The night was deep. Heavy, dark clouds obscured the moonlight, shrouding the small town of Salem in a suffocating darkness.
In stark contrast to this was the brightly lit study of Judge Hopkins.
There were no treasures here, nor any fine wines or delicacies.
A room full of legal decrees and documents, along with a Bible on the desk that had been flipped through until its edges curled and was covered in annotations—this constituted the entirety of this Inquisitor and Judge's daily life.
Matthew Hopkins, the "Witchfinder General" who was about to set off the Salem Witch Trials in the original historical trajectory, was currently kneeling before a cross, his expression sincere and solemn.
If not for the bloodshot veins filling his eyes, no one would have noticed anything amiss with this judge.
"Oh Lord, why is the trial imposed upon us so harsh?"
"That Devil's House which appeared so suddenly... everything there is bait to lure us, sugar-coated poison to seduce souls into depravity."
He looked at the report submitted by the Town Guard in his hand—the townspeople of Salem were increasingly indulging in the desires of the palate; the originally solemn sounds of prayer were being replaced by laughter and the sounds of chewing.
In Hopkins' eyes, this was not a scene of happiness, but an omen that the gates of Hell were flinging open.
He did not covet wealth. As the Lord's agent on this land, he followed his faith with such sincerity.
He truly believed that only asceticism and abstinence could save everyone's souls in this land plagued by restless spirits and omens of doom.
"It must be eradicated... even if I must bear infamy, even if my hands must be stained with blood..."
Hopkins stood up trembling. He took out a flintlock pistol loaded with silver bullets from his drawer. His eyes revealed a will that was a mixture of resolve and madness.
"For the purity of Salem, only death can terminate that outsider's erosion of this land."
"His death is mandatory... it is necessary..."
"Sigh, this is truly heartbreaking."
An abrupt male voice rang out beside his ear without any warning, carrying a hint of helplessness.
"I originally thought the Lord Judge asked me to come tomorrow morning because he was short of money and wanted to sponge off some benefits. I didn't expect there to really be people in this world who hold high positions yet have such muddled heads."
"Who is it?!"
Hopkins' reaction was extremely fast. Almost the instant the voice sounded, he spun around violently, the flintlock in his hand pulling the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
Fire spewed forth, and the silver bullet, rumored to be capable of repelling evil, whistled out.
However, an invisible hand grabbed the gun barrel nonchalantly and casually lifted it upward.
The bullet struck the ceiling, shaking down a few wisps of dust.
The air distorted for a moment, and the figures of Suke and Sanson slowly materialized.
Suke held that scorching gun barrel with one hand. With just a slight exertion of force, a crack was heard, and the barrel made of refined iron was pinched flat like playdough.
"As a judge, trying to use lynching without a trial... that doesn't seem to comply with the rules, does it?"
Suke casually tossed the flintlock, now turned into scrap iron, onto the ground, looking at the middle-aged man with the twisted expression before him.
"Devils... you are indeed the apostles of the Devil!"
Hopkins did not retreat. He grabbed the silver cross from the desk and stabbed it toward Suke like he was wielding a dagger. There was no fear in his eyes, only the anger of seeing something unclean.
"Get out of Salem! As long as I, Matthew Hopkins, live for even one day, you filthy things shall not think of laying a finger on this holy town!"
"Tsk, what a stubborn old man."
Suke shook his head. Before Sanson could make a move, he stepped forward. Relying on the unreasonable strength check of a Farmer, he pressed down on Hopkins' shoulder, forcibly pinning him back into the chair.
The immense disparity in strength rendered Hopkins immobile, able only to emit low, beast-like roars.
"Listen, I have no interest in your so-called faith or Lord, nor do I intend to be some boring devil."
Suke pulled out a piece of parchment he had written earlier from his bosom and slapped it onto the table.
"I came to Salem for nothing else but my own business."
"Tomorrow morning, you will go to the Meeting House to read out this new decree: Abolish the ban on entertainment in the town, recognize the operation of my Sweet House in Salem, and cease the so-called heretic trials and witch hunts."
Suke stared into Hopkins' eyes, which looked as if they wanted to devour a person, and said:
"As long as you do as told, you will still be the judge revered by everyone here. You might even gain more praise due to your leniency toward the townspeople."
"And I can also allow this small town to radiate with more vitality. No matter how you think about it, this is a win-win cooperation..."
"Don't you dare!!!"
Hopkins let out a shrill roar, saliva spraying everywhere.
"You want me to bow to desire? You want me to watch helplessly as the Lord's subjects slide into the abyss?! Never!!"
"My soul belongs to the Lord! Even if my flesh is destroyed, I will absolutely not make a deal with you filthy devils!!"
Suke frowned deeply.
If this Hopkins were simply a corrupt official starting witch hunts for his own selfish desires, Suke wouldn't mind sending him straight to meet his Lord with a single blade strike.
But clearly, a person like Hopkins was actually the type of figure who most conformed to the mainstream values of this era and steadfastly carried them out.
No wonder the townspeople of Salem looked upon him with both respect and fear. Suke felt a bit relieved.
Truly troublesome.
"Since I can't reason with you, then don't blame me for using some measures."
Suke sighed and shot a glance at Sanson beside him.
"Knock him out and put him under house arrest. I'll provide the location for the confinement. Also, see if you can forge his handwriting to create a legal decree document."
"As long as the new decree is promulgated, even if there are many suspicious points, it will push the current relaxed atmosphere to continue developing."
"By that time, when the new atmosphere develops into a 'trend,' it won't be something this old fogey can reverse."
Sanson nodded, appearing to approve of Suke's handling method.
Regarding this judge, Hopkins, although he looked very suspicious—very much like an incarnation of the Demon God Pillar—Sanson actually held more admiration than hostility toward him based on his words and deeds in daily life.
Sanson stepped forward, preparing to knock Hopkins unconscious and take him away.
"Be not among winebibbers; among riotous eaters of flesh..." (Proverbs 23:20)
But at this very moment, Hopkins, who was pinned in the chair, suddenly began to murmur in a low voice.
These familiar Bible verses made Suke pause. Wasn't this exactly what Abigail had chanted when she was eating in Stardew Valley before?
At this moment, the same words were spoken from Hopkins' mouth, yet they carried a creepiness that made one's hair stand on end.
"And drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags..."
"Oh Lord... I am willing to use this broken body... to fulfill my faith in You..."
Hopkins' body suddenly convulsed violently, and cracking sounds exploded from between his skeletal joints.
"Something's wrong, fall back quickly!"
Sanson's expression changed abruptly. He grabbed Suke and retreated violently.
They saw Hopkins' skin beginning to slough off like melting candle wax. The muscles underneath presented an ominous purplish-black color, proliferating and expanding madly.
"To... purge... the heretics..."
His voice became turbid and low, finally turning into an inhuman roar.
"ROAR————!!"
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