Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 6

6

The Rebellion’s Cause

To tell you the truth, we began formulating the plan for our rebellion decades ago.

We’ll probably earn some criticism for that. After all, the massacre hadn’t happened yet. And at that point, I hadn’t even been born. But that only goes to show how long we mixed-race folk have been persecuted for. Each time the various races go to war, we inevitably get caught in the cross fire. And even in peacetime, too many of us get bled dry regardless.

Allow me to cite a personal example. My father was a demi-human, and my mother was a mixed-race beastfolk-human. Now, unlike me, my sister manifested the kind of beastfolk ears and tail that made her a target for deviants. When she was ten, a group of men assaulted her in an abandoned building. Afterward, she closed off her heart and went missing shortly into adulthood. As for my brother, he didn’t manifest any mixed-race characteristics at all. He went to work for the Church as an assistant, but when they discovered that we were related, the priest’s relative who was supposed to adopt him broke it off, and he hung himself out of grief. After that, I left my family as well. My childhood friend got sold off for a copper, and I haven’t seen them since, either.

Whenever anyone saw me, they would always scream the same thing. “He’s possessed by a demon.”

Now, it is true that demons induce grotesque transformations in their contractors. But the masses didn’t know that. However, vague impressions were more than enough for them to shun me. “It’s like in fairy tales,” “hideous people do hideous things.” No doubt that that’s how most people perceived me. I once offered my hand to a little girl who’d fallen over, and I got beaten half to death for my concern.

And so I roamed about, alone, planning on dying by the roadside somewhere. But a group planning a rebellion found me and took me in.

A few decades ago, a group of mixed-race folk whose appearances made it too difficult to participate in society banded together.

Now, back in the beginning, they were little more than a seedy group of bandits. But by the time I joined up, they’d acquired a number of successful commercial benefactors and were using their resources to steal and occasionally buy magic remedies and items, acquire golems and spirits, and amass rare materials and equipment. They’d even set up a little school of sorts for those with magical aptitude.

They dreamed of seceding from the world much as one might yearn for a lover. When I lamented the fact that my attack took three years to put into action, that long period of enduring was the primary culprit.

When the fourteen demons began their assault on mankind, our organization swallowed up information on them and used it to grow stronger. But right when we finally succeeded in summoning a low-ranked demon ourselves, I and the rest of the leadership declared we were ceasing our efforts.

We were afraid, you see. Most of the mixed-race folk lived in poverty, but they lived all the same. They had it hard, but no harder than the humans struggling to make ends meet in the slums. And we couldn’t bear to put a mark on their heads as a result of our desire for rebellion. We didn’t want to make our sinless brethren have to shoulder that grief. So we sealed away our dark magic and instead chose a path of endurance. We forgave countless small atrocities and left tragedies as they were.

And that was fine. We thought it was for the best.

But then the end of days came.

And after that, well, you know the rest. Thank you for lending me your ears. And I have one last request for you—please remember this. We were the ones who chose rebellion and swore revenge. But we were not the first to draw swords.

You people were.

“That is the reason I aim to revolutionize the world. The Mixed-Race Massacre, and the countless mundane sorrows that preceded it. Now, as for the former, I was planning on omitting an explanation, but would you prefer I went over it?”

“That shan’t be necessary. I’m well acquainted with it.”

Elisabeth gave her answer immediately. La Christoph was undoubtedly the same. And it wasn’t just them, either. Basically every member of the intellectual class who survived the end of days knew about it. However, no one so much as mentioned it.

After all, it was a scandal serious enough to completely ruin the moving tale of the three races uniting in the face of oblivion.

The series of tragedies began back before the end of days, when the reconstruction sect spread a certain rumor.

“Hark, O ye ignorant faithful. Pray that God shall be your salvation. For the beginning, the middle, and the end all lie in the palm of His hand.” “The end-time is nigh.” “After the restoration, the devout faithful will be led into the new world.” They were selfish delusions, and they weren’t grounded in anything but bullshit. But when faced with the calamity that was the end of days, many people falsely believed that the predictions were coming true. However, only a scant few of them could truly claim to have been the “devout faithful.” Afraid of dying, they turned to a crime not listed in their dogma.

Killing heretics.

That desire for salvation led to the Mixed-Race Massacre.

People hoped that by killing heathens, they could demonstrate their piety toward God.

Now technically, the beastfolk and the demi-humans’ objects of worship, the Three Kings of the Forest and the Sand Queen, respectively, were all God’s creations, so all their faiths shared the same foundations. However, even those mere aesthetic differences were enough for people to brand all other races as heretics. And because the mixed-race folk lived among them, they were the ones who became targeted. However, demi-humans were blood-purity fanatics, and because of all the chaos and mayhem, the beastfolk and other humans abandoned the mixed-race folk to their fate as well.

