Bare flesh of mortals framed on the wall. Skin peeled off from their bodies. Some didn’t have their arms. River of blood flooded down the hall. Small skulls decorated the massive stone door ahead of them.

I want to go home.

Where are my arms?

Mother, why can’t I feel anything?

Heaven have abandon us here.

Their last prayers reached out to Luther. Hands clasped as they kneeled beneath him. They clung to him, pulling him down to listen to their unheard voices. They chanted out. Take our prayers home.

Luther placed his hand on a child beside him. His gaze softened. Be at peace. I will deliver your prayers to the heaven. The bell rang a lullaby, lulling their souls into a slumber as the blue light wrapped their bare flesh in a warm blanket.

Meanwhile, the knights ended the remaining sinners. Hartwin pierced his blade deep into the sinner’s chest. “Scums like you should never exist!”

It coughed out a laugh. “They should be glad they served their purpose for our lord.”

Hartwin shouted. The light on his blade burned its tainted soul. A young knight fell down and vomited. Tears stained his pale face. He held it this long before reaching his limit. Vincent brushed the back of the knight. Others wore different mask over their faces; disgust, anger, sadness, fear.

Luther turned to his men. The burden of the voice was his. As much as he appreciated their loyalty and trust in their mute captain, he wouldn’t want to see them wasting their life for him. Besides, he doesn’t know what devil was waiting behind that skull stone door. Unlike his brothers of light, strength and justice, he doesn’t carry much specialty in combat. He could get these promising knights to death rather than protecting them from harm.

He looked at each of their pale faces, motioning his hands to tell them. I won't order you to follow me. You may turn away now and nobody can judge your choice. Their masks quickly turned into shock and confusion. Luther hit his heart three times and gave a low nod. Thank you for accompanying me this far.

They glanced at one another. Fists clenched on their sides. Eyes kept glancing back to the deceased and the exit. The first one to respond was his partner—Vincent. He kneeled in front of Luther. “I wish to see the end of this will.“

Later, Hartwin did the same thing beside Vincent. “How can I possibly leave after witnessing this horror? You heard their voices for help. As your knight, I made my vow and seal my fate to die for the will of heaven and yours. It doesn’t matter where, when, or how I die, but I will die for my vow.“

“We won’t let such demon turned us into cowards,” Vincent added.

One by one. The knights stepped forward before him. A sight Luther remembered seeing the first time they met. On their first meeting, they made their vows in front of him under the gaze of heaven. Luther hated the idea of sacrificing their own for him. He was unworthy. They could have found a better luminary to serve, yet they choose him. They were rough diamonds. Luther couldn’t ask for better comrades than them.

The bell sung a melody of praises for their devotion. White valley emblem bloomed blue light on their blades. Luther approached the door. They followed him from behind.

Before reaching the door, it creaked open. Debris and dust scattered down, covering their visions. Swords drew ready in their hands. Vincent and Hartwin stepped forward on Luther’s side. They swung their swords, releasing a strong gust of wind, slicing the fog away. Once it dispersed, a throne hall revealed to them. In the middle, an enormous stone hung above with the support of fossilized shackles from every corner of the hall. It looked ready to crumble into dust as cracks were visible around its form. Beneath the stone was a ring stage with a throne chair of skulls. A sinner sat on the throne. Six arms on its sides rested on the skulls. Curtain of feathers sealed its eyes. Its body held several textures of skin and tones from wrinkled golden brown to soft peach.

The sinner raised from its throne. Limbs on its sides spread out. “I welcomed thou, slave of light. Arthres, the First Son of Pride.”

“Heir of Sin!” The knights held their swords against the enemy. Luther raised a hand to stop them.

Arthres beckoned him. “That light. What a pleasant guest. It’s been a while since I last seen a luminary.”

Luther drew his sword out on his left while the bell was on the right. He stepped forward.

“Captain, that’s an heir. It’s too dangerous for you to fight it by yourselves. He’s not like any lesser sinner,” Vincent warned.

Heir of sin, a creation born from the will of the seven sinners. There were many of them, but his predecessor slew many. Rag’thoran was one of them, an heir of wrath. Arthres. Luther heard his name. Something wasn’t right. Records from the Lumina Cathedral stated Arthres had a child-like form, not an adult.

The wings on Arthres’s face opened, revealing a pair of ruby eyes. It eyed on his pendant. “Marvelous, you too inherited the stubbornness of your ancestors. Now tell me which luminary are you? I never seen that puny flower before.” His gaze traveled from the pendant to Luther. Eyes widened in shock. “Your mouth is seal. Perhaps a decoy to hide your true luminary.“

“How dare you mock him!“ Vincent said.

Luther raised the bell.

“A bell?”

Send my prayer to my foe.

The bell rang, a high pitch sound echoing through the stone hall. Blue light slashed towards every direction of Arthres. He leaped away before it touched him. But Luther didn’t stop there. He kept ringing the bell, sending the heaven’s judgment over his enemy.

“I invited you for a tea and you came with malice.“ Arms sprouted from his back like a pair of wing. Wrists twisted in an abnormally with scratches and bites marks of beast. Bones poked out from its skin. Limbs formed a shield around him, blocking the judgment from reaching him. Light scratched the skin and flesh, only to recover itself in seconds. Arthres laughed. “Impossible. You will never touch me.”

Luther stopped. He raised the bell and swung at the heir. There was nothing but silence. Arthres tipped his head. “Tired already.“

“Those don’t belong to you.” Luther’s voice reached Arthres.

Blood flowed out from Arthres’s ears. He touched the blood. “Was that your voice?”

The bell connected to the ears of his target. It would take quite a toll on his body using this ability. Luther didn’t wish to do it, but he wanted to deliver his own words to the sinner.

“Sinner, you took what’s not yours.” Luther pointed his sword at Arthres. He studied each of the limbs on the sinner’s wing. Some fingers wore jewel bands. The textures differ from a rough male hand to a silky smooth of a female.

“Me? A thief? The mortals pledged their own souls for me. A lord they sought and loved. I offered them an immortality for their arms.” Arthres gloated.

“I heard about you.” Luther glowered. “You are not the first son of pride. Arthres, the Imperfect Son.”

The proud smile on the sinner twitched. “You talk a lot for a mute.”

“And you are a delusional sinner who claimed himself as the heir of pride.”

Arthres roared and took a leap towards him. His arms reached out to Luther’s neck. A loud bell blasted on its side, throwing Arthres across the hall. The arms on his side limped down. The impact broke the bones. He held a nearby rubble for a support to raise his weight.

“Unlike Rag’thoran, who had a name that was known for thousands of years, you are nothing more than a new seedling. Kidnapping these people and hide away from the watchful eyes of the sky to commit such sin. An imperfect son born without a wing. You take away parts of their vessels just so you can become the perfect son that you desired so much.”

Veins emerged from its ruby eyes. “I’ll have you begged on your knees!”

Chains of chimes filled the hall. Lights illuminated the darkness. “Not until you repent first.”