Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 3

3

The King’s Resolve

It’s time for a story.

There’s no need to be alarmed. I promise, there’s nothing to be afraid of.

It’s just a little story about a simple equation.

Let’s say we have “someone who was cruelly oppressed” and “someone who gleefully oppressed them.”

The former will never forgive the latter, no matter what they say or do.

There’s no way for them to apologize. Not the slightest chance for atonement.

Given those parameters, there’s a pretty clear answer.

You multiply hate by resentment, then subtract those pesky ethics.

Then once the first party carries out their revenge on the second party, the story comes to an end.

And they all live happily ever after.

But here we add another parameter. One that throws the whole situation into chaos.

The new parameter is as follows.

Let’s say we have “people who did nothing” and “people who knew nothing.”

Let’s say we have a generous, openhearted world that allows the ignorance to persist, saying, These things happen.

Now, how do we solve that one?

It looks tricky, doesn’t it? After all, so many of the perpetrators are innocent. But there’s no need to think that hard. By changing the way you look at the problem, it becomes easy to find the solution.

All you have to do is cut through all the tangled-up strings.

In other words—

—that is what it means to hate the world itself.

“The Capital was attacked by an unidentified group. We request that Elisabeth return from her foreign dispatch at once.”

Runes scrolled rapidly across the white orb’s surface. The message was concise, but unsettling all the same.

Elisabeth turned the communication device in her fingers to double-check she’d gotten it all. There weren’t any specifics—the message must have been written in a hurry. She let out a deep sigh.

“They timed their attacks together, hmm? No surprise there.”

She’d more or less expected the possibility of a coordinated strike. Up until then, their foes had evaded notice from the three races’ joint defenses. There was no way an army could have avoided detection so perfectly.

In all likelihood, the enemy’s numbers were small. It made sense they were able to move so efficiently.

When your targets drop their guard, ’tis best to strike them all at once.

Was it that the past three years’ peace had made them all complacent? Not quite.

After the calamity, the world was met with famine, poverty, ruin, and disease. Law and order eroded, and greater public knowledge of the menace God and Diablo posed gave rise to all sorts of new problems. The scattered remnants of the reconstruction sect began regrouping and gaining power, and demon worshippers began popping up all over the place. However, none of them rose to the level of a serious threat.

In part, it was because nobody paid them that much heed.

People had the power in them to create hells. But at the end of the day, man-made hells paled in comparison with the real thing. The hells demons made were beyond fathoming.

During the end of days, everyone experienced that fact firsthand. It took a lot to shock people now.

As a result, the three races devoted themselves wholly to their reconstruction efforts. And the peace they now enjoyed was the fruit of that labor.

No one had even considered that an enemy other than a demon might rise up.

In fact, not even Elisabeth had predicted the Fremd Torturchen’s arrival.

“Hmm… Between the summons itself and the paucity of information, ’twould seem that time is of the essence. Now then.”

Elisabeth ruminated as she rotated the orb. She had to make a choice.

As the Torture Princess, should she return to the humans? Or should she stay with the beastfolk?

Her execution had been delayed indefinitely, but she still belonged to the Church. By all rights, she should have been helping out with the restoration efforts in the Capital. However, that would have earned no small amount of backlash from the paladins.

As a result, she’d come to the beastfolk lands on Vyade’s suggestion to work with the Peace Brigade.

She owed a debt to the two late imperial beastfolk princesses. On the other hand, she had a number of acquaintances in the Capital. But neither of those factors constituted a legitimate reason. If what they were going up against was on par with the end of days, then there was no room for personal feelings in her calculations.

We’ve naught but guesses and speculation as to the enemy’s numbers or nature…but I wager that those two were integral to their plans. If there are many more with power like theirs, our chances of victory are slim to none. They struck at Vyade’s residence. In short…

In short, the World Tree likely hadn’t been raided. The home of the Three Kings of the Forest was easy to defend and hard to attack. It didn’t matter what kind of forces the enemy possessed—if their goal was total subjugation, then they’d want to avoid losing troops on high-risk endeavors. In other words, the Fremd Torturchen and the man in black had chosen to prioritize the attack on the sisters’ residence.

But why? As Elisabeth racked her brain, Alice’s voice echoed in her ears.

“We wanted to talk to you! Because I think we can understand each other, see?”

“I promise, you’ll be able to meet with the people you care about!”

Bite your tongue, fool.

Elisabeth responded with a silent epithet as an image drifted to the forefront of her mind.

Two people, sleeping inside a translucent crystal. It was a beautiful sight—but nothing more.

She could speak to them, but they wouldn’t respond. She could extend her hand to them, but her fingers would never reach.

Did she want to meet with them? There could be but one answer.

One single answer.

One that had never changed.

And one that never would.

But you lot made a fatal mistake.

Elisabeth clicked her tongue. If their plan was to try to entice her with prospects of a reunion, slaughtering the beastfolk was a poor way to lead into it. The boy in question would never accept a reunion forged atop a mountain of corpses. At worst, he might even return to his slumber on purpose. Back during the end of days, when he was forced to choose between the world and the person he cared about most, he chose instead to balance the scales by sacrificing himself. That was just the kind of person he was.

That was the kind of person her dim-witted servant was.

He truly is a peerless fool… But I suppose that hardly matters right now.

Elisabeth shook her head to get her thoughts back on track, then frowned in confusion.

The two assailants had referred to her as “someone important for them to talk to.” But while it was true that a Torture Princess was a valuable piece to have on one’s side, there was no particular reason it had to be Elisabeth. Given that the man in black had created a Torture Princess of his own, the reason for his fixation on her remained a mystery.

