Black Phoenix Heir

Chapter 61: Chapter 61 — The Judgment

Chapter 61 — The Judgment

The Shaman walked slowly into the center of the hall, holding his staff slightly raised as he moved through the gathered members of the tribe.

The atmosphere changed the moment he entered.

One by one, the tribe members lowered their heads.

Then the elders did the same.

Even Gregal, who had spent the past several minutes loudly demanding Victor’s death, bowed respectfully toward the strange man.

Victor watched the scene in silence.

So this was how much authority the Shaman had.

The man eventually reached the front of the hall and stopped. His strange robes hung loosely around his body, decorated with symbols and ceremonial objects that Victor didn’t recognize. The upside-down alchemical flask remained visible on his staff.

Oheema slowly raised her head.

"Thank you for coming."

The Shaman looked toward her.

Oheema continued.

"Please perform the ritual of Samal. We must learn what Samal wishes for us to do with these outsiders."

The Shaman nodded.

Then his eyes moved toward Victor.

And the little bird.

Victor felt his stomach tighten.

The Shaman approached him first.

His movements were calm and deliberate as he reached into a small bag hanging from his side. When his hand emerged, his fingers were covered in a strange red powder resembling chalk.

Victor watched him carefully.

The man stopped directly in front of him.

Then the Shaman pressed his thumb against Victor’s forehead.

A streak of red appeared across his skin.

Victor frowned.

Before he could react, the Shaman moved toward the cage.

The little black bird immediately fluttered backward.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anywhere for it to go.

The Shaman reached through the opening and gently pressed his thumb against the creature’s head.

Another red mark appeared.

The bird chirped anxiously.

Then the Shaman stepped back.

For several moments, he simply stood there.

His eyes remained fixed on Victor and the bird.

Victor couldn’t tell what the man was doing.

It almost looked as though he was searching for something.

Peering into something Victor couldn’t see.

The silence inside the hall became uncomfortable.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

After a while, the Shaman finally turned away.

He walked toward the center of the hall.

Victor watched as the man reached into his bag again.

The red powder appeared between his fingers.

Then the Shaman crouched down.

Slowly, carefully, he began drawing across the wooden floor.

Victor’s eyes widened.

The symbol gradually took shape.

An upside-down alchemical flask.

Water appeared to be dripping from its opening.

The Shaman continued drawing until the symbol was large enough for him to stand inside.

Victor stared at it.

The same symbol.

Again.

The realization from earlier remained firmly in his mind.

The Shaman finally stood.

Then the ritual began.

He stepped into the center of the symbol and began moving.

At first, his movements were slow.

One step.

Then another.

His staff moved through the air as his body turned. The strange objects attached to his robes shifted and rattled softly while he continued the dance, moving around the center of the symbol in deliberate patterns.

Victor watched silently.

The entire tribe watched.

Nobody dared interrupt.

This was the Sacred Dance of Samal.

Minutes passed.

The Shaman continued.

Then, finally, he stopped.

His staff struck the floor.

Once.

Silence.

Victor waited.

The elders waited.

Everyone inside the hall waited.

Five minutes passed.

Victor wasn’t sure what exactly he had expected.

Lightning?

A voice descending from the heavens?

Some kind of mysterious sign?

Instead, the Shaman simply stood there in complete silence.

Then he reached into his bag again.

This time, his hand emerged holding a fistful of white powder.

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

The Shaman suddenly threw it into the air.

The powder spread through the room.

Then something strange happened.

Instead of falling to the ground, it drifted toward Victor.

And the bird.

A cloud of white surrounded them.

Victor instinctively held his breath.

The little bird began fluttering anxiously inside its cage as the strange powder covered them both.

Then the Shaman spoke.

"It is Samal’s will."

Victor felt his stomach drop.

The hall became completely silent.

The Shaman’s eyes remained fixed ahead.

"Both outsiders will be sacrificed during the Festival of Mana."

The words echoed through the hall.

"When the Day of Mana arrives, they will be brought before the Holy Altar."

His expression didn’t change.

"Their blood will pay for their offenses against Samal."

That was it.

The verdict.

Victor stood silently.

For several seconds, he couldn’t think of anything.

He had known this was possible.

Gregal had made his intentions clear from the beginning.

But hearing it officially declared was something entirely different.

Victor was going to die.

The bird was going to die.

And apparently, there was absolutely nothing either of them could do about it.

The Shaman lowered his hand.

Then he looked toward Oheema.

He didn’t say another word.

He simply turned around.

And walked away.

Victor remained standing in the center of the hall.

His thoughts were strangely quiet.

For once, there wasn’t a plan forming inside his mind.

There wasn’t some desperate idea waiting to be discovered.

Nothing.

Then Victor looked toward the left side of the room.

His eyes found Moonlight.

For a brief moment, their gazes met.

Victor could see the sadness in her eyes.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

But for some reason, seeing her expression made everything feel more real.

The verdict had been given.

There was no misunderstanding.

No more waiting for the elders to decide.

His fate had been placed in front of the entire tribe.

"Move."

The guard’s voice came from beside him.

Victor didn’t resist.

The man grabbed the cage containing the little bird and pushed Victor forward.

Only then did the hall finally come alive.

The moment the Shaman disappeared through the doors, the silence shattered.

Cheers erupted from the gathered tribe members.

"There will be blood!"

"The heathens must pay!"

"Samal demands sacrifice!"

Voices rose throughout the hall.

Some tribe members shouted with excitement while others struck their fists against their chests. The anger and hatred that had been restrained during the ritual now spilled freely into the room.

Victor kept walking.

He didn’t look back.

The sounds of the crowd slowly faded behind them as they moved through the village. Smoke drifted from the cooking fires, and tribe members continued with their daily lives beneath the towering trees surrounding the settlement.

Victor walked silently.

The Mana Lock cuffs remained wrapped around his wrists and ankles.

Beside him, the guard carried the little bird’s cage.

Victor glanced toward his companion.

The creature looked back at him.

A strange feeling settled inside Victor’s chest.

The bird didn’t deserve this.

It hadn’t understood where they were going.

It had simply followed him.

And now it had been sentenced to die alongside him.

Victor looked forward again.

There was nothing he could do.

The walk back to the prison felt much shorter than the walk to the council hall.

Before long, the familiar wooden hut appeared ahead.

The guard opened the door.

Victor stepped inside.

The cage was placed back inside the cell before the guard removed Victor’s restraints and shoved him through the entrance.

The little bird fluttered out once the cage was opened.

Then—

BANG.

The cell door slammed shut.

Victor stood silently inside the Mana Lock Prison.

The little bird landed beside him.

For a long time, neither of them moved.

Outside, the tribe continued celebrating.

Inside the prison, Victor slowly sat down against the wooden wall.

He looked toward the small bird.

Then he closed his eyes.

For the first time since arriving in the village, Victor allowed himself to accept the truth.

The Festival of Mana was coming.

And unless something changed before then—

They were both going to die.

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