Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop

SLAP!

“AAAAAAAH!”

The fourth slap.

The reason the villagers were so keen on pushing away the church at the request of the prince, was of course, not only because of the royal resource freeing them from Vlad’s mind control.

It was because the prince himself had terrorized them.

SLAP!

“GUH! UGH!”

“Hmm, seeing how they reacted, it seems you had also touched their women too, huh?” Burn muttered as he delivered the fifth slap. 

Their unexpected display of emotion stemmed from weeks of tyranny under the prince's ‘rest’ in their village after he was kicked away from the church.

Each slap, echoing the grievances and silent sufferings they had endured, struck a chord within their hearts. As the prince lay powerless, the peasants saw a symbol of their own liberation unfolding before their eyes.

It was as if each tear shed was a release of pent-up anguish, and with every drop, they washed away some of the bitterness that had long tainted their lives.

SLAP!!

How could they possibly challenge the prince of the empire? 

Even as the prince teetered on the edge of downfall, his royal status ensured that any rebellion against him would be met with severe consequences, with no protection from the higher echelons of power.

Their women were violated, their children attacked—yet what options did they have? They were powerless, crushed under the prince's tyrannical will. 

So, when the depraved prince demanded the women of the church, their fury had no choice but to simmer and redirect. Anything, just to get that monster off their backs.

SLAP!!

The grand finale—the seventh slap!

Clearly, a performance worth a standing ovation.

There lay the prince, a royal mess on the ground, his face a deconstructed, cubism painting—abstract and barely recognizable.

His teeth had gone on a little adventure, some hanging by a thread in his mouth, others taking a bloody dive onto the dirty floor, and a lucky few getting a first-class trip down his throat. Swallowed, or clogged his respiratory system.

Calling him black and blue would be like calling a tornado a gentle breeze—utterly inadequate. The man wasn't just bruised; he was a walking, well, lying disaster.

Might have snagged himself a minor concussion too, if he's lucky. What a show, folks, what a show!

If you asked Burn, he'd tell you he wasn't fucking satisfied yet. But if he kept it up, he'd definitely end up killing the bastard. Wouldn't be his loss, though, but a damn tragedy for everyone else. Especially those poor villagers.

And the vampires. Well, given how things were going, Burn would be affected eventually too.

But, this time was ripe for the vampire’s mind control ability to shine.

Thus, Burn turned toward Vlad, and with one look, the old man knew what to do.

Burn's voice was low. "I want you to instill a fear," he began, his words deliberate, "a fear so deep, so dormant, that it lingers in their subconscious, that their own brain works hard to suppress the memory.”

“Ensure they tremble at the mere thought of this place; make them never dare to even approach these grounds again."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink into the minds of everyone present. There was a sinister calm in his demeanor, a poised readiness of a predator.

Slowly, his head turned towards the crumpled figure of the prince, who was a lying mess on the ground.

With a sudden movement, Burn stepped towards the prince. His hand shot out, fingers entwining cruelly in the prince's hair. He clenched his fist, yanking the prince’s head back with such force that it seemed he might rip the hair right from his scalp.

The prince gasped, half conscious, a sharp, pained sound that echoed within the courtyard.

Burn leaned down. His expression was one of cold fury mixed with a twisted satisfaction. 

“Especially this guy.”

Burn tightened his grip, pulling the prince up with a rough jerk, treating him no better than a sack of flesh. The prince's body jolted, his limbs flailing weakly as he struggled to find his footing.

Burn held him there, suspended in discomfort and fear.

“Go on,” he said to Vlad.

Burn realized that these devoted vampires had an aversion to getting their hands dirty.

It became clear that this was the very reason they welcomed him into their secretive community—someone had to take care of the less glamorous tasks.

And so, they continued to wait on their feet, seemingly incapable of lifting a finger themselves. What an excruciating way of life. Shackled beasts with hunger for blood, yet they chose this kind of life themselves.

Vlad unveiled his upper veil, a pair of crimson orbs glowed from within.

The knights and the prince, already in a state of vulnerability and mental weakness, fell under the old vampire's powerful mind control spell.

Their minds were tormented, their fears amplified a hundredfold. Vlad delivered precisely what Burn had requested: an overwhelming surge of pure terror.

But Vlad didn’t stop there. He did the same with the villagers, but a tad bit different.

He offered more lenience and empathy in his mind control spell, giving them a chance to heal their sanity, both from today’s event, and the prince’s torment.

“Go home. Go back to your own places,” Vlad said.

As the commotion subsided, like zombies, the crowd slowly dispersed. The mob seemed entranced as they departed, while the knights retreated on horseback, dragging the second prince with them.

"Thank you for your assistance," Vlad expressed his gratitude as he approached Burn, who stood there visibly annoyed.

"You all could have managed without me," Burn retorted, his voice tinged with irritation.

"Indeed, we might have," Vlad conceded.

"However, the vampires are young and still navigating their faith. They are quickly agitated, and once they resort to violence, it becomes difficult to rein them back in. The instinctual craving for blood dominates our nature," he explained.

“Why would I care about that? It became annoying, so I took care of it,” Burn said flatly, “But, you owe me one, old man.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows, chuckling. “Sure.”

“So now, bring me to her.”

The two immediately exchanged looks.

“Morgan Le Fay.”

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