Pondering the matter likely won’t get me anywhere.

Elisabeth moved on to another consideration. She decided to trust her earlier hypothesis and assume that the World Tree was safe.

For one, aside from Vyade and Valisisa—the Wise Wolf and the Dynast—none of the other members of the imperial family were particularly impressive. To put it bluntly, they didn’t make for the juiciest targets.

On the other hand, while the Capital—and particularly the newly established royal residence—certainly wasn’t easy to attack, its defenses were nothing compared with the World Tree’s. Their greatest weapons, the saints, were spread across the land protecting refugees, and on top of that, most of them were basically living cannons. They were powerful, true, but they were weak against surprise attacks, not very smart, and only able to operate for short periods at a time. Their current jobs revolved primarily around the emotional support their presence provided to the faithful. The Capital’s defense was left primarily to the paladins and Royal Knights, but they had their hands full putting down the reconstruction sect. And most of the mages who fought in Ragnarok, aside from the few who were making good on their contracts, had left on a journey to establish a new workshop. Compared with the beastfolk, the humans were probably in much more danger.

After all, the human race was no stranger to blind spots. They were the ones who’d unwittingly fostered those who’d tried to bring about the end of days.

“Very well, then. The choice is made.”

The communication device slowly spun to a stop.

Elisabeth popped it into the air, then threw it off into the distance. It soared out through the lattice-free window. The sound of its wings regrowing and an angry voice expressing its objections filled the air.

Elisabeth ignored both, instead turning toward Lute.

“I’ve thought it through.”

“I see.”

“’Tis unlikely the beastfolk lands have suffered any greater attacks than this. As such, I entrust you with confirming the imperial family’s status and informing them that we have lost the first and second imperial princesses, in addition to a great number of valuable lives. As for me, I’m departing for the human lands. Now, the Peace Brigade is predominantly composed of Ragnarok survivors from the second squad of Vyade’s private army… Your skills are true, but your numbers are lacking. Take no unnecessary risks. Should an emergency arise, call for me. And receive help from the World Tree’s guard squad where you can get it. Then once our grasp on the situation is firmer, we’ll rendezvous. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He was still probably shaken up about the imperial princesses’ deaths, but the moment his captain informed him that she was splitting off, Lute nodded without hesitation. Elisabeth narrowed her eyes to check if he was sure. He responded to her gaze with a salute.

“You’re our captain, Madam Elisabeth, entrusted to Lady Vyade Ula Forstlast by mankind. But you’re also this world’s proud sword. If a crisis on par with the end of days is upon us, then it is your duty to defend humanity, too… Back then, if not for our three races’ squabbling, there would likely have been far fewer victims. We should have been able to do something before Sir Kaito was forced to make the decision for us.”

His final words were tinged with pain and regret. Elisabeth thought back.

At the World’s End, right after Kaito descended into slumber, Lute had grieved the most of anyone. “I promised myself I wouldn’t forget,” he’d repeated over and over.

No one had known what he’d meant by that, but it was clear that he never wanted to regret shirking his duty ever again. Choosing not to ask him about the specifics, Elisabeth nodded.

“If you’ve no objections, I’ll be off. I leave the rest to you.”

“Then I wish you luck. And may the blessings of the Three Kings of the Forest be with you.”

The rest of the beastfolk followed Lute’s example. They probably all had their doubts, but no one voiced them.

Elisabeth frowned. She still couldn’t get used to dealing with her men’s deep loyalty and simple honesty. She’d never been fit to lead in the first place, and to be frank, she shared their misgivings.

To overlook a tragedy’s beginning is to be blind as to how it will unfold.

The end of days, the great calamity that had befallen the three races, had been the end result of a long series of smaller tragedies. And the silver vines filling up the audience chamber were undoubtedly there because of the seeds of evil that had been sown long hence.

They needed to pull them up by the roots before it came time for harvest and the flowers within bloomed.

Lest this time, we truly perish.

The situation was unclear in every respect, yet a part of Elisabeth knew that if they did not address the matter appropriately, there would be no coming back from the fallout. Once, a stupid, simple love had saved the world. If someone had come to destroy it, then they were undoubtedly driven by the opposite emotion. And between their earnest voices and their tearless eyes, one thing about the Fremd Torturchen and the man in black was clear.

The two of them possessed that quality.

For those who’ve sustained such bitter wounds—

Elisabeth cut herself off midthought. Spinning theories based on emotion could come later.

It was time for action. Elisabeth drew a jewel out from within an eddy of darkness and flower petals. It was a magical device she’d created by taking a gem already rich in mana, carving spells, and pouring blood into it. She tossed it into the air.

It spun as it fell, then let out a loud kshhhh.

The moment it did, there was a torrent of black and red, and a teleportation circle manifested at Elisabeth’s feet. A cylindrical wall of blood rose up around her, filling her vision with crimson.

Eventually, the wall cracked. Elisabeth closed her eyes.

Then as the crimson shattered, she opened them.

She was standing in a wide passageway. Although it wouldn’t be obvious to someone with only a shallow knowledge of magic, the passageway was actually constructed out of a combination of several rare minerals. The blood and the melted jewel spun in a circle at her feet.

Suddenly, she heard a chorus of loud voices. Normally it was silent in this area, but now there was quite a commotion. People were shouting in every direction and passing by to and fro. Paladins rushed past her. A female official tripped, dropping the documents she was holding all over the floor. Perhaps they’d already been informed that the Torture Princess was coming, or perhaps they had bigger fish to fry, but nobody paid her a second glance.

