Wednesday: The Strongest Psychic

Chapter 270: Execution

After that confrontation with the Frumps, Wednesday caught up to Luke with her precise stride. “Very diplomatic of you,” she remarked in her usual dry, sarcastic tone.

Luke shrugged slightly, glancing at her sideways. “I was quite polite and diplomatic. Compared to the look your grandmother gave me, I was almost… charming.”

Enid joined them too, adding with a smirk, “If that’s diplomacy, I don’t want to see what you’re like when you’re not being diplomatic.”

“Was I that rude?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow at both of them.

“Yes,” Wednesday and Enid replied in unison.

“You hit them right where it hurts: the fact that my brother and I carry the Addams surname,” Wednesday added.

“I have to admit, I liked how uncomfortable you made them… but, sorry Wednesday, I didn’t really like your maternal grandmother,” Enid said, hesitating for a second before speaking.

“No need to apologize. I don’t like her either,” Wednesday said without a hint of hesitation.

Then she looked at Luke. “Well done.”

Luke gave a faint smile. “Do I have your blessing?”

“Stop pushing your luck and walk,” Wednesday said, giving him a slight shove.

They finally arrived at the courtyard where the execution would take place.

A vast, circular marble esplanade, open to the overcast sky. Rows of raised benches curved around a central platform.

They weren’t the first to arrive. Over half the seats were already occupied. Luke recognized familiar faces: Xavier and Ajax with their respective families. His maternal grandfather was there too, with Veronica and the rest of the Umbrio family.

An attendant guided them to preferred seats with a direct view of the execution platform, spots reserved only for high-ranking families and key Council figures.

The execution was public; however, it wasn’t the kind of event a normal outcast family would travel to attend, not with the dangers of a possible rescue or the heavy atmosphere filled with powerful figures.

As he sat down, Luke noticed several discreet glances being cast in his direction. Xavier and Ajax waved at him from a few meters away, and he returned the greeting.

When the clock struck the exact hour, nearly a hundred outcasts people were gathered in that courtyard. The time had come.

A stone side door opened silently.

The High Judge of the Council made his entrance, walking with firm steps toward the central platform. His ceremonial robe was white. His face was stern, unmoving, like it had been carved from stone.

Behind him, two prisoners were escorted in. Each wore shackles on their wrists and ankles. Beside them marched two hooded executioners, imposing figures radiating restrained psychic energy.

Anna and Jane Spellman.

Their faces no longer held the arrogance they’d shown the first time they encountered Wednesday at the Marlowe estate battle. They looked tired and resigned to their fate, perhaps holding on to a faint hope of escape.

The High Judge stopped at the center of the platform, raised his hand, and the murmuring fell completely silent. His voice rang out loud and clear, “Today, in the presence of representatives of the Council and of outcast families of all ranks, we carry out the sentence imposed on Anna and Jane Spellman for the following charges…”

He unrolled a scroll and began to read, slowly. Crime by crime.

Luke, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, sighed and sent a telepathic message to the chat he shared with Wednesday and Enid.

[Is it just me, or is this guy reading slower than a zombie trying to crawl out of its grave?]

[It’s not just you. I timed him. He takes nine seconds to say each damn crime] replied Wednesday, the first to answer.

[At least his voice is soothing… perfect for falling asleep during an execution] Enid commented.

[Yeah, should we just kill them and get this over with?] Luke suggested.

[As diplomatic as ever. No, you’d only cause trouble. We need to stay alert in case of a rescue attempt] Wednesday replied.

[Do you really think someone’s coming to rescue them?] Enid asked.

It was a reasonable doubt.

They were at the Council’s central headquarters, the safest, most protected place in the entire outcast world. The defenses were supposedly top-tier. Add to that the hundred attendees, including renowned figures like Gomez, Fester, Stalin, Morticia… and Luke.

A frontal assault would be suicide. Even if Edward Spellman showed up with all his ancient members and allies, they probably wouldn’t make it out alive. Unless several people in the audience were traitors, ready to switch sides at the perfect moment.

However, that seemed unlikely.

[I doubt any major players would attack head-on. I think they’ll try a distraction, who knows how many traitors are in the audience or something similar. Not a direct fight] Wednesday responded firmly, her eyes never leaving the platform.

At that moment, the High Judge’s voice boomed with greater force:

“And based on all the evidence presented, the Council declares Anna and Jane Spellman guilty of all charges. The sentence is death.”

There was no applause, no murmuring, only silence.

The two guards/executioners stepped forward, carrying ceremonial weapons: one wielded a scythe, the other a curved sword.

The guards forced the Spellman sisters to their knees. Their heads were tilted forward, precisely positioned over blocks of dark stone. Everything was ready.

