Chapter 44: Mister Twardowski

  When Justinian began the process of entering the Foundation Stabilization level, two enormous tornadoes were already raging on the moon, which the inhabitants of the dimension below observed with horror, but also with fascination. They belonged to Felix and Septima, respectively.

  Felix’s tornado, after eliminating the legendary serpent, was absolutely unprecedented in this hellish dimension. The sheer size of its surface area far exceeded all records, and everyone who now saw it in the night sky knew they were witnessing something that would go down in history.

  “Do you see the ash circulating in his tornado?!”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It looks like it’s turning reality into ruins!”

  The devils commented, excited by the spectacle.

  In these conditions, Septima’s tornado also appeared, taking up the fight against Felix’s element that was dominating the sky. Her tornado, however, was completely different. While the first presented a reality of ruin plunged in sorrow, hers… was a swelling darkness!

  “Do you see how it’s spreading?!”

  “It looks terrifying…”

  “What if they collide?”

  It soon became clear that Septima’s darkness would not be satisfied until it dominated the entire sky. Felix’s ruin fought against it, but it was surrounded and could not expand beyond its current volume.

  The rest of the sky was dominated by the blackness originating from the foundation of the adept of Maleficius.

  Thus, they both began to compete for who would first obtain the final approval of the spirit of the dimension, Twardowski. This was also the moment when a third tornado slowly began stirring on the moon. It was much smaller and weaker than the other two—nor did it have the visual effects—but its owner’s determination was definitely not inferior to the top adepts’.

  This tornado symbolized Justinian’s attempt to enter the Foundation Stabilization level, while he was living his greatest nightmare.

  Eighteen-year-old “Justin,” a few days before his nineteenth birthday, watched with tears in his eyes as the caregiver sister left the orphanage.

  A moment ago, he had caused a great catastrophe and humiliated the procession passing by the cathedral before the devil’s bloodletting ceremony. It was not his intention, but cruel fate played with him so.

  He looked toward the room where his adopted brother was sleeping and sighed, then set off to take care of him. In his head, however, a terrible scene was playing out.

  'No! Stop her! Don’t let her go there, damn it!'—all the thoughts swirling in the boy screamed.

  Unfortunately, they had no effect on reality. They were the expression of an external observer that could not reach the eighteen-year-old Justinian. Just like in a nightmare, when danger becomes visible, but the sleeper discovers that he cannot scream—for he has no mouth to make a sound.

  'You must do something! It’s all a trap!'

  His desperation meant as much as a stone thrown into water. History simply continued on its once-set rhythm.

  Soon it grew dark outside, and crowds of the faithful began to head toward the cathedral. The Eternally Beautiful Queen was to participate in the holy ceremony before descending with her guard to the tomb where the devil was kept. Letting his blood was supposed to maintain peace in the world.

  Justinian cared nothing for this at the moment. The only thing on his mind was to somehow break free from this terrible captivity and prevent the tragedy that was to define his life once and for all.

  His silent scream was marked by growing madness as events followed one another exactly as they had once happened in the past.

  First the explosion of the cathedral. Then panic among the people. Finally, the desperate search for the caregiver sister and her meaningless death against the backdrop of the burning building.

  The screaming spirit did not even notice when a fire broke out in the city, which soon also consumed the orphanage and the residential district. He barely had time to realize what was going on as his adopted brother burned in the building before his very eyes.

  Only then did the image change to the tunnels of the devil’s tomb, where, together with the noble Mr. Rafalski, he was to serve mysterious cultists as a trap tester.

  'Why are you showing me this?!'—the observer screamed desperately with no sound. Still, it had no effect on reality, and the spirit had to watch the events again.

  First, the death of Mayor Rafalski—a man who was guilty of nothing but his naivety—Justinian was now mature enough to guess why the smiling army was not there to help.

  Then—the cynical use of the boy as a trap disarmer, and finally the conversation with the devil. Only now did the spirit realize how panicked Ignatius was when he offered him an alleged pact in exchange for release. Only now did he perceive that there was no pact, but a simple lie from someone who feared for his very life.

  History still followed its rhythm. Soon they landed in the hellish dimension, Ignatius disappeared, and Justinian looked around the place that for the next year became his home.

  He met Franciscus and eventually became an adept on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune.

  In silence, he watched as the devils made a spectacle of his desperate fight to convince the cultivation stone—the fight to gain the power needed for revenge and justice.

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  When the young man, exhausted from a four-day fight, fainted a moment after the tiny rock bonded with him, a low, authoritative voice resounded in the spirit’s consciousness.

  “So this is how you ended up here. A magnificent story and potential.”

  The spirit did not know it, but the moment these words sounded, a third tornado started swirling sharply on the surface of the moon!

  The crowd of watching devils looked with a bit of admiration at the newly formed third tornado. Although it was smaller than the rest and did not bring changes to the sky of the dimension, it still showed that the enemy of the masses—the infamous Grim Judge—had some talent to back up his reputation.

  Of the mountain lords, Maleficius shrugged. For him, only Septima mattered, and the tornado itself could not compare in size or quality to the one she had created.

  Eusebius raised an eyebrow slightly, seeing what Justinian had done. He did not expect the young man to reach such a level and even gain Twardowski’s preliminary approval.

  Old Boruta, sitting nearby and coughing, had mixed feelings. On the one hand, he had nothing against this kid who gave him a few days off with his judicial ideas. On the other hand, his pride was a little hurt that the top three in the ritual did not consist exclusively of devils.

  “What rotten times…” he muttered under his breath.

  Justinian, after hearing the authoritative voice, opened his eyes. He was near the orphanage, though this time it was not the day of the cultists’ attack.