It was an unexpected reception, and an unusual spectacle altogether. Elisabeth crossed her arms.

“Hmm, ’tis rather lively indeed… For all their fluster, though, ’twould seem the worst has failed to pass. I suppose I should take that as a blessing, but I would still prefer it were not so damned noisy in here!”

She looked around in annoyance but soon realized her protests were in vain. For one, a large part of the clamor was due to how resonant the walls’ material was. The place hadn’t exactly been built with noise abatement in mind.

After all, the building Elisabeth had teleported to was underground.

She was standing in the human king’s new residence, the ill-omened cradle that had once housed the First Demon.

The royal family’s ancestral graveyard.

The king was living in a tomb. And the tomb the Church had used to hide the First Demon, no less.

It might have passed muster as a sick joke if it weren’t in quite such poor taste.

However, there was a good reason for why the Church had chosen the graveyard.

As Kaito Sena had once pointed out, the Capital had suffered severe damage.

Repairing and replacing buildings was expensive. But while their labor and material shortages went without saying, dealing with all the corpses had been their biggest struggle of all.

After deeming it impossible to store the colossal number of unidentified bodies long-term, they’d cremated them. Despite that, an epidemic had still started near the section of the capital that was submerged underwater, then spread from there. Thanks to the warning Kaito Sena and Hina had left them, their prompt sterilization and their efforts to maintain good hygiene had allowed them to nip the disease in the bud. But some people still took it as a sign that restoring the Capital would be too difficult and began petitioning to relocate it in its entirety.

However, there was one fatal flaw in that plan that made it impossible to carry out.

The frank truth was that it was a matter of cost.

Being broke was an extremely worldly problem to have, but it was a grave one nonetheless.

They turned to the aristocrats, the Church, and the mercantile guilds for help, but they were met with harsh criticism each time.

As was rightly pointed out, many people—faithful or not—had responded to the tremendous damage from the repeated demon attacks by endorsing the reconstruction sect’s particular brand of “salvation.”

As a result, the Capital found itself forced to remain put.

Their boon was the beastfolk’s offer of temporary lodgings, technical assistance, and food in exchange for deploying some mages to their lands. From a national-security standpoint, though, having the king stay in that temporary housing wasn’t an option. And having the royal family and key aristocrats living away from the Capital would give rise to a whole host of issues. But given their financial situation, it didn’t look like they had much of a choice.

Then after countless meetings, someone proposed using the royal graveyard.

It was a last-ditch Hail Mary borne out of sheer desperation.

However, a cursory investigation revealed that this insane proposition might not be so insane after all.

While its barrier was broken and it certainly didn’t hold a candle to the World Tree, the underground tomb was surprisingly easy to defend.

In fact, while the Faithful King—mankind’s third king, and the one who’d given the Grave Keeper her authority—had concealed the documents asserting as such, they also learned that the graveyard had originally been designed to serve double duty as an emergency shelter for the royal family.

Then they discovered and unsealed the tomb’s myriad escape routes, functional bedrooms, and spirit-powered cistern and water supply. While it was a problem that the material the building was constructed from prevented teleportation, they were able to catch the mages before they left and have them work together with the saints to analyze it. After a long series of heated arguments between the two groups, they successfully set up a number of spots where teleportation was possible.

At that point, the only problem left was what to do with the old kings’ bodies.

However, they’d just forcibly cremated piles and piles and piles of commoners, and the shock of it all had shifted their ethics regarding corpses. As far as they were concerned, the dead were all the same, royalty be damned.

And thus, they cleaned out the mausoleums and moved all the bodies.

After sealing up the Room of Pain, which the First Demon had been kept in, they installed an altar in front of it and placed the coffins in a row atop it. They then closed off the graveyard’s lowest floor, with an exception made for royalty coming down to pay their respects, and moved into the upper floors in earnest. No shortage of people reported seeing a displeased-looking ghost of the third king, but in Elisabeth’s view, such reports were utterly beneath her interest.

At the moment, her sole concern was meeting up with the communication device’s sender.

“Now then… Where in all this clamor might I find the one who called for the Torture Princess?”

“Madam Elisabeth!”

The moment she made to stride off, though, she heard a dignified voice call out to her from behind.

Elisabeth turned and glanced through the throng.

The first thing she saw was a beautiful head of silver hair. Shortly thereafter, though, it was followed by a number of peculiarities.

The paladin’s pale cheeks had gears spinning in them, and various parts of her body had been supplemented with strange pieces of metal. Her tied-up silver hair fluttered as she walked over to Elisabeth.

“Thank goodness, you responded to our summons.”

“You called, Izabella, so here I am.”

Elisabeth replied dispassionately, and the woman gave her a smile. It was stiff due to the metal plates, but gentle nonetheless. Elisabeth responded by raising the corner of her mouth ever so slightly.

The woman’s name was Izabella Vicker.

She was the leader of the paladins, and she’d fought alongside Kaito Sena during Ragnarok. Thanks to her fusion with Deus Ex Machina, her appearance hadn’t changed much over the past three years.

However, the white-lily coat of arms on her armor was stained black with blood.

“I see… From the state of your armor, I take it the news of the Capital being attacked was true.”

“Indeed. We wouldn’t call for you as a mere prank. Still, you did well to respond to such a vague summons. Once more, you have my thanks.”

“So why in the blazes was it so vague?”

