Epilogue
Two people slumbered in a crystal at the World’s End.
Before that crystal, the Torture Princess awoke.
She stared up at the sky.
In that moment, the Saint’s consciousness rose from the depths of her dream as well. While the Torture Princess slept, the Saint had been in the fabricated world along with her, watching over the events within as the master of the transient castle.
Although the Saint no longer had access to the massive amount of magical power she did when she had contracts with God and Diablo, a certain technique of hers allowed her to tap into bottomless reserves of mana all the same. Furthermore, she had been a peerless mage since before the world’s reconstruction, and all her skills were still intact. Imitating the ability of a decomposing demon was child’s play for her.
Normally, the world that the Saint wove would have lasted a little longer. However, Elisabeth’s malaise had hastened its destruction, forcing it to rebuild itself over and over again until the constant rejection caused it to lose its form for good and shatter completely.
Like a sandcastle, getting struck by progressively larger and larger waves.
And now the child playing in the sand had left the beach entirely.
“The path you’ve chosen is a harsh, solitary one indeed.”
Giving her that dream had been the Saint’s expression of pity. For she knew better than anyone the agony of bearing a foolish world on one’s shoulders. Fighting in solitude ate away at a person’s heart and could even make them forget the things they once thought were beautiful.
Elisabeth Le Fanu had the right to flee before she came to despise everything. Nobody could deny her that.
But the Torture Princess had said, “Yet even so.”
Yet even so.
And as such, there was nothing more for the Saint to say to her.
As Elisabeth glared off into space, the Saint made her move before Elisabeth could spot her.
Garbed in a completely different outfit than the one she had worn long ago, the Saint pulled her hood down over her eyes, then quickly left the ivy-entwined corpses behind. Snowflakes crunched under her feet, and she gazed up at the sky.
Its rainbow film was the same as ever, but far away, declarations of malice, hatred, and violence echoed through the distant sky.
“Then I, too, will go.”
The Torture Princess had chosen to fight, so she, too, had a duty to carry out.
For the people she once cursed—
—and for the things she once discarded—
the Saint herself was going to fight.
And with that, the encounter between the Saint and the Torture Princess—
—came to a quiet end.
It all took place a little while before—
—the final battle of those who loathed the world.
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