The mixed-race folk had no one to protect them and nowhere to run. Countless lives were lost to the senseless violence.

And to make matters worse, the incident left lasting marks.

At the time of the tragedy, most of the perpetrators had been completely deranged. Even still, there was no consensus on how harsh their punishments should be. And although officials often had their suspicions, it was rare to find a crime scene where it could be definitively proven that it wasn’t just the work of the demon underlings. Forget victims and perpetrators; it was difficult even pinning down how many crimes had actually been committed. Aside from the incidents where malicious agitation could be proven and the extreme outliers in terms of scale and brutality—like the case out in the sticks where dozens of people had been locked in a storehouse and burned alive—most of the perpetrators had been left at large.

And for another thing, the tragedies continued to happen even after the end of days was averted.

The stupid sheep are little more than base animals. They haven’t even the capacity to learn.

There was no shortage of fools who, still fearing God and Diablo, had begun committing ceremonial killings, forcing the three races to establish the Peace Brigade to crack down on them. Even that hadn’t stopped the violence, but over the past year, incidents had begun dropping precipitously. It was a happy trend, but the sudden dramatic change had left Elisabeth puzzled.

A short while ago, she’d mentioned as such to the crystal-bound Kaito and Hina.

“Ah, but there is some good news. Although they yet continue, the mixed-race murders have subsided dramatically over the last year. ’Tis a natural result of the situation calming down, but still. That said, there is something strange that’s caught my attention about the way it’s subsided.”

Now that I think of it…that may well have been our sole sign that this incident was coming.

Lewis and his compatriots had completely suspended their efforts right when they reached the stage where they could have put them into practical use. After the chaos of the end of days, it had taken them some time to get their operation back up and running. And while they were doing that, they were no doubt also rushing to protect the mixed-race folk.

A year ago, those efforts must have finally started bearing significant fruit.

While Elisabeth spun up conjectures, Lewis continued on.

“If you want to laugh at me, then laugh away. My words are but a lamentation of the humiliating lives we’ve been forced into. A cry of rage at the cruelty of the fates we’ve been subjected to—for so, so many insisted on continuing their insane foolishness. And who allowed them to be so stupid? So cruel?”

Why should we have to forgive them?

Make no mistake—we have been called on to forgive them time and again.

Lewis’s sorrowful lament echoed throughout the white room. Elisabeth could tell that his yearning was true. In the past, he’d forgiven time and again. After “not even being allowed to live his own life,” he’d tried to “let the tragedy end as a tragedy.” But his resolve had been betrayed.

If there was an answer to his question, he no doubt wanted to hear it. However, no one spoke. Elisabeth simply thought.

Irrationality is irrational precisely because it cannot be explained.

Why had those tragedies happened? Probably not even the perpetrators could answer that question.

Elisabeth and La Christoph were both involved in overseeing the three races’ affairs. However, neither of them had the base audacity to try to offer up excuses.

During her time with the Peace Brigade, Elisabeth had seen one of the massacres firsthand.

The crime had taken place in a demon worshipper’s ceremonial chamber. The victims, all mixed-race children, had had their beastfolk ears torn off and the fur flayed from their skulls. And despite his head being reduced to little more than a lump of muscle fibers, one boy had even survived the process.

That…that was akin to butchering an animal.

“You’re not the same as me. You’re different from us.

We’re completely different creatures.

That means I can do whatever I want to you.”

That was the vile rationalization some people had come to.

No apology could be sufficient for that. Atonement was never an option.

And what’s more, the scene Elisabeth had stumbled onto was from after the end of days was averted. The ones that took place during that panicked time were crueler yet. Just reading the records of them had been enough to make several civil officials puke up their guts.

No answer could explain away irrationality on that scale. Instead, Elisabeth posed a question.

“I understand your motive full well. So what exactly do you intend to do?”

“A thought crossed my mind once—if the end of days truly had been upon us, maybe it would have all been fine. On the brink of annihilation, I could greet even their malice with a smile. All their atrocities could be forgiven, written off as isolated incidents of fear-induced derangement. But God and Diablo failed to bring down the hammer—”

—so I must do it in their stead.

The whisper slipped fluidly from Lewis’s lips. He was laying his worn-out heart bare, but in a different way than he had when he’d expressed his sympathy for Elisabeth. For the first time, he was allowing his warped obsession to leak out.

“I’ll take this world, I’ll make it my own, and I’ll kill every last fool who walks upon it. I don’t need a reason. After all, justice died long ago. At this point, what use does anyone have for something so decent and proper?”