“Several of the civil officials panicked, and the one in charge of communications sent the dispatch without waiting for my go-ahead. I’m sure you found the hasty missive alarming, and for that, I am sorry.”

Elisabeth nodded in understanding as Izabella apologized. It certainly seemed like enough of a situation had arisen to cause such a panic. However, she then planted her hands on her hips.

“So is time of the essence, or is it not? If it isn’t, I ask that you let me return to my squad. I may not be fit to serve as a captain, but I took the role, so I intend to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability.”

“Unfortunately, it very much is. This way.”

As Elisabeth followed Izabella through the underground graveyard, she glanced around the corridor.

The place looked completely different than it had three years ago, when she’d come to learn the truth of the world. The Capital residents had taken full advantage of the mausoleums’ original construction to turn them into living quarters and offices, and for better or for worse, none of the tomb’s original solemnity and sanctity remained.

For one, much of the building was decorated with plants they’d gotten as gifts from the beastfolk. The glowing moss, flowers, and wind-current-producing leaves both ventilated the graveyard and regulated its light and humidity. These amenities helped reduce the sense of claustrophobia immensely.

As Izabella and Elisabeth went through the passageway, they passed by people of all sorts and statuses. There were young maids strolling adorably, dukes and ladies walking annoyedly, and paladins marching with wide strides. Due to the way the tomb was laid out, it was impossible to fully segregate the rooms for people with different roles. They were making do with what they had. Thanks to that, people of all social classes were forced to mingle.

It was an odd sight to see in the Capital, and a fairly amusing one at that.

And I imagine the current commotion is only making things messier.

As that idle thought crossed her mind, Elisabeth continued descending the seemingly endless stairs.

Originally, even the paladins had been lied to and told the tomb only had five floors. Because of that, the sixth floor had no mausoleum, which meant they could use its full space as they pleased. At the moment, several rooms designed for specific purposes had been built inside it.

Izabella approached one of them, then knocked on its conspicuously plain door and spoke.

“It’s me. I’ve brought Madam Elisabeth.”

“Oh? I hadn’t expected you to get here so quickly, little lady. I figured you were fucking off in the sunshine like a retired watchdog, but I guess I was wrong.”

She was met with a strange tone. Elisabeth would have almost considered it nostalgic if not for how tired she’d grown of it.

Izabella opened the door, and Elisabeth followed her in. The walls inside were piled high with shelves full of documents, and the room’s floor was bare, with no carpet or rug covering up the rare minerals it was made from. All in all, it was extremely cramped. It looked more like a storehouse than a proper room, and the pièce de résistance was the boorish stone desk plopped right in the center.

The person who’d spoken so rudely was standing before it.

In contrast to her tone, she was an adorable girl with doll-like features. Her hair was honey-blond, her eyes were like rosy jewels, and her skin was as white as porcelain. She was wearing a bondage dress, although it only qualified as “clothes” in the very loosest sense of the word. It was exactly who Elisabeth had been expecting. The girl’s expression didn’t change in the slightest as she welcomed Elisabeth.

“Greetings and salutations, little lady. They say, I’ll see you in Hell, and whaddaya know, here we are.”

Waiting for her was Jeanne de Rais, the golden Torture Princess.

Hmph.

For a reunion, it wasn’t a particularly nostalgic one. Elisabeth and Jeanne had seen quite a lot of each other over the past three years. Now that Elisabeth was looking at her head-on, though, she was once more reminded of a certain fact.

Jeanne had grown a little.

Her shapely limbs were now even longer, and when she stood still, she could have passed for a piece of fine art in a museum. Compared with other girls her age, though, she was growing up rather slowly. As long as they didn’t get as old as Godd Deos had, skilled mages could more or less stop their aging at will. It was unclear why, but Jeanne was choosing to have her body develop slowly.

Unlike her physical development, however, her sharp tongue hadn’t been dulled in the slightest.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been staring quite intently at me for some time. We last met not that long ago, remember? Didja hit your head or somethin’?”

“Aye, true, that we did. But who would’ve thought the situation would grow so incomprehensible in just those few short hours? Not I, certainly.”

“Oh, I very much agree. Having the Capital come under attack right after I returned caught me rather off guard. Like, fuck that, man! Feels like I’m livin’ in a bad play. The script is shit! This writer’s a hack!”

This time, Jeanne gave a reasonably frank nod.

Earlier, when night had yet to fall completely, she’d been over in the beastfolk lands herself. Incidentally, she’d come because she’d been worried about her relationship with Izabella. Then after rambling on mostly one-sidedly, she’d returned to the Capital.

The tragedy with Vyade had occurred almost immediately thereafter. In other words, the attack on the Capital must have gone down at the exact same time. If Jeanne had stayed even a little bit longer, she’d have ended up facing off against the man in black.

The golden Torture Princess’s honey-blond hair swished as she shrugged.

“The Capital’s been peaceful these past three years. Our enemies must be quite proficient, not to have tipped their hands even once. I figure shit got crazy on your end, too. What’s the sitch?”

“Your intuition is correct. Izabella. You ought to hear this, too. I have grave tidings… No, wait, before that.”

Nothing was more important than giving her report about the imperial princesses’ deaths. But even though she knew that, Elisabeth cut herself off anyway. She strode briskly over to the desk and glared at what was sitting atop it.

“What is this?”

The “this” in question resembled a baby. However, it also looked like just a plain old lump of meat, or perhaps a sculpture made out of clay. While it was clearly some sort of corpse, it was also difficult to imagine it ever having been alive.

