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[Local Hero]

Jon ate Vash

 

[dimmerwit]

 

[Benzine]

The votes came slow at first. Uncertain. Hesitant. As if the village feared the echo of its own voice.

But by mid-afternoon, the tide shifted. No shouting, no defenses this time. Just silent looks, subtle nods, and a quiet consensus that settled over the square like dust.

Jon stood beneath the rope with a kind of reluctant grace, as though he had been expecting this since the very beginning. He didn't ask for mercy. He didn't plead. He just watched the clouds move.

When the platform dropped, there was no scream — only a low, reverberating creak of wood and a single gust of wind that swept through the square like a final exhale.

Then came the sound.

Not from Jon — but from the rope itself. It snapped.

Not broken. Bitten. Splintered fibers torn in a way no blade could manage. Beneath him, the ground churned ever so slightly, as if something deep beneath had stirred at the moment of his death.

And when they dared approach the body, what remained wasn't just a man.

It was a beast with blood still under the nails.

Jon has died. He was the Berserk Werewolf.