"I don't think you understand, Dante. It’s not just the aberrants that used to be human.” Elara pointed at the hanging corpse. “Everybody you’ve seen here used to be alive once. They’re the souls of the damned.”

I stared blankly at her, not quite understanding. “Everybody here...the people in the town… They’re all real? But I thought only aberrants got sent to Hell? You’re saying everyone here is like me?”

“No way. Aberrants are a one-in-a-million sorta thing. You think we’d go through all this just for you?” She gestured to the environment around us.

“Then it’s true about Hell… All these people were evil.”

Elara stifled laughter. “Evil? I don’t know. Maybe some of them. No, in the afterlife we don’t think about that kind of stuff.”

“Then who are the souls that get sent here?”

Elara’s nose scrunched in annoyance—the face she always makes when she’s forced to explain something. “The souls you see here are the ones with lingering feelings. Not unlike an aberrant, but instead of a fully-formed memory, they bring their emotions with them.”

“Emotions? Like what?”

Elara shrugged. “Guilt, usually. And regret is a big one. You know, the stuff that gnaws at you at night when you’re trying to sleep. Hell is a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The souls that think they belong here tend to bring those feelings with them into the afterlife.”

“But why go through all this? Why force them to act out a witch trial?” I recalled the impassioned mob and the fear that fueled their actions. This wasn’t just a scenario. It felt real to them.

“Those lingering emotions have to be cleared out somehow. The best way to do that is to make them confront their demons,” she said matter-of-factly. “The souls here might not have been involved in an actual witch hunt, but they feel some sort of similar guilt. Maybe they falsely accused a neighbor or spread rumors that got someone hurt.”

I turned to the body of Mathus Crowley, who had just been hanged as a witch. “Then what happens to him? Double death?”

“He simply...ceases to exist. All that remained of him is gone forever."

I felt my heart sink to my stomach. I pulled over my hood, then started to leave the square.

"Where are you going?" Elara called out.

Without looking back I replied, "I'm hunting a witch."

* * *

The residents of Honeywell prepared for the night, shutting their curtains and blowing out oil lamps. As I passed, I noticed a woman watching me with suspicious eyes. She hastily retreated into her home and I wondered who she might have been in a past life.

Hell forces them to relive their worst moments in this distorted nightmare scenario. And if what Elara told me is true, a part of them thinks they deserve this…

But death here was eternal. Infinite nothingness. At the very least, I could give them a shot at redemption.

I would have to find the witch as soon as possible.

First, I had to familiarize myself with the town. But the roads of Honeywell were a winding tangle of dead ends and dark alleyways. As I approached the main road, a display popped up before me:

[Wait! This town is wary of strangers.]

[Pick a role and the Circle will repopulate with your chosen character's history. But choose wisely. Some roles have advantages that others might not.]

- Apothecary

- Farmer

- Bard

- Traveling Merchant

I guess I need to play a part.

I read through the options carefully. I needed a role that let me travel through the town and speak to many people without raising eyebrows.

Apothecary sounded appealing. Access to potions and herbs could be valuable and I would receive a lot of traffic from townspeople. But it also came with risk. it would be too easy to raise suspicion. It was too close to witchcraft.

Farmer seemed innocuous enough, but I would be stuck on the edge of town, far away from any vital information.

Bard sounded appealing. I could get into a lot of buildings that way. But I'd be thrown out the second I opened my mouth to sing.

All that was left was Traveling Merchant.

I guess that'll do. Might raise some suspicions being an out-of-town role. But it's a good fit with my new trait enhancement. I can naturally form a handshake when needed.

I tapped the "Traveling Merchant" option.

<Traveling Merchant>

[From first edition books to rare pocket watches, you deal in all things of antiquity. You have traveled all over the continent, but this is your first time visiting the town of Honeywell.]

[You hope that the current fear of witches and demonic powers has given the town a desire for the nostalgic pleasures of the past.]

[Your inventory has been filled with items that you are hoping to sell during your stay.]

Upon checking the inventory, I found that almost half the spots had been taken by trinkets such as bronze jewelry, spy glasses, jars of incense, and leather-bound tomes.

With my new role decided, I finally began the hunt.

I walked the winding paths of the town. Everybody had returned to their homes and the streets were dark and empty. The moonlight cast long, distorted shadows across the cobblestone. I kept to the alleyways and the shadows for fear of being seen.

The people here are on edge... Give them even the smallest excuse and they'll accuse you of being a witch.

I caught sight of movement, then instantly pulled back into the alleyway. I crouched down and peered around the corner.

A man stood outside a butcher's shop, judging by the boar's head imagery on the storefront sign. He looked to be in his thirties, skin pale as moonlight, with a pointed jaw and a head of slicked-back, white hair.

The pale man scanned the area, checking for any bystanders. When he was sure that nobody was watching, he kneeled before the door.

Damn, I can't see what he's doing. His body is blocking my view.

When he was done with his work, the pale man rose to his feet, then started coming towards me.

Shit! Did he see me?

I quickly pulled the demon bone from my inventory, held it in one hand, and grabbed a patch of dirt with the other. I could distract him with my displays, then strike with the bone.

The sound of hard leather soles against cobblestone approached, I gripped the bone tightly, prepared to attack. As the footsteps came near, I had a worrying thought…

What if he's innocent?

The thought made me hesitate. If I killed him, I would be sentencing this man to oblivion.

The footsteps were nearly upon me. My body started to jolt forward when I halted my momentum, realizing the stranger had already started to pass me by, unaware of my presence.

I let out a sigh of relief. He hadn't seen me after all.

When the coast was clear, I slid out of my hiding spot and moved to examine the door. There didn't seem to be anything amiss at first, just thick, aged wood.

But then I spotted it—a small mark in the bottom corner of the door, right at the hinge, where it wouldn't be noticed...

It looked like a "3" with a line cutting vertically through it.

[Log Entry: Pale Man marked the door of the butcher's shop.]

I studied the mark closely, wondering what it could mean. Regardless of what it was, I would have to keep a close eye on this shop.

Suddenly, I heard something in the distance.

What was that? It almost sounded like a...scream?

I hastily dashed towards the sound, trying to navigate the town's winding labyrinth of alleyways.

I passed a narrow passage next to the bakery and something about it felt off. Perhaps the shadows didn't seem quite right. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight and a chill traveled down my spine. All my senses were saying the same thing.

There's something evil there.

The sound of labored breathing and the sickening, squelching noise of wet flesh sent me darting behind the wall. I brought up my inventory, frantically scanning through all the items that had been entered. The only weapon I could find was an ancient Bronze Age sword.

When I drew it from my inventory, I found the edge was dull, the bronze surface tarnished green from centuries of oxidation, and the flat metal hilt had no bindings. Its coarse, rusted edges bit into my skin, chafing with every grip.

It's better than nothing, I guess.

My heart pounded in my chest as I inched forward. The air was thick and suffocating, and I could smell the bloodlust lingering in the air. My fingers tightened around the ancient sword, frozen to it, like a lifeline.

The moonlight didn't reach down here. I could hardly see in front of me. With a subtle flick of my wrist, I summoned a display that cast a blue light upon the darkness to find...

... a towering beast with wolf-like features and matted, mangy gray fur. Its snout dripped red, stained with blood and flesh of its victim. Standing upright on its long, gangly hind legs, it loomed tall and menacing. A predator in its natural habitat.

[You have discovered a new demon!]