Jeanne, her back to the horrifying, loathsome object, replied flatly.

“You should know better than anyone, shouldn’t you, lady? Hell, don’t tell me ya forgot already! You merc’d one of these fuckers yourself!”

It was true—Elisabeth did recognize it.

She’d seen one herself, back before the end of days when the Monarch, the Grand Monarch, and the King merged into a single mass of flesh and swallowed up the Capital. At the end of that battle, she and Kaito had had to face off against the exact same creature inside the fleshy monstrosity.

They’d faced off against a grotesque, ashen baby.

“A demon child, eh?”

The King and the Grand Monarch’s contractors had been a man and a woman. When their bodies broke down and melded together, it had served as a sort of pseudointercourse and given birth to a horrible child—the child of two demons.

True, the two bear a striking resemblance.

Elisabeth glanced over at the horrid creature. The thing in front of her looked almost identical to the baby she’d fought. They both had the same broad, winglike shoulder blades. However, Elisabeth felt as though something was out of place.

“’Tis a good deal smaller than the one I fought, though. And the one from back then vanished corporeally upon death, as all demons do. What makes this one different?”

“You’re absolutely right, Elisabeth—most of the demon children that attacked us disintegrated on death. However, through a miraculous stroke of fortune, we were able to capture this one in a comatose state and preserve it.

“A few days ago, we raided a demon-worshipper temple and apprehended a mage who’d been researching how to preserve underling corpses. We were able to preserve this baby using information and techniques from his documents. Perversion’s the mother of invention, baby! It doesn’t take a genius to guess what the fucker was doin’ with all those underling corpses in his bedroom, I tell you what!”

Jeanne made no effort to mince her words. Izabella’s eyes went wide, visibly flustered.

As the skin visible beneath the metal plates on her face flushed scarlet, she let out an affected cough.

“A-ahem. Now, Jeanne, I understand that the circumstances of your upbringing make it difficult to change that tone of yours. I really do. But as I’ve asked you time and again, could you please try to keep the vulgarity to a minimum? A charming young lady like yourself shouldn’t be saying such vile things.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be quiet.”

“Oh?”

Jeanne snapped her mouth shut—a most irregular occurrence, given her usual arrogance and brashness.

Elisabeth rubbed her eyes at how unexpected the exchange she’d just witnessed had been. As she did, Jeanne straightened her back, as silent as a model pupil. Elisabeth couldn’t help but ask:

“So how long has, um…this relationship dynamic between the two of you been a thing?”

“You’re being boorish, little lady. We’re in the middle of a crisis right now, so we should do our best to avoid frivolous conversational detours. Now, the problem is that we were attacked by several of these things. I mean, they were poppin’ up like the damn flies from when we couldn’t get rid of all them corpses!”

“I’m sorry, Jeanne, but could you please try to avoid making light of the situation as well?”

“I’ll be quiet.”

Jeanne snapped her mouth shut. Is that how you intend to dodge the question?! Elisabeth thought indignantly. However, Jeanne’s evasive words had a degree of truth to them. She was right—now wasn’t the time for that.

Elisabeth focused and turned to Izabella.

“I wager the babies didn’t act alone. Did they have a handler?”

“They did; they were led by a single mage… No, we don’t even know that for sure. We can’t make any assumptions. However, they did have some sort of leader.”

“You don’t know? That is to say, you failed to capture the handler? Surely you recovered a body, at least? With you and Jeanne together, I find it hard to imagine they escaped.”

“You’re right, they didn’t escape…but there was also no body.”

“What?”

Elisabeth narrowed her gaze in confusion.

Izabella frowned as she recalled the event. Her next words came out hesitantly.

“Ever since the end of days, people have been absolutely terrified of demons. So when the attack happened, everyone flew into a panic. Things almost turned ugly, but Jeanne and I managed to turn the tide. But the moment the handler saw that things weren’t going their way, they took their own life. And to make matters worse, the demon babies ate their corpse. There wasn’t so much as a shard of bone left afterward.”

“Everything that might have helped identify them got completely devoured. It was all very purposeful on their part, but still, I’m surprised. Purposeful or not, you gotta be fucking crazy to pull a stunt like that!”

“Was there anything distinctive about their appearance? Do you even know what race they were?”

“They were wearing a jester mask and a dark outfit. We don’t even know what they looked like.”

“…A mask and a dark outfit?”

Elisabeth went quiet and thought.

There was no way that could be a coincidence. The Capital’s attacker must have been from the same group as the man in black with the half-crow mask. And the fact that the man in black was probably the only person in the world who’d noticed the significance of demon crossbreeding only served as further proof of that.

“I summoned a pair of weaker demons into a man and a woman, then destroyed both their egos. They had two children. Then I bred the children together. By repeating that process, it was possible to create a pure, powerful demon. Eventually, I created a demon powerful enough to meet my needs.”

She thought back over what he’d said. Instead of “demon children,” perhaps it would be more apt to call the Capital’s attackers “demon grandchildren,” the failed by-products of the man’s iterative quest for sufficient power. That explained why their bodies were so small and weak.

Satisfied, Elisabeth spoke again.

“I’ve a decent grasp on the situation now. I believe I have information that may shed light on the attack.”

“Are you serious?”

“Indeed. But first, I have grave tidings.”

Suddenly, the three of them heard a muffled voice through the door.

“The first and second imperial beastfolk princesses, Valisisa Ula Forstlast and Vyade Ula Forstlast, were murdered… Does that about sum it up?”

Elisabeth turned around to see who it was.