The judge raised his hand to give the final order when suddenly, something shifted in the air.

An invisible tremor, a nearly imperceptible wave. The most sensitive among them noticed it immediately, Luke was one of them.

He jerked his head up abruptly. Wednesday and Enid followed suit, reacting to his movement.

The gray sky trembled slightly… then tore open.

As if something unseen was ripping through the fabric of the clouds, a low hum grew into a roar.

And from the sky, creatures began to fall. First one. Then three. Then a dozen.

Falling from impossible altitudes, like meteorites made of flesh and muscle.

Luke, Wednesday, and Enid recognized them instantly: Morraks.

Grotesque, semi-alien beings, about four meters tall, with bulky bodies and shiny, viscous blue skin.

Their glowing red eyes radiated inhuman hatred. Their small mouths were filled with needle-like sharp teeth.

They had long, broad arms ending in black claws. Bulging torsos, hunched posture. And they were falling by the dozens.

The first ones hit the ground with devastating crashes, kicking up dust and cracks. The earth trembled.

’From the sky?’ Luke thought, frowning as he expanded his domain. He saw a massive number still falling, but not from a clearly defined point. That meant they were dropping from thousands of meters up.

One of the Morraks stood, its back cracking as if its bones were grinding. It lunged at the first person it saw: a Council guard.

The guard didn’t hesitate. He activated a partial transformation: his right arm morphing into a hybrid werewolf form: muscular and covered in black fur. He launched a punch straight at the demon’s face.

The Morrak’s face caved in backward. Teeth flew in every direction, and a thick spray of blood splashed the ground. The shockwave from the impact split the ground beneath their feet.

However, despite the obvious gap in strength, the Morrak didn’t die instantly, and something unexpected happened.

The demon began to convulse violently. Its body twisted, shook… and exploded.

It was a powerful detonation, as if it had a bomb inside. The guard’s body was hurled through the air, torn apart, without even having a chance to scream. Fragments of stone, blood, entrails, and smoke spread across the area.

That’s when the chaos truly began.

Other Morraks were already getting up. Some charged on all fours. Others were already ramming into nearby outcast individuals.

“Since when do they explode?” asked Luke, already on his feet, as were Wednesday, Gomez, and the others.

“They must have some kind of demonic curse or who knows,” Wednesday replied vaguely.

It was unusual for demons to act as kamikaze soldiers, but considering the Spellmans had possessed the Demonic Book for many years, they could have developed all sorts of twisted methods.

“Do we have to kill them in one hit so they don’t have a chance to explode?” Enid asked, watching the chaos. Since they were seated in the front row, none of the kamikaze demons had charged at them yet.

“I suppose so, although that’s no easy task,” said Morticia, her gaze and tone serene, standing tall with perfect posture.

While Morraks weren’t a major threat to intermediate-level outcast, that didn’t mean they could be killed instantly with a single blow. Only the strongest could swat them down like flies.

After all, they were still demons with great durability, creatures that had fallen from hundreds of meters and stood up as if nothing had happened.

The guard Luke had seen clearly overpowered the Morrak, but he likely needed one or two more hits to finish it off, he just didn’t have the time.

Luke, attentive, glanced at Morticia. He found it curious how calm she was.

She was the weakest in the group, at least in terms of combat. Her violet aura wasn’t meant for combat. And while her body was stronger than an average human’s, she wouldn’t survive a direct explosion. Maybe she trusted Gomez without question.

“Finally, some action!” Fester shouted with a manic laugh.

His body was enveloped in bluish electricity, and he shot forward like lightning. In less than a second, he was in front of a Morrak rising through the smoke.

The demon barely managed to turn its head before Fester smashed his fist into its face. A massive shockwave accompanied the impact.

The Morrak was stunned. Its neck cracked, and part of its skull caved in. But it didn’t die immediately.

Fester noticed it at once.

“Tch!” he clicked his tongue, and in a split second, delivered a brutal upward kick.

The Morrak’s body was launched into the sky. Half a second later… it exploded.

A fireball burst in the air with a shockwave that shook nearby trees and kicked up dust, but hurt no one.

Fester laughed like he was having the time of his life, “Tough bastards! They trigger the explosion the moment they’re dying! The window is under a second, less! You have to kill them instantly, no time for them to suffer!” he shouted loudly so everyone could hear.

It wasn’t enough to be stronger.

It wasn’t enough to hit harder.

You had to be lethal on the first try.

Luke stopped being a spectator. He raised his hand as if grabbing something invisible. A faint tremor warped the air… and in an instant, Eclipse appeared in his grip.

