Each step of the demon hunter was accompanied by a disgusting squelching sound as he walked along the narrow, foul-smelling street of the town. He had just arrived here in search of work, wanted to chat with the locals in the tavern, collect rumors. But the tavern was almost empty, and the innkeeper simply lazily pointed him to the central square. Dietrich had no choice but to follow in that direction.

The weather was abhorrent. Heavy autumn clouds covered the entire sky, and a viscous fog hung in the air, absorbing the disgusting smell of slops and human excrement, so typical of such towns.

Dietrich had heard the roar and shouts of the crowd for a long time, but now the scattered sounds began to make sense.

“Burn the witch! Burn the witch!” to this frantic chanting, the man walked out into the open space in front of the city hall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the platform with the wooden pole and stacked firewood.

Dietrich grimaced. "What an ignorant rabble," he muttered with disgust, looking around at the ragged crowd in ecstasy awaiting the execution.

A young woman with her hands tightly bound behind her back was brought out onto the platform to deafening hoots. A man in a black cassock began monotonously reading out the 'crimes' of the unfortunate woman, but Dietrich was sure that all this was nothing more than a figment of the sick imagination of her 'judges'.

Dietrich walked forward, unceremoniously pushing aside those gathered. Someone tried to express indignation, but Dietrich's menacing appearance immediately stifled all objections and complaints. The man was able to come closer and examine the one who was accused of witchcraft.

She certainly looked pitiful. Her once striking appearance was now disfigured by traces of 'interrogations' and other horrors of her stay in the local dungeon. However, some fire still burned in her tired eyes, which attracted Dietrich's attention.

The hunter did not notice how he found himself in the first row right in front of the platform.