The Unveiling of Forbidden Love

The corpulent bishop pointed a finger at Asta.

“As for your own transgressions, Witch, you have practiced sorcery, bewitched minds, and committed shameful acts of forbidden depravity. You have angered the gods, bringing plague and famine upon this land. You are the harbinger of evil and the source of misfortune for Redfang Fortress. Your sins are unforgivable, and no further trial is needed!”

“Today, we shall question your relationship with her, this woman named Leona! You must answer truthfully. Perhaps then the gods might yet show you some mercy. While your descent into hell is certain, it might at least spare you the most brutal depths of purgatory!”

The goat-bearded noble also spoke, his voice sharp.

“Speak! What is your relationship with Leona, the probationary swordswoman under my command?”

According to Rodis’s intelligence, the goat-bearded man was none other than Viscount Lombego, the lord of Redfang Fortress. However, the unsettlingly large man behind him remained a mystery, even to Rodis, who had no information on him.

“Speak quickly!” the masked brute, who held Asta kneeling on the ground, cursed in a local dialect.

Asta’s expression remained indifferent. She gazed at Leona, a subtle flicker of deep affection in her eyes, and then spoke.

“She is Leona, a swordswoman of Redfang Fortress. I met her a few times during my stay here, nothing more. As for anything else, I am unaware.”

The bishop sneered, a cold smile gracing his lips.

“Asta, you cunning witch, are you still lying at a time like this? If you had only met a few times, why would she risk her life to save you? This defies all reason! Speak, is she your lover?”

“No.”

“Then what exactly is your relationship with her?”

“There is no relationship.”

“Nonsense! Then who is your lover?”

“I will not say. My death is already certain; why should I reveal my lover’s name?” Asta had accepted her fate, finding a strange sense of release in it.

“Asta…” Leona bit her lip, watching Asta with profound sorrow. Yet, in her weakened state, she too was restrained by two burly men, utterly incapable of resistance.

“You wretch! Confess honestly, or you’ll suffer!” The mustachioed armored warrior stepped forward and delivered a forceful punch to Asta.

Asta staggered, nearly collapsing, but the masked brute held her upright. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth as she raised her head.

“I am soon to be executed. If you wish for my death to be swift, then strike harder.”

Asta’s delicate face was marred by bruises, its former beauty gone, yet it was filled with utter contempt for these oppressive forces and the fierce pride of protecting her beloved.

The seasoned warrior, meeting Asta’s resolute gaze, involuntarily flinched. He knew that no method, no torture, would ever break Asta’s will.

He glanced at the noble with a helpless shrug, shaking his head.

Viscount Lombego spread his hands in resignation. “Since that is the case, the evidence to convict Leona of forbidden depravity is insufficient. Take her back to Redfang Fortress for now; her trial for attacking the witch’s guards will be held on another day. Bishop, proceed with the pronouncement.”

The bishop stepped forward, offering a solemn prayer, as if to justify his cruel actions.

“I pronounce—Asta, guilty of the sin of lewd depravity, to be punished by stoning! Guilty of the sin of witchcraft, to be punished by immolation! Both crimes shall be punished concurrently: first, she shall be killed by stoning, then her body shall be burned by fire. The execution shall commence immediately! Witch Asta, do you have any final words?”

Asta remained silent.

“Witch Asta, at this final moment, are you willing to repent to the gods and beg for forgiveness?”

Asta’s tragically beautiful face tilted towards the sky, a mocking smile playing on her lips. She turned her head with unwavering resolve to face the bishop and the noble.

“I am innocent. What is there to repent?”

The bishop let out an indignant snort and waved his hand.

“Execute her!”

The burly men pulled Asta to her feet and produced a black mask, placing it over her face. In the final instant before the mask fully obscured her, Asta looked at Leona, who was on the verge of collapse, her teeth clenched, tears streaming down her face. Asta shook her head, then nodded and smiled faintly.

The black mask was secured, and she was pushed into the open sandy area. Around her, a large crowd of adult male villagers had gathered, their hands clutching various sized stones. Many more stones lay scattered on the ground.

Faein, watching from behind the crowd, began to breathe heavily. I gripped her hand firmly.

“Senior sister, wait a little longer.”

“Whoosh!” A stone flew, striking the masked Asta. Unable to dodge, she was hit in the head. Her body swayed, but she managed to remain standing, not uttering a sound.

Shockingly, the one who threw it was an old man she had cured of the plague just months ago.

“Wait!” Leona, who was about to be led away by the strongmen, suddenly stopped.

Viscount Lombego waved his hand, signaling the villagers to pause.

“Sister, I truly cannot leave you alone,” Leona declared, her gaze fixed on Asta, whose mask was now stained with blood, her voice filled with both deep affection and resolute determination.

“Silence, Leona! What did you just say? What did you call the witch Asta?” the bishop demanded.

“I called her Sister.”

“Is she related to you by blood? Which side of your family is she related to? Explain yourself!”

“No, she and I have no blood relation,” Asta stated calmly, yet with a hint of sorrow.

The entire crowd erupted in an uproar.

“Leona! Then why do you call her Sister?”

“Ugh, no—don’t—” Asta, her face masked, could not scream, but she shook her head violently, groaning.

Leona looked at Asta with heartache, sorrow, and deep affection. She then turned to face the crowd.

“Because… Sister Asta and I are lovers.”

“What!?” Instantly, the crowd erupted into a tumultuous clamor of condemnation, shouts, curses, and jeers!