For those who’ve sustained such bitter wounds—may well just try to destroy everything.

The words Elisabeth had been contemplating earlier floated to the forefront of her mind.

Lewis had been left with his sympathy and his rage, but his passion and avarice had run dry. As he saw it, the world had no worth, and it was impossible to feel passion or avarice for something worthless. He’d decided to make the world his own, but not out of any sort of personal desire.

He merely wanted to right a horrible wrong. Nothing more.

Those who’ve been taken from have a right to take from others in turn, eh.

As far as Elisabeth was concerned, though—

—the whole thing seemed downright trivial.

Writing him off like that was narrow-minded and cruel.

Elisabeth was well aware of how callous she was being. Yet even so, she couldn’t help but think.

What exactly is a tragedy? An irrationality?

What exactly was rage? What did it mean to not have any sin? Who got to decide who had sin and who didn’t?

Was   guilty? Or innocent?

’Tis but one answer you can give with any certainty.

Namely, that thinking about it would get you nowhere.

It was true—the world did force a small few to bear the great burden of sacrifice far too often. If she was forced to say if that was forgivable or unforgivable, she would probably choose the latter. The day of forgiveness would never come. And the victims had every right to curse, resent, and detest the world. But on the other hand, there was something Lewis and Alice had forgotten. As such, Elisabeth merely gazed at them.

Upon finding herself on the receiving end of that ostensibly calm gaze, Alice frowned, then nodded.

“It’s a shame, Elisabeth. It really is a shame. From looking at your eyes, I can tell I shouldn’t expect the answer I want…but you know, I sort of knew that already. Saying to the Torture Princess look at how pitiful we are—please lend us your strength was never going to work, right? So you see, we prepared a reward for you. Now let’s talk about it!”

“A reward, eh? I must say, I can’t imagine anything you’ll offer changing my mind.”

“No, no, that’s not true at all! I told you, remember? ‘I’ll help you meet them’!”

Elisabeth’s eyebrow twitched. That was something Vlad had pointed out, too.

Diablo, the entity with domain over destruction, and God, the entity with domain over reconstruction, were sealed away within Kaito Sena’s body. Depending on how he was handled, the world’s fate would shift greatly. And Elisabeth had no intentions of letting anyone who planned on reaching for the two of them with blood-soaked hands live. Alice, perhaps sensing the hostility well up within her, shook her head.

“We’re not going to do anything bad to the two people you care about, really! We just want to help you meet them!”

“Perhaps it would be better if I spoke on the particulars of the deal we’re offering Elisabeth Le Fanu,”

Lewis cut in, as though he’d been waiting for the opportunity to do so. La Christoph remained silent. It was unclear whether or not he’d been offered any terms of his own. Elisabeth elected to stay quiet for the time being as well.

For the moment, her curiosity had won out over her anger. As long as God and Diablo remained in his body, Kaito Sena could never be freed. Or at least, that was supposed to be the case. And she didn’t believe revolutionizing the world was possible, either.

I imagine Lewis’s primary objective is to root out the rest of the Mixed-Race Massacre’s perpetrators and see them punished.

After that, it was conceivable that he’d want power and control so as to prevent the same atrocity from ever happening again.

The fastest way to correct a foolish flock was to become a shepherd yourself.

The Fremd Torturchen, the Torture Princess, saints, and demon grandchildren were all valuable weapons with which to achieve that end. They might even be strong enough to rewrite the world’s power structure entirely. However, that was all. The road ended there.

There were three different races that lived in that world. Even if you kept one in check, the other two would invariably push back. They all lived in different places and fought in different ways, meaning their resistance would be deep-rooted. Maintaining control would be trying.

For a small group to truly maintain control, ’twould take unimaginable power to… No, hold on a moment.

All of a sudden, Elisabeth realized something. Their current situation bore a striking resemblance to a story she’d once heard.

It was a tale from long, long ago, of events that had happened in the world prior.

The Saint had told it, and Kaito Sena had recorded it. Then after she told it to him, the Saint vanished. In spite of the frenetic search conducted by paladins and associates of the Church, she still hadn’t been found. However, Elisabeth didn’t much care about that. The problem lay in how similar their situations were.

Before the last reconstruction, the world had descended into a morass of conflict and war. The Saint, wanting to quell the fighting on her own, went out in search of something. Specifically, a powerful deterrent—God and Diablo.

What was it that Lewis needed now that he stood in the same position the Saint once had? As if to answer that question, he spoke.

“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… I’ve already told you that story a number of times. What I want to teach you now is what lies beyond it. You see, over the course of my experiments, I was able to prove a new theory.”