As the door slowly swung open, the voice went on.

“The World Tree just sent word of the sad news. It really is a tragic loss.”

A young man with a freckled face came in. He was dressed all in finery, from his extravagant standing collar down to his silk loafers, and he carried himself suitably. However, his simple facial features were more the sort one would expect to see on a clerk in some quiet village’s bookstore.

Elisabeth frowned. For some reason, she felt like she recognized him, but he must not have left much of an impression.

“Hmm, I can’t seem to recall who you are… Name thyself.”

“Your Majesty, you needn’t have forced yourself to come all the way down here!”

“Your Majesty?”

Elisabeth let out a shocked cry. Izabella knelt. Jeanne initially offered no reaction, but after Izabella shot a glare at her, she hurriedly dropped to one knee as well. The young man raised a hand, gesturing for them to stop.

“All is well. At ease… That goes for you, too, Izabella Vicker. It’s been some time since we’ve met in person, but I heard of your deeds earlier. Fine work, as always.”

“You honor me, sir. But…if I may be so bold, what brings you down here?”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the child who spent the end of days cowering in the World Tree and refused to come out until after things were all settled. Found yourself a backbone yet?”

Elisabeth crossed her arms. The skin beneath Izabella’s metal plates went pale at the spiteful remark.

During the end of days, Elisabeth had served as Diablo’s pillar. She was in no position to judge anyone, nor did she really intend to. But the king was the one individual she couldn’t help but lambaste.

He had made the choice to leave everything to the Mad King, Kaito Sena, and flee to the World Tree. If things had gone a little worse, his actions would have led directly to mankind’s annihilation. Then after leaving the safety of his people and country up to Kaito’s goodwill, he’d hidden away until it was all over.

Upon seeing that Elisabeth had no intention of retracting her statement, Izabella shouted in indignation.

“Madam Elisabeth, show some respect!”

“No, no. She has the decency to say it to my face, which is as much as I can ask for. I know full well what my subjects—even my retainers—call me behind closed doors. ‘The Craven King.’ ‘The Royal Family’s Stain.’ ‘The Yellow-Bellied Frog.’ That’s me. Maclaeus Filliana, in the flesh. The man who fled his country and the worst king in our nation’s history.”

The young man spoke firmly, but he wasn’t being combative. He was simply acknowledging his ignoble past—which was surprising, given how truly pathetic it had been. Elisabeth raised an eyebrow.

Seeing her reaction, the young king couldn’t help but grin.

“There’s really no need to be so suspicious. It took me a while, but I finally learned how to face my flaws. People really can change, no matter how pathetic they once were. All they need is a trigger.”

“Oh?”

“For me, it was finding a hero I admired.”

A hero? Who could that possibly be?

Elisabeth scrunched up her face in thought. Surely, there was no one in the world powerful or benevolent enough to warrant the title.

If heroes existed, Kaito wouldn’t have had to become the Mad King. Before she could ask Maclaeus to clarify, though, he stepped forward. After reaching out and touching the corpse of the demon grandchild, he gave a short speech about the sin it had committed and the people it had hurt, then finished with a prayer. Afterward, he turned back to Elisabeth.

“Let’s talk, Elisabeth Le Fanu. That’s what I came down here to do. The Capital, as well as my dear friends the beastfolk, have come under attack by a new threat. Now then…”

Maclaeus paused to take a deep breath before finishing his question.

His tone was that of a man thinking of a hero he’d caught a glimpse of long, long ago.

“…what would Sir Kaito Sena do, if faced with this crisis?”

It happened just a short three years ago, but it felt like it had been a century.

“After I returned to the Capital, I researched Sir Kaito Sena in some detail. I’ll be honest with you—my goal was to find some sort of flaw in mankind’s savior, the Mad King.”

Maclaeus spoke as though giving a confession. He closed his dull-green eyes partway.

Even without his elaboration, Elisabeth could have guessed at his impure motives. After the end of days was averted, Maclaeus no doubt came to a harsh realization. False, twisted stories about a savior earned far more praise than the real thing ever could. And there was no glory to be had for a king who had deserted his people. Unofficial rumors about the Mad King spread like wildfire among the populace, to the point where they were still being echoed in fervent whispers to that very day. For that was simply how rumors were.

But to the young figurehead of a king, that harsh reality was too much to take. And so he began his investigation.

If he wanted to protect his own pride, he needed to be able to look down on Kaito Sena. But things didn’t quite play out that way.

“The more I researched, the more I was struck by my own ignorance. Even as the reconstruction sect solidified their positions around me, I was blind to the Church’s insanity until the end of days actually came. But it was the next thing I discovered that truly filled me with despair. The man who stood atop that round table, the man who determined the fate of the world, was no man at all. He was just a boy, younger than even me. When I learned about Kaito Sena’s age, I finally ran out of excuses. He saved the world, while I ran away. And nothing I did could ever change that.”

Upon learning who Kaito really was, Maclaeus had lost yet again.

He shook his head in resignation. Elisabeth remained silent.

It was only natural for an incompetent king to be scorned. The powerful had the ability to tyrannize others, but so, too, could they be mocked and, if they were unfortunate, even executed by those they ruled. With how far Maclaeus’s position had sunk, the wise choice for him would probably have been either to shut himself away or to abandon his shame and take the offensive. But he wasn’t finished talking yet.

“Two imperial princesses lost their lives to this disaster, and I suspect I may be in danger as well. In fact, I’m sure of it…but…I-I’ve spent my whole life running away. This time…”

Maclaeus’s voice trembled with fear. He seemed almost to be talking to himself. He tightly squeezed his eyes shut. But then as though he’d shaken something off, he opened them back up.

