There was more than one recording crystal.
In fact, Lin Jun hadn't made any of them himself. Elinore had brought them along when she fled to the Mushroom Fortress, her private collection, taken out now and again to savor in her leisure time.
On that point, Lin Jun could actually understand her. In his view, though, the collection was a little one-note, lacking variety. For the audience in Puchi Plaza, however, it was more than stimulating enough.
Quite a few people retched on the spot at those brutal images. Others huddled in corners, choking back sobs: the ones who had lived through it.
"What is that thing planning?" Sirian murmured to himself, brow furrowed.
He had assumed the mushrooms meant to bring Elinore into their ranks. But the scene in front of him looked nothing like that. It looked far more like a formal reading of charges before an execution. And yet Elinore's entrance, head high and unhurried as she glided into the seat of honor, made it hard to reconcile the two.
The recording crystals played for a full hour. By the end, the resentment rolling off the crowd below was almost a physical thing.
Most Mushroom Fortress residents were demonkind, yet Elinore's blood-livestock facilities had been notably egalitarian on that front, keeping demonkind in their cells right alongside the rest. A different kind of species equality.
Many of those present were former slaves rescued during the Despair Mushroom Operation. The looks they turned on Elinore were pure hunger for something worse than death.
"All right," Norris said, putting away the crystal. "Let's give Elinore a round of applause."
Even at the host's prompting, the applause that rose from the crowd was thin and scattered.
The Puchis ringing the stage, on the other hand, clapped their tentacles at Elinore in perfect unison.
Something was off. Elinore could feel it. She glanced at the Marshal Puchi beside her, voice dropping slightly. "Boss, this..."
"And now, the phase everyone has been waiting for: the execution."
"What? Execution?!"
The ornate armchair's hidden mechanism tripped at both armrests and the footrest simultaneously.
And then something went wrong.
Elinore had her hands resting on her knees, not the armrests, so only her feet were shackled.
"What... what is this?!" Elinore, already wound tight, lost her composure entirely. She couldn't understand how everything had flipped like this. She was supposed to reclaim her status and power today. The gap between expectation and reality was so enormous that she thrashed frantically for a good while before remembering to gather her blood. But the shackle runes at her ankles had already lit up, disrupting her magic, and the skill failed the moment it formed.
Louisa appeared from nowhere beside the chair and pressed both hands to Elinore's shoulders, pinning her back into the seat.
"Lucky we rigged the feet too. Though really, how do other people guarantee the prisoner puts both hands on the armrests?" Lin Jun wondered, then gently curled his tentacles around Elinore's hands and placed them back on the armrests. The mechanism reactivated.
The shackles closed. She was completely locked in.
Elinore was truly frightened now.
Her voice carried a clear tremor, edged with something close to tears. "Boss, why? I already surrendered. I'm willing to pledge my loyalty to you! Why are you still... why..."
Because you're dumb and useless. Better to turn you into Little Pig's breakthrough elixir.
"For justice, of course!" A commanding voice rang out from the Marshal Puchi's belly, filling the entire plaza. "You have harmed countless souls. Your crimes are unforgivable. How could the righteous Mushroom Fortress tolerate such evil in its midst!"
The Marshal Puchi swept a tentacle.
Norris took his cue and called out: "Please welcome the victim representatives!"
Ten chosen representatives stepped out from the crowd.
Humans, dwarves, lizardmen, beastmen, and two who had already become Puchis.
Norris distributed ten specially made daggers and reminded them: "One cut each. No going for the head or the heart. No twisting the blade. No random slashing."
"You! Which lowlife dares? I'll kill every last one of you!"
Nobody stepped back.
The first victim representative came forward. A young human woman. Crisscross scars ran across her face. The hand holding the dagger trembled, but her eyes didn't flinch.
"For my sister."
The dagger went into Elinore's abdomen. Not deep, but Elinore screamed. The runes on the blade lit up dark red the instant they touched flesh: no additional wound, only pain, amplified.
Elinore hadn't even caught her breath from the first blow when the second representative stepped up.
A middle-aged dwarf, beard unkempt, deep lines carved around his eyes.
"For my father."
The dagger went into her side. Elinore's scream turned into a raw howl, every vein in her neck standing out.
"For my comrades!"
"For my family!"
"For myself!"
Blow after blow. Through the screams, Elinore's curses and threats drained away into desperate, pitiful begging.
Nobody softened.
One of the victim representatives lost control and drove the blade in a second time. Puchis pulled them back.
When the last representative had stepped down, the Marshal Puchi walked to the front of the stage. Behind it, the crimson cape stirred in the breeze.
"To our friends from the allied nations: I know that many of you felt uneasy when you first saw the diversity of peoples here. You worried that the demonkind in this city might be like Elinore, cruel, greedy, treating other races as prey."
"But I want to say this: fungal folk are fungal folk. Not demon, not dwarf, not human. And the Mushroom Fortress is not an ordinary power. It is a righteous organization."
"As with Elinore. Regardless of her strength as a lord, regardless of her willingness to surrender and pledge loyalty, the Mushroom Fortress will not make use of any villain so laden with sin."
"Villains will meet the end that villains deserve."
---
Given the scale of Elinore's crimes, what followed seemed, if anything, understated.
Elinore's desperate pleas and wailing went on for a long time. Long enough that the crowd had nearly gone numb before it gradually quieted and finally fell silent. The only sign anything was still happening was the crimson glow of the magical ritual continuing to run.
When No. 13 rolled up the elaborate ceremonial robe and carefully gathered the ashes left on the ground, the crowd slowly understood: the execution was over.
Those whose grudges had been settled cheered and wept in the same breath. Others looked on in stunned silence at what they had just witnessed.
Vera and his companions were no different. She had died well, they agreed. In their adventuring days they had heard more than enough terrifying rumors about this vampire duke.
And when they looked at the demon residents among the fungal folk afterward, the unease from before had eased into something closer to indifference.
Fayin asked quietly: "Does the Fungus Lord actually want to build a perfect nation for all races?"
"On the condition of mycelial symbiosis?" Fayling still looked skeptical.
The execution over, the crowd began to disperse. Vera and the others started toward their inn.
"A perfect nation." Sirian was the last to turn away. He glanced back at the enormous Puchi statue in the plaza. "Pity. The more perfect it is, the more fleeting."
He shrugged and lengthened his stride to catch up.
(End of Chapter)
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