The cart carrying Norton's charred corpse was pushed along the muddy street toward the city outskirts.
The houses along the street were haphazardly arranged, a small portion featuring carved beams and painted rafters in extravagant luxury, while most were so dilapidated they were painful to look at - collapsed roofs were considered normal here.
Yet no matter how luxurious or how destitute, every household cultivated beautiful flowers.
Since the Holy Lord Cathedral demanded that citizens clear their farmlands to plant flowers, the entire city had indeed taken on a somewhat spring-like beauty.
However, the occasional corpses appearing in alleys and the feces on the streets greatly undermined this aesthetic.
But it didn't matter - all corpses could be picked clean by people then hauled to the mass burial ground in the western city, and the charred Norton would be dumped there too.
The aroma of roasted meat attracted the attention of the poor on the streets.
Norton, burned to a crisp like charcoal, wasn't even fit for wild dogs, but the poor watched with green-eyed hunger, trailing behind the Church Knights like shadows.
The western mass burial ground was essentially a garbage dump - all the city's trash and corpses ended up here.
This was a medieval fantasy world, and while discarded garbage and corpses didn't spawn ghouls or goblins, there were plenty of mutated wild dogs and rats, and vampires likely hid among them too.The cart reached the western mass burial ground, and as soon as they approached the area, the Church Knights stopped, then dumped the charred Norton from the cart.
"Thud!"
With a sound like charcoal hitting ground, the worthless Norton was casually tossed to the outermost edge of the burial ground.
"You handle the dismemberment. I'll turn the cart around."
The two Church Knights responsible for transporting Norton's body exchanged glances, one of them showing a slightly unusual expression.
This wasn't embarrassment, but rather hesitation visibly displayed on his face.
Remarkably, these Church Knights - cold human machines rigorously brainwashed by the Church - actually showed such human expression.
Their lifelong brainwashing education made it impossible to conceal emotional fluctuations, which inevitably surfaced on their faces.
Hearing his companion's words, the other knight who had remained expressionless the whole time nodded blankly, then drew the greatsword from his back, raised it high above the charcoal-like Norton on the ground.
"Thrust!"
A sharply pointed wooden stick brutally stabbed through the gap in the pure white steel helmet.
Blood immediately gushed out, accompanied by a miserable cry.
Though suddenly wounded, the Church Knight who had just raised his greatsword to chop Norton maintained his well-trained combat instincts.
He immediately lunged forward, crushing one of Norton's feet under his boot while simultaneously freeing himself from the stick that had pierced his eye.
"Traitor! Heretic!"
The excruciating pain and blindness didn't affect the iron-willed Church Knight at all. He barely cried out before suppressing his screams, instead roaring angrily as he looked behind him, his greatsword rising high again.
Blood spurted from his eye socket, dyeing the inside of his helmet crimson, even flowing out from the seams.
The Church Knight who had stabbed his companion through the eye had received the same training. Even though Norton's punch had given him some independent thought, he still maintained machine-like precision and will.
The stick hadn't killed his companion, so he immediately raised his greatsword and swung it down fiercely.
"Clang!"
Two steel greatswords collided with a sharp metallic ring. Normally evenly matched, the attacking knight now proved weaker than the one he'd ambushed.
Even with one eye gouged out and his socket in agony, the Church Knight who spotted the heresy reached peak faith and fervor.
"Heretic, heretic, HERETIC!"
He roared, swinging his greatsword recklessly without any defense, striking blow after blow against his former companion.
While the Holy Church excelled at manipulating people, their steel armor quality was genuinely superior.
The two Church Knights exchanged blows in mechanical combat, their armor denting under greatsword impacts yet never breaking. They could only inflict internal injuries, never achieving dismemberment.
The brainwashed knight grew increasingly frenzied, but blood loss and blurred vision gradually put him at a disadvantage.
When the chipped greatsword finally slammed hard against his helmet, his dazed head could no longer withstand the massive impact. His body stiffened momentarily from the blow, then he collapsed backward.
"Crash!"
The knight in his twenty-to-thirty-kilogram armor fell with a resounding crash, incidentally crushing Norton's charred left calf, then lay still.
Only the Church Knight who had betrayed his order stood swaying on his feet. Even through steel armor, the greatsword's impact was devastating - one arm hung useless, likely broken from the earlier blows.
Yet even now, the inhumanly trained Church Knight remained silent. He simply turned to look behind him.
The poor who had been trailing the knights had already scattered in all directions.
Heretics were far more detestable than heathens. Just as Norton's existence required purging his batch of fellow missionaries and acolytes, any poor who witnessed heresy and didn't flee would face bloody cleansing themselves.
While faith hadn't brought these poor a better life, it had at least given them ideological taboos.
So the moment heresy appeared, nobody lingered over the charcoal-like Norton on the ground - they scattered without a word.
Report to the Church? Don't joke - reporting heresy would get you executed immediately for contaminated thoughts.
Why didn't you confront the heretic yourself?
Yet even so, when this incident reached the Church, the city's poor would face hellish investigations and purges.
All to make everyone understand: the Church must not be defied!
"Hah!" The Church Knight who had slain his companion didn't spare him another glance or consider finishing him off. Instead, he took a steadying breath, then gripped his greatsword with his right hand and hurried deeper into the mass burial ground.
He had to escape!