“This time, I’m going to stay in the Capital and handle the disaster from here. As the Craven King, the only reason I avoided impeachment was because the three races were all too busy with the restoration efforts to waste time on me. But if I screw up this time, they’ll oust me from the throne for sure.”

“So the useless incompetent is obsessed with his own status? How utterly pathetic.”

“You think I give a damn about my status?! If I could get away with it, I’d love nothing more than to abdicate the throne and retire in peace…”

This time, Maclaeus reacted to Elisabeth’s ridicule with a shout. The moment the words left his mouth, though, his face went stiff. His expression frozen, he turned to Izabella. However, she merely shook her head, pretending she’d heard nothing.

Elisabeth shot him a glance. Why fight so hard to keep it, then? Maclaeus gave his answer.

“After the Church lost its authority, my advisers began leaving in droves without even giving notice. At this point, the Church’s support means nothing. But without a strong organization backing someone, the issue of who’ll take the throne next will cause no end of conflict. There are several people I can imagine ignoring my designated successor and trying to name themselves king instead, and it’s a delightful bunch of racial purists, closet reconstruction-sect supporters, and warmongers who think we should prioritize strengthening our army over rebuilding our nation. And even if they weren’t like this, mankind doesn’t have the strength to survive a succession dispute anyway.”

Maclaeus clamped his hand down on his chest. It seemed the pressure of it all filled him with nausea.

After steadying his breathing, he went on.

“However, there are some roles only a buffoon can play. I may be little more than a crowned jester sitting on the throne, but for now, that’s enough. My job is to serve as a ‘heavy butt.’ And I am prepared to fight to fulfill that role.”

—As Sir Kaito Sena did to fulfill his.

Death is oblivion. But it isn’t the end.

Suddenly, Elisabeth was reminded of something. Even if someone died, as long as the world was still there, a part of them lived on. People’s lives were short, but their accomplishments outlived them.

Now, Kaito Sena wasn’t technically dead. Given his current state, however, it was hard to say he was alive, either. So even though his life hadn’t ended, he was, in a sense, “dead.” Yet still, traces of his life remained etched into the world. And it would seem the painful way he’d lived his life had influenced a most unexpected individual. Maclaeus’s reverence toward Kaito was the real deal.

A painful tinge of nostalgia struck Elisabeth as she ruminated on something he’d once said.

“For your sake, I could do or become anything.”

His confession had been incorrigible, foolish, one-sided, and horribly arrogant—but it had been beautiful, too.

There came times when people admired beings who defied morals and revered individuals who weren’t heroes. It was baffling. But those childish emotions had the power to bring about change.

For example, they could even save the world.

What now, Kaito? ’Twould seem you count a king among your admirers.

Elisabeth, still silent, posed a question to the “dead.” If Kaito were present, he’d probably have given her a bewildered look and replied, …But why? She grinned faintly upon imagining his reaction but quickly wiped the expression off her face.

Then Elisabeth Le Fanu calmly opened her mouth.

“Your resolve means little to me. All I care for are results. But know this—”

The king’s determination might well lead to deeds that could mend his tarnished reputation. However, there was also the danger that it would destroy him from within. The Torture Princess had no intention of weighing in on that matter, but when she went on, her voice was tinged with annoyance.

“—Kaito Sena was my dim-witted servant. He was a servant—not a king. If you wish to admire that self-proclaimed Mad King of a dunce, then such is your prerogative. But you would do well to quit puzzling over what he’d think or how he’d act. You are the king. If you’re finally aware of that fact, then act the part and make decisions for yourself. If you’ve cast off your right to flee and decided to take up the crown, then live as the arrogant, honest slave you are and rule. For that is what it means to be king.”

After delivering her statement out in a single breath, Elisabeth closed her eyes and thought of Vyade.

Vyade had acted as an imperial princess to the bitter end, stifling her fear of death so as to maintain her pride. It was unclear if that decision had truly been a blessing for her. From the perspective of an observer, the act of killing off part of one’s heart seemed both foolish and tragic. But so, too, did it reveal a tenacity worthy of praise.

Folly seen through becomes conviction. ’Tis impossible to fault her decision.

Once you made that choice, you had to rise up. Otherwise, you would merely crumble. But to be anything other than regal would be unforgivable.

Elisabeth lowered her voice.

“Make no mistake; you are the king. Not a jester. And nothing anyone says can change that fact.”

“I…”

“But never rely on admiration for another. The masses will string people up, and even God can kill. Let pride be your sole nourishment. I have the power to carry out my will. Grind that thought into your brain. And no matter what the world throws at you, never lose sight of that which is inside you—elsewise, you shall remain the half-wit swine you are for the rest of your days.”

Silence descended on them. Elisabeth clicked her tongue, half-annoyed at herself for going into such detail. Izabella gesticulated frantically at the string of abusive remarks. Maclaeus, on the other hand, merely blinked as he curled the corners of his mouth upward.

“Thank you for being so frank—it would seem I still have a lot to reflect on.”

“Ha. The fact that you failed to immediately cast me in a dungeon for my remarks is proof enough of that, fool.”

“That’s true. When it comes to lèse-majesté, you certainly don’t hold back.”

Maclaeus nodded in agreement, causing Izabella’s gesticulations to increase in intensity. In contrast to his words, though, he continued smiling.

