Maddened screams echo from a neighboring cell.
The mana stirs in the air as the life energy from the prisoner shivers with pain.
Seconds drag themselves away till silence takes over the dungeon once more.
The fifth purification had come to an end.
This was the third light snuffed out before Valthar's senses.
"Another corrupted soul has been judged by the Burning Light!" A fervorous announcement booms through the dungeon.
Valthat feels his heart squeeze as it invades his ears.
The other priests repeat the fervorous declaration.
Thuds reverberate, as step by step the group closes in to the next cell.
Valthar's cell.
The door opens with little sound and air freezes on Valthar's lungs.
The lead priest walks in.
Light red robe with white flame motifs.
In his right hand a gauntlet made of blood red bones pulses with magic.
"Please let me go… I don't want to die." Valthar pleads to the lead priest.
A pitiful attempt Valthar thought himself above mear hours ago.
Yet as he heard the screams from those before…
As he felt some of their lives fade into nothingness…
His pride crumbled.
The lead stares back with eyes full of mercy.
"Let go of your crooked paths and the light shall birth you anew." His gauntleted hand approaches Valthar's forehead.
"Don't resist its fiery cleansing or only ashes will be left from your tainted existence."
The gauntlet pressed against Valthar's skin, already hot enough to cause pain.
The lead's fingers curl into the banished mage's hair, locking Valthar's head in place.
"Please…" The mage's voice shakes.
As if his blood was swapped with molten lava a scorching pain floods Valthar.
From the top of his head it flows downwards.
Through his neck, into his chest and then spreads to every muscle and bone on his body.
A ghostly white glow shines over his body.
A scream reaches Valthar ears, like a pig being butchered alive, broken and visceral.
This scream is his, born from the pain that refuses to pass.
Cold sweat drips down his back, the life energy ring pulses inside his chest.
Life energy flows through his veins after the white fire, it tries to fix wherever it passes and it fails.
Seconds stretch into years, his mana sense already small dims into pure mana blindness.
In his chest the banishment mark dissolves into nothingness.
From his pores blood slowly dripped out.
Each drop charged to the brim with the mana purged from his body as his mana veins melted off his body.
Then a tiny black cloud rises from the top of his head, this was demonic energy.
However it was so small in quantity it basically confirmed Valthar had not been directly affected by any demon.
However no one in the room cared much about this result, just another casualty in the endless fight against demons.
Valthar's vision shuts down, his breathing staggers; smell, taste and touch short circuit.
His mind corners itself into the only sense that remains, his life energy sense.
The normal pain wanes as a numb metaphysical sense of loss settles in.
Finally the lead priest pulls his hand back.
With a quick check he confirms Valthar is alive.
"One more soul has been cleaned by the Burning Light! May no demon taint his spirit ever again!"
And with that the lead priest walks out.
Behind his steps bloody footprints remain as he slowly goes to the next cell.
Most of the normal priests follow behind, but a few kneel closer as they take Valthar's chains off.
From here they'll heal Valthar just enough to ensure survival before sending him out to the streets.
*
Valthar's legs shook as he trudged his way into the Warmheart Inn, the Inn he and the caravan had stayed in.
After a week-long coma he had awoken less than an hour ago and the priests immediately sent him out.
On the bright side, they at least gave him a decent fasting potion and a simple brown robe.
A replacement for his clothes that had been discarded as things 'tainted by demonic corruption'.
For a moment Valthar had hesitated in coming here to collect Lionel's reward.
But after an hour in the streets he came around and accepted his other options were just horrible.
He had no money, knew nobody and was completely new to the city.
That and the fact the caravan should already have moved on in their journey was enough to convince him to put his pride aside.
In the first place Valthar truly had been a great help on the night of the ambush, so there was no need for shame in receiving a reward.
With this in mind he limped his way to the reception.
Behind the desk sat a boy that looked around twelve or thirteen years old.
"Good morning, I'm Valthar and…" he hesitated for a moment on what to call Lionel. "An acquaintance of mine left a reward for me with the owner of this Inn, could you please call the owner for me?" Valthar asked politely.
The kid looked up from the book in which he was drawing.
Those innocent eyes scanned Valthar from top to bottom.
"You mean Grandpa Marcos?" the boy asked with a raised eyebrow.
Valthar paused trying to remember the Inn's owner's name, but couldn't.
"Does Marcos own this Inn?" He asked and the boy nodded. "Then it must be Marcos I'm after."
With that the kid scurried away into a back door.
"Grandpa! That guy the guards took is looking for ya!"
Before the kid came back Valthar felt his vision swim.
With shaky motions he trembled his way into a chair.
In a moment he felt acid crawl up his throat before he forced his mouth shut.
With closed eyes he breathed deeply through his nose, slowly recovering himself.
However before he could, the kid had already come back and with him the owner.
In contrast to his white hair and slightly wrinkled eyes, his muscles were large and his steps were full of vigor.
He looked forty at most, which could mean anywhere between forty and two hundred since aging varied greatly thanks to the effects of mana.
"Are you okay brother?" The kid asked with worry.
"It's just mana poisoning Little Jack, go grab a cut of roasted boar and some water for the young man." Old Marcos said to his grandson.