  The drama that played out before him was one of his most fond memories of Sister Teresa.

  A cruel chaos reigned in the city—various kinds of cattle and swine ran joyfully in the streets, creating chaos in all possible directions. Old women, seeing this, fled in panic, often leaving their shopping bags in the middle of the street, which only increased the general mess.

  Some of the men tried to control the disaster by chasing after the cattle, but with little success. A lot of people were just watching, but there was also a third group.

  “You won’t escape us this time, you damn demon!”

  “Do you know the damage you’ve caused to Mr. Bucefalus?!”

  “You’ll be paying off these debts for the rest of your life!”

  They shouted at a bound, small boy, whom they proudly led toward the orphanage. For some reason, this was their solution to the prevailing chaos, and they believed that they would solve the problem by taking him there.

  The boy himself had tears in his eyes and was clearly terrified of everything that was happening around him. Unfortunately, this did not affect the attitude of these people at all.

  When they arrived, they began to beat on the door of the barely standing building like a battering ram, calling for its mistress.

  Soon, a sleepy Sister Teresa opened it for them, and seeing the whole company and the chaos in the street, her eyes widened.

  “What is going—” Before the surprised woman could ask, the crowd interrupted her.

  “We came here for justice!”

  “The demon destroyed Mr. Bucefalus’s farm!”

  “He must pay for the damages and work off the debt he created!” A cacophony of shouts from the angry people immediately arose.

  It seemed that the louder they were, the more terrified the little boy they had brought with them became, and he withdrew into himself.

  Teresa was an ordinary woman; she had never dealt with angry mobs before, and she herself felt a little scared. Seeing her charge in such a terrible situation, however, something did not allow her to take a step back and retreat from the angry people.

  Despite the fear in her eye, she shouted loudly:

  “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

  Of course, her scream had no effect on the crowd standing before her.

  “This little brat let all the animals out of the facilities! Now they are creating chaos and huge damage in the city! Either he will work off all this damage, or the orphanage will pay for everything!” answered the man holding Justinian.

  He was one of Mr. Bucefalus’s employees who should have been looking after the cattle when the disaster occurred.

  Hearing this, Teresa turned pale. According to the current laws prevailing within the empire of benevolence, such behavior could be considered sabotage of the economic order and an attempt to cause a famine.

  The convicted then had a choice of several decades of work in hard labor camps or direct, practically slave labor for the victim himself.

  The woman was in absolute shock and did not know what to do.

  'What can I possibly do in such a ridiculous situation?!'

  The child they had brought—none other than the young Justinian—was crying quietly.

  “I… I… just wanted to help…”

  Unfortunately, the angry crowd did not care, and they quickly drowned him out. The rest of his words were not even audible.

  “Either the orphanage finds the money to cover the damages, or we’re taking him to court—choose, Teresa!” shouted the man from before.

  This time the woman took a step back. She simply did not have that kind of money. Even if she sold this crumbling social building, she probably wouldn’t even come close to the necessary sums.

  There was no way she could do anything here. She didn’t even know what to say. Then she looked at the crying Justinian, whom no one was listening to.

  'This poor child, upon whom only misfortunes fall…'

  Her charge had been able to cause trouble before, but it always resulted from some absurd situations and never required huge costs. Now, however, the situation was deadly serious.

  Justinian seemed to be saying something, but his words were drowned out by the angry crowd, who realized she didn’t have the money.

  “In that case, we’re going to the ju—” began the man from before. He did not manage to finish.

  “Shut up!” Teresa roared at him, her eyes full of anger, outraged at the injustice that was befalling the child. “Let the boy give his version!”

  The crowd, of course, was not too happy with this demand—especially since they had already established the guilty party and were not interested in further investigation. However, seeing that the woman would not let the matter go, they let the kid go and allowed him to speak. Teresa smiled at him, feigning confidence.

  “I… I just wanted to dress the leg of an injured little cow… a nail got stuck in it and it was limping… I didn’t know that all the animals would run away…”

  It became clear that he was indeed the culprit. Regardless of his intentions, he really had caused all the animals to escape. The crowd didn’t want to waste any more time, but the caregiver sister looked at this poor child and felt that she could not let him be harmed, regardless of the cost.

  “The kid himself admi—”

  “Did I hear correctly?”

  The people frowned. What was this woman on about again?

  “You really had an injured animal and this child had to take care of it for you?” she asked in a serious tone.

  “So what if—” replied the man, after which an idea crossed his mind.

  “If the Eternally Beautiful Queen finds out how you treat the animals she has taken under her care, she will sentence all of you to the labor camps,” she bluffed.

  The Queen’s love for animals was well known, but of course, such a ridiculous case had never occurred. What’s more, there was a high risk that by reporting something so uncertain, Teresa herself would incur the monarch’s wrath.

  Her eyes, however, said that for the good of this child, she was willing to risk it.

  The spirit of Justinian, observing all these events from afar, sighed with emotion. Soon the image blurred and other memories were replayed.

  In one, Teresa was taking care of Zonik—Justinian’s brother, whom the whole world had written off.

  In another, she was helping Justinian, and in yet another, ordinary people.

  The final memory was of her dying in a pool of blood as the cathedral burned in the background.

  “She did not deserve such a fate,” the low voice that Justinian had heard before resounded. “The world will not be just until I have my revenge.”

  The boy looked behind him in surprise.

  'That’s…'

  There he saw a seated man, dressed in typical noble robes and with a noble hairstyle.

  In his hand, he held nothing other than Justinian’s Ledger of Wrongs and Redresses, from which he had just quoted the first conclusion. The man looked the boy in the eye and smiled. And behind his back, a two-meter-tall rooster raised its head, listening to the conversation with curiosity!