The hilt fit perfectly between his fingers. Without moving his feet, Luke twisted his wrist slightly, and slashed.

From the black blade, a visible telekinetic wave shot out: a sharp white line tearing through the air at supersonic speed. Just as it reached its target, a Morrak fell from the sky… and was sliced clean in two, like hot butter.

Two blue halves crashed to the ground without even managing a roar or landing.

Wednesday saw it all. She knew that kind of perfect timing was no accident.

Luke had seen that moment before it happened.

Gomez, who until then had been holding back his power, cracked his knuckles. Darkness spread like a thick smoke around him, and gloves made of pure shadow appeared on his hands. He struck the first Morrak with a clean blow to the head, instantly killing it before it could explode.

“Wednesday. Enid. Natasha,” Luke said without looking at them, “Keep an eye on the Spellman sisters. In this chaos, they might try to escape with that teleporting demon.”

Wednesday nodded without arguing. Enid had already moved to the edge of the platform, her instincts alert. Natasha also approached from the opposite side.

While they could beat a Morrak in a fight, they couldn’t kill them instantly, meaning the creatures would explode. So it was best to leave the killing to Luke, Gomez, and Fester.

Then Luke vanished, using Shambles. He reappeared over thirty meters away, directly above three Morraks just getting to their feet. The blade of Eclipse shimmered with condensed telekinetic energy.

Three Morraks were beheaded in a single second, no chance to explode.

Luke moved like a sharp-edged shadow across the battlefield, flying at high speed. His sword, packed with telekinesis weighing tons, killed Morraks instantly. With his clairvoyance, he could see the perfect moment to strike, even as they fell from the sky.

He was a hyper-efficient demon-killing machine. Every strike was instant death. Zero margin for error.

More lethal than all the others, including Gomez, Fester, Stalin, and other powerful marginalized warriors: battle-hardened werewolves, century-old vampires.

All of them were powerful adults with decades of experience.

But Luke, having just turned 17, was already above them all. He wasn’t just strong, he was efficient, unstoppable, and precise. Against an enemy that explodes if not killed immediately, Luke was the perfect answer.

Many of those present were seeing him fight for the first time, and were stunned by the strength he displayed.

Out of all the outcast gathered here, only a few could kill a Morrak instantly. Because of that, Luke, with his efficiency, lethality, and speed, saved many lives.

While slaughtering Morraks left and right, he kept an eye on Anna and Jane Spellman. Not because he didn’t trust Wednesday, Enid, and Natasha, just in case.

The High Judge continued watching the scene, his expression hard and brows furrowed.

At one point, Luke noticed four new shadows falling from the sky. Four Morraks were descending like meteors, aiming straight for the center of the platform, where the judge, the executioners… and the prisoners stood.

Luke was already looking in that direction, tracking the trajectory. He tightened his grip on Eclipse.

“Sixty percent,” he murmured.

And then he struck.

A single slash, but unlike the previous ones. This time, the slash extended like a beam of light and pressure, a brutal crescent that cut through the air in a straight line and shredded all four demons before they could hit the platform.

The shockwave of the attack slammed into the ground. Debris flew, and the air quaked. The creatures’ bodies crashed in different spots across the stage, their entrails and organs exposed.

The High Judge looked down at the remains of the Morraks and made a decision.

He turned toward the executioners and shouted, “Execute the condemned! They cannot be rescued.”

The executioners did not hesitate.

One raised his scythe, the other his curved sword. The blades fell, and the bodies of Anna and Jane Spellman were left headless.

Few actually witnessed their deaths, as the fighting continued, with explosions still erupting here and there.

Thanks to Luke, Gomez, Fester, and other powerful outcasts capable of killing with a precise blow, the explosions were minimal, and the casualties contained.

There were injuries. Some deaths. But it wasn’t a massacre.

It could have been worse. Much worse.

When the last creature fell from the sky, Luke killed it instantly, appearing in front of it with Shambles.

Then, expanding his domain, he looked up. No more Morraks were falling. He approached Enid and Wednesday, his senses still razor sharp.

“That wasn’t a rescue attempt,” Wednesday said.

Luke looked at her, waiting for her to continue.

“It was a message… that even at the Council’s headquarters, we can be attacked,” she added.

The High Judge, who overheard, agreed with her.

It was a show of weakness that such a thing had occurred, and it couldn’t go unpunished.

The Judge, Gomez, and other high-ranking members quickly began giving orders to find even the slightest clue as to how in hell someone had managed to summon Morraks from the sky, directly above the courtyard.

The place had been ravaged by explosions and the counterattacks of the defending marginalized.

And so, the execution of Jane and Anna Spellman ended in success, albeit with a bitter taste, tainted by a terrorist attack.