A handcart carrying Norton's charred corpse was pushed along the muddy streets toward the city gates.
Houses stood in a jumbled arrangement along the streets. A few were extravagantly adorned with carved beams and painted rafters, while most were so dilapidated they were painful to look at. Collapsed roofs were a normal sight here.
Yet no matter how luxurious or dilapidated, every household grew beautiful flowers.
Ever since the Holy Lord Cathedral had ordered the people to dig up their farmland and plant flowers instead, the city really did look rather beautiful, brimming with the colors of spring.
But the corpses that appeared in the streets and alleys from time to time, along with the excrement on the roads, greatly spoiled the sight.
Still, it didn't matter. All the corpses could be picked clean by people before being hauled to the mass grave west of the city, and the charred Norton would be thrown there too.
The smell of burnt, roasted meat drew the attention of the poor in the streets.
Norton had been roasted until he resembled a lump of charcoal, and not even wild dogs would eat him. Yet the poor watched him with green-eyed hunger, trailing behind the church knights.
Strictly speaking, the mass grave west of the city was more of a rubbish dump. All the city's rubbish and corpses were thrown there.
This was a medieval European fantasy world. Although the discarded rubbish and corpses didn't produce things like ghouls or goblins, there were plenty of mutated wild dogs and rats, and vampires might very well be hiding among them.
The handcart was taken to the mass grave west of the city. As soon as they approached it, the church knights stopped and tipped the charcoal-like Norton off the cart.
"Smack!"
With a sound like a lump of charcoal hitting the ground, the useless Norton was casually dumped at the very edge of the mass grave.
"You handle the dismemberment. I'll turn the cart around."
The two church knights responsible for transporting Norton's corpse glanced at each other, and one of them seemed to have a slightly odd expression.
It wasn't an expression of embarrassment. Rather, a hint of hesitation seemed to show on his face.
It was rare indeed for a church knight, a cold human machine raised under the church's strict indoctrination, to show such a human expression.
And it was precisely because they had been indoctrinated from childhood that they were utterly incapable of concealing their inner emotions, which involuntarily surfaced on their faces.
Hearing his companion's words, the other church knight, who had remained expressionless from beginning to end, nodded expressionlessly. He took the greatsword from his back, aimed it at the charcoal-like Norton on the ground, and raised it high.
"Pfft!"
A wooden stick with a sharpened tip was thrust viciously through the slit in the front of his pure white steel helmet.
Blood spurted out almost immediately, accompanied by a howl.
Although the church knight who had just raised his greatsword to chop Norton had been wounded without warning, he retained the excellent combat instincts drilled into him.
He lunged forward almost immediately, crushing one of Norton's feet underfoot and freeing himself from the stick that had pierced his eye.
"Traitor! Heretic!"
The excruciating pain and blindness had no effect on the ironlike church knight. He let out just one scream before stopping himself, then bellowed angrily as he looked behind him and raised his greatsword high.
Blood spurted from his eye socket, staining the inside of his helmet red and even flowing out of it.
The church knight behind him, who had thrust the stick into his companion's eye socket, had of course undergone the same training. Even though Norton's punch had given him some thoughts of his own, he still retained machinelike precision and resolve.
The stick had failed to kill his companion, so he immediately raised his greatsword high and slashed down viciously at him.
"Clang!"
The two enormous steel swords collided with a piercing sound. The two church knights should normally have been evenly matched, but now the one who had launched the sneak attack was actually weaker than the one he had attacked.
Although one of his eyes had been stabbed blind and his eye socket was in excruciating pain, the church knight's faith and spirit had almost reached their peak at the sight of a heretic.
"Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!"
He roared as he swung his greatsword, hacking at his companion again and again as though he had abandoned all defense.
Although the Holy Lord Church had quite a way of treating people, the quality of its steel armor really was exceptional.
The two church knights traded basic attacks. Their armor was dented by the force of the greatswords, but its defense still held. They hacked back and forth, inflicting only some internal injuries, unable to sever any limbs at all.
The knight brainwashed by faith grew increasingly frenzied, but blood loss and blurred vision eventually began to put him at a disadvantage.
When the greatsword, its edge already rolled from the fighting, was swung viciously into his forehead, his dazed head could no longer withstand the tremendous impact. His entire body stiffened slightly with the blow, and then he fell backward onto his back.
"Thud!"
The knight, whose armor weighed at least twenty or thirty kilograms, fell with a resounding crash, snapping Norton's charred left lower leg beneath him. Then he lay still.
Only the knight who had betrayed the church remained standing, swaying on the spot. Even through his steel armor, the force of the greatsword blows had left him in considerable pain. He could no longer lift one arm, and the bone had very likely been broken by the earlier strikes.
Even so, the church knight, who had undergone inhuman training, still made no sound. He merely turned and glanced behind him.
The poor who had been trailing the church knights from a distance had all scattered.
Heretics were far more hateful than heathens. Just as Norton's existence had made it necessary to purge the missionaries and clergy of his cohort, the poor who had witnessed the emergence of a heretic would also be subjected to a direct, bloody purge if they didn't run.
Faith had not given these poor people a good life, but it had at least given them taboos of thought.
So the moment they saw a heretic appear, no one held any lingering attachment to the charcoal-like Norton on the ground. None dared say much, and they immediately fled in all directions.
Report it to the church? Don't be ridiculous. If you reported seeing a heretic, you would be beheaded the next moment for having your thoughts contaminated.
Why didn't you attack when there was a heretic?
Even so, once word of this reached the church, the city's poor would still face a sweeping investigation and purge that could only be described as hellish.
All so that everyone would know: the church must not be defied!
"Whew!" The church knight who had cut down his companion had no time to spare him another glance, nor did he think to finish him off. After catching his breath, he carried his greatsword in his right hand and hurried deeper into the mass grave.
He had to run!