"Your sin is ignorance and blind obedience!" the Arcanist declared, his voice booming as he pronounced judgment upon the mob.
The villagers were terrified. They didn't understand why Solomon would say such things—but a defiant cry soon rose from the crowd. Someone waved a weapon, shouting that they should slay the false messenger of God. Solomon's expression remained unmoved as he reached out with a power-armored hand, brushing aside the rusted farm tools soaked in pus and blood. With a single punch, he smashed their skulls into their chests, then discarded the crushed bodies like garbage. After only a few steps, his power armor was drenched in blood, yet he paid it no mind and continued his orderly slaughter.
For Solomon, killing was never a difficult task—but never had he lifted a hand against common folk.
No matter how much he loathed these mobs, he had always abided by Kamar-Taj's doctrines. Perhaps the Sorcerer Supreme sensed the molten fury hidden beneath his armor, because he calmly told him that all of them must die. These people had been directly incited by beings from the higher planes—their emotions were not their own. The later Ragna Cult that would inhabit Sun Island, apart from a few survivors, were all migrants from elsewhere in Italy. This was one of the rare extinction-level actions sanctioned by Kamar-Taj, and the one to carry it out was Solomon.
"You who follow inhuman forces, embrace the evil of your own souls." For the first time, he aimed his explosive rifle at ordinary people. "Superstition is the greatest sin. Your souls have been corrupted. You have betrayed the noblest reason and wisdom. You are beyond redemption."
The slaughter was over quickly. One magazine was enough—each shot from the explosive rifle could tear a person in half. In the time it took to empty it, Solomon had wiped out every living being in the plaza. He spared none whose minds had been tainted by outer-dimensional influence. The bonfires were extinguished, scorched bodies littered the square, and rain washed the ashes and blood into red-black streams on the ground. He had not encountered a single Sage or angel; these mobs had only been used as cannon fodder to assault the witches' stronghold—no one cared whether they lived or died.
"Feel any better?" the Sorcerer Supreme asked, standing by one of the foul-smelling streams. "Did this help you regulate your emotions?"
"I didn't kill them out of emotion, Master," Solomon replied as he removed his helmet. His eyes were filled with weariness. Compared to the Salem witch trials, this was barbarism beyond reason. There was only blind slaughter and unprovoked hatred—nothing more. "Why does humanity so eagerly embrace superstition, casting aside noble reason and wisdom like trash?" he asked quietly. "If humanity stays on this path, can we ever escape ignorance and reach beyond Earth?"
"That's the problem you'll have to solve in the future. I don't have a definite answer for you," the Sorcerer said, shaking his head. "I believe you've studied history. All I can say is that humanity has boundless potential—but it must be guided correctly to rise. Regardless, extra-dimensional forces draw power from the mind. If you walk this path, you'll stand opposed to them all. I can only give you the best tools and send you into the future. That's all Kamar-Taj can offer."
"I have no regrets, Master. This isn't the first time I've seen the madness born of ignorance and obedience. I'm just complaining a little—I'm not disappointed in humanity. I'm disappointed in myself," Solomon sighed deeply. "Even though I've planned for the future, seeing the worst in humanity always brings me sorrow. I wonder whether I should truly bear all this with a human heart... Can I really carry it through?"
"I've never doubted your ability."
"Neither have I. I know what the Stigmata means."
"But you do have a choice, my disciple. To carry this burden is cruel for anyone. I'm sure my future self has said something similar. You can choose to walk away. The decision is yours." The Sorcerer gestured toward the silver key hidden beneath Solomon's chestplate—an alternative path. But Solomon didn't hesitate. He shook his head.
Following the example of the first Sorcerer Supreme, Agamotto—abandoning his human identity—was never an option he'd even considered. In fact, he found the idea repugnant. This was one reason why he had a strained relationship with the Vishanti.
"But don't decide too quickly, Solomon. Time will give you the answer. And you need time to think." The Sorcerer smiled. "But that's a discussion for another day. Come now—your lesson isn't over. Let's move on. There's still wonder to be seen in the timeline."
"Can I kill some Sages or angels?" Solomon asked.
"Of course, my disciple. Do whatever you like," the Sorcerer replied, like a parent agreeing to buy a child a gift. "They're all going to die anyway—does it matter who delivers the final blow? Of course, assuming they've fulfilled their duties. I know it's cruel. What you've seen will continue. But it's what they must do."
Bayonetta and Rosa didn't take long to reach the tower. Even at the cost of precious battle mechs and after slaying several Quaternity Angels, they still dragged their weary bodies to the witches' final defensive line. But what greeted them wasn't the valiant resistance of their kin—it was a meteor crashing down from the heavens.
The flaming meteor struck with unerring precision, piercing the ancient tower that had stood for millennia as the heart of witchkind. Centuries of accumulated knowledge and technology were either buried beneath the rubble or consumed in fire. Under the pale full moon lay the broken corpses of countless witches. The pair Rosa had sent ahead had already perished. A glance revealed there were no survivors. Those few who escaped the collapse were soon slaughtered by angels.
Even Rosa was shaken by the sight.
"No! He would never do this!"
The meteor shower had been unleashed by none other than the surviving Quaternity Angels—those who had escaped death at Rosa and Bayonetta's hands. To wipe out the witches and seize the Eye of the World, the higher planes had spared no expense, dispatching powerful entities long kept in reserve. Rosa couldn't believe her lover had actually ordered the angels to do this. Bayonetta wanted to say this is exactly the kind of thing Balder would do, but seeing her mother so grief-stricken, she swallowed her words.
A massive explosion erupted at their feet. Bayonetta yanked Rosa aside just in time, pulling her out of range of the fireball launched by the Quaternity Angel Fortitude.
Rosa didn't hesitate for long—she immediately counterattacked. The easygoing composure Solomon had once seen in her vanished. As the most powerful witch and former bearer of the Eye of the World, Rosa demonstrated breathtaking strength. Fueled by a rage Bayonetta had never witnessed, she tore through the ruins like fire bursting through rock. Whether shooting, in melee, or summoning magic, she far surpassed anything Bayonetta had ever displayed—more powerful, more experienced.
Rosa even tore one of Fortitude's dragon heads clean off with her bare hands and summoned a lower-plane entity to drag the angel into the abyss.
Suddenly, Bayonetta fired a shot. The bullet struck and dispersed a beam of light that had been aimed at Rosa.
And then she saw who the attacker was.
"You little thing... what are you doing here?"
(End of Chapter)
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