Elisabeth scratched her cheek as a mixed expression crossed her face. With a shake of her head, she snapped her fingers, causing a pair of a cabriole-legged chairs to manifest out of darkness and flower petals. She picked one and plopped herself down in it.

Then she crossed her shapely legs up high.

“Never mind that, though! I’ve news, so listen well.”

Maclaeus nodded and sat down in the other chair. Jeanne summoned a pair of simple chairs of her own, and she and Izabella took a seat as well. They sat at quiet attention. Elisabeth nodded.

“There’s several key facts, most of which shall no doubt sound like crude jokes.”

Then she began telling them.

About Alice Carroll, the Fremd Torturchen, and about the man in the crow mask.

“—Then I received word via the communication device and came to the human lands.”

Elisabeth finished recounting her short, dramatic tale.

It really had been a peculiar turn of events. Taken in aggregate, there could be no doubt it was a tragedy, but the individual aspects each seemed more like a comedy. And furthermore, they all felt surreal. It had been miserably vivid, yet at the same time, ludicrously ambiguous.

When he heard the specifics of the imperial princesses’ deaths, Maclaeus bit his lip. A sorrowful look appeared on Izabella’s face. Jeanne crossed her legs, exposing an alarming amount of her crotch. Her honey-blond hair rustled as she shrugged.

“The importance of those who’ve reincarnated and demon meat, revolutionizing the world, demon crossbreeding, the Fremd Torturchen… I see. It would seem there was some carelessness regarding information leaks during the end of days. But hey, why’s that jackass gotta zero in on all the nasty bits?!”

“Indeed, and all bits no normal man would even notice, to boot.”

“I know he’s our enemy, but I can’t help but be a little impressed. No one knows jewel prices like a burglar, huh?”

Jeanne’s doll-like expression didn’t change in the slightest as she spoke. Elisabeth nodded.

The gears in Izabella’s cheek spun quickly, and she spoke in a tense voice.

“Revolutionizing the world? I don’t fancy the sound of that one bit. Do those people really intend to continue causing these tragedies? We need to figure out their plan so we can adjust the Capital’s defense to match it.”

“I haven’t the faintest. Given that we don’t know the aim behind this revolution of theirs, any conjecture we come up with will be half-baked at best. We dealt with the attackers this time, but I’ve little hope they’ll stop there. However, the abruptness of their appearance makes investigating them difficult. The Capital’s attacker was eaten, and Vyade’s audience chamber is sealed off.”

“What about the demi-humans? Now that I think about it, how’re them shady-ass lizard bastards holdin’ up?”

“No need to worry. We just received word that they’re fine. It would seem they managed to avoid being attacked. However, I’m told they deployed a cannoneer squad to be on the safe side, and La Christoph went to provide them with reinforcements,” said Izabella.

Elisabeth gave Izabella’s answer a nod.

Ever since the end of days, the restrictions on saint dispatches had been dramatically relaxed. Given that La Christoph, the one saint who excelled in both leadership and combat, had gone to help, the demi-humans should be fine.

With that matter settled, Elisabeth got back to thinking. She propped her chin up with an elbow that rested her chin atop her crossed legs; then she closed her eyes.

There was a fire burning up from the bottom of the world. Someone was crying out.

A calamity on par with the end of days was coming, and everyone would be powerless to resist their impending demise.

That grim premonition of hers hadn’t changed. Yet she still had no idea how exactly things were going to play out.

I overlooked the gravity of the information on demon crossbreeding. Some Torture Princess I am… Still, though, the fault doesn’t lie solely with me—that man’s way of thinking is simply perverse.

One might even say he reared hell within his mind.

That was simply how striking the difference between the man in black’s thought processes and inventive prowess were from a normal person’s. He was similar to a demon in that respect—they, too, exceeded mankind’s imagination with ease.

And Elisabeth could think of another person who met that description as well.

…I’d hoped to be able to consign my memories of that man to oblivion, but alas.

She scrunched up her face. However, now was no time to get hung up on personal feelings, and she didn’t have the luxury of worrying about what would happen afterward. The sad truth of the matter was that they were woefully short on manpower.

Sometimes, the only thing that could defeat evil was a different brand of evil.

The Torture Princess was evil; there was no doubt about that. But there were realms of evil not even she had transgressed.

Elisabeth gave in and accepted the idea that had flitted through her mind.

“Well, if I must, I must. I’m off. As I said earlier, referencing Kaito’s thought process will provide us no help in the slightest. However, there’s another individual who may have some insight into our situation.”

“You think they can help? Who is it, might I ask?”

“Oh my, how unusual. You would visit the Harlequin of your own accord? Damn, now there’s a sign of the apocalypse if ever I saw one!”

Maclaeus reacted with curiosity, and Jeanne let out a perversely amused cry. Then catching herself, she clamped her mouth shut and glanced timidly at Izabella. Fortunately for her, though, Izabella was busy trying to figure out who Elisabeth was talking about.

“Whew, thank goodness,” Jeanne murmured.

After glancing over at Jeanne, who was playing the part of the henpecked spouse, Elisabeth stood up. She snapped her fingers and dispelled her chair. Darkness and crimson flower petals whirled up as she gave her answer.

“He Who Rears Hell Within His Mind.”

It was a name given to the man in question by the Kaiser, the most powerful of the fourteen demons. Maclaeus must have been familiar with it, as he immediately gulped. Izabella’s eyes went wide. Jeanne curled her lips ever so slightly.

Elisabeth then finished her reluctant proclamation.

“I’m going to see Vlad Le Fanu.”