The plaza was completely full now.
Hundreds of people stood beneath the gray sky in heavy silence, their bodies wrapped in thick fur coats and layered winter clothing stitched together from old fabrics and animal hides.
Their breaths drifted into the air as pale white mist.
Nobody moved unnecessarily.
Nobody spoke loudly.
Even the wind seemed quieter now, as though the entire settlement had frozen around a single moment.
And at the very center of it all— was Shuan.
Kneeling in the snow.
Crying.
His shoulders shook uncontrollably as tears continued falling down his pale face without stopping.
The freezing air turned the moisture cold almost instantly, leaving faint wet trails across his skin.
The metal restraint around his neck prevented him from lifting his head properly.
Every small movement caused the chain to tighten slightly against his throat.
His breathing came unevenly.
Painfully.
Like someone trying not to drown.
“Please…” he whispered weakly.
The word barely escaped him.
His voice trembled so badly that it almost disappeared beneath the cold wind.
“I don’t understand…” His fingers pressed helplessly into the snow beneath him.
“What did I do…?” No answer came.
Not from the soldiers.
Not from the crowd.
Not from anyone.
Only silence.
Heavy.
Merciless silence.
Shuan slowly looked upward through blurred vision.
Faces surrounded him from every direction.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Some filled with fear.
Some with suspicion.
Others completely empty.
A little girl near the edge of the plaza stared at him for several seconds before her mother quickly pulled her behind her coat.
An old man lowered his gaze entirely.
A few whispered quietly to one another.
But no one stepped forward.
No one defended him.
The realization hurt more than the cold.
For the first time since arriving at the settlement, Shuan truly understood something: He was alone here.
Completely alone.
Then movement appeared near the front of the plaza.
Hol stepped forward slowly.
The crowd instinctively made space for him.
Snow crunched beneath the old man’s boots as he walked toward the center with measured steps, his long staff pressing firmly against the frozen ground.
His face remained calm.
Too calm.
Shuan looked at him desperately for a moment.
As though hoping— still hoping— that the old man would finally explain everything.
That he would stop this.
But Hol’s expression never changed.
Then the old man raised one hand.
Immediately— the soldiers moved.
Dozens of armed men stepped forward from every side of the plaza in perfect coordination.
The sound of boots crushing snow echoed heavily through the silence.
Some carried long frost-modified rifles with glowing blue mechanisms attached near the barrels.
Others held long blades designed for frozen combat, their edges pale beneath the gray light.
They advanced slowly.
Methodically.
Like men preparing for something already decided long ago.
Shuan’s breathing became faster.
His eyes widened as the soldiers formed a half-circle around him.
The sound of weapons being readied shattered the silence of the plaza.
Metal clicked.
Bolts locked.
Safety mechanisms disengaged.
One by one.
The rifles slowly rose.
Pointing directly at him.
Shuan froze.
For one brief second, he could not even breathe.
Then panic crashed into him all at once.
“No…” His voice broke instantly.
He instinctively tried pulling himself backward across the snow, his knees dragging desperately against the frozen ground.
But the chain around his neck tightened violently.
The restraint jerked him back.
Pain shot through his throat.
“No… no…” His crying became harder now.
Messier.
His body trembled uncontrollably while tears continued falling onto the snow beneath him.
The crowd remained silent.
Watching.
Only watching.
And standing above him— surrounded by weapons and fear— Shuan suddenly looked less like a monster… and more like a terrified boy moments away from execution.