“An inauspicious prelude, to be sure… What was it that you found?”

“Demon grandchildren aren’t restricted to breeding with dissolved contractors who couldn’t control their demons. While you do need to use homunculus technology to grow artificial genitals for them, it’s possible to make demon grandchildren breed with regular humans—and in doing so, we were able to create a new species.”

“—!”

Elisabeth was at a complete loss for words. La Christoph’s shoulders twitched.

The test subjects had likely been those who’d tried to murder mixed-race folk and had the tables turned on them. In a sense, it was just deserts. However, it was repulsive simply imagining the process it had taken to finally reach that result. Plus, what was even the point?

Lewis continued as dispassionately as if he were talking about crossbreeding mice.

“Demon grandchildren have human parts that are too damaged for them to form contracts with higher entities. However, if you cross a demon grandchild with someone capable of using magic, not only does it still inherit some of the demon blood, but you also obtain a new entity with a profound affinity for higher beings. The more powerful a mage the human mother is, the more human the baby becomes, and the easier it is for it to form a contract. My plan, going forward, is to prepare two babies, then transfer God and Diablo from Kaito Sena into them. Immediately thereafter, we can use God to prevent Diablo from going on a rampage. Then by sealing God in a crystal, we’ll be able to contain both of them in much the manner the Saint did.”

“Armchair theories, then. You’ve no actual proof that your plan will work. And even if it does, what then? The best you can do is contain them. The moment you awaken them, the end of days will commence all over again. That hardly makes for much of a military asset. What gain is there merely from changing their vessel?”

“We don’t have to use them. We just have to have them.”

Alice gave Elisabeth’s warning an apathetic response. Elisabeth turned her gaze over to her. Seeming to understand the plan despite her youth, Alice smiled gently.

“We’ll have the babies with God and Diablo in them. That fact’s the only thing that’s important. It doesn’t matter if we don’t use them—as long as everyone else knows that if we do, the world will end. That way, we can become proper shepherds.”

“I see—you aim to use them as deterrents.”

Elisabeth heaved a deep sigh. Their plan was the exact same as the Saint’s had been in the old world.

The similarities between their current situation and the one that had preceded the last world’s end of days were more than she’d imagined. However, there were also a number of key differences. For one, the greatest barrier—the summoning—had already been completed. Also, they knew a good deal more about contracts with higher entities than the last world ever had. Terrifying as the prospect was, their plan was much more likely to succeed than the Saint’s failed attempt to control Diablo had been.

Elisabeth’s headache worsened. She looked up at the ceiling.

But what exactly is a “proper shepherd”?

Was it someone who wouldn’t abandon even a single lost sheep? Or was it someone who was willing to cast a single sheep down a ravine to save a thousand others?

Or was it perhaps someone who was willing to take a hundred stupid sheep and chop all their heads off? There were too many ways to answer. If nothing else, it was foolishness for lower entities like them to try and find one with their limited reasoning skills and value systems. But if that was the case, then…

What exactly would proper salvation have looked like?

Even the conversation they were having right there at that moment had come about as a result of how the battle for “salvation” had concluded. The more she thought about it, the more she realized just how inane it all was. The Torture Princess fought through her headache and spoke:

“So…what part would you have me play in this horrid scheme of yours?”

“Hmm? Why, your role should have been clear from that explanation just now—you’re going to be the mother!”

Alice hopped up on top of her chair. Lewis buried his face in one hand. His carefully laid negotiation strategy had clearly just gone out the window. La Christoph blinked and cocked his head to the side. A few seconds later, after realizing what Alice meant, he turned to look at Elisabeth. It was a strangely amusing reaction. Elisabeth, distracted by watching La Christoph, took a little longer to catch her drift.

A moment later, though, the veins in her forehead practically bulged out of her skin.

“Let me make sure I’m understanding you clearly. You want me to copulate with a demon grandchild and have a baby?”

“That’s right! After all, you’re a woman, and your body’s adapted to the First Demon’s flesh! And you’re the world-renowned peerless sinner, the Torture Princess! And a pretty, mature lady! Why, you might well be the very best candidate for the mother in the whole wide world! So that’s our condition for you—and also your reward!”

“My reward? What part of that sounds like a reward to you? Do not sully my ears with drivel.”

“But, Elisabeth, don’t you see? All you have to do is have two babies, and you can free Kaito Sena!”

Through sheer obstinance, Elisabeth was able to keep her discomposure to a minimum. Alice didn’t seem to have any ill intent. Yet in a rare occurrence, her words struck Elisabeth like a spear to the heart nonetheless.

The thing was, there was a certain truth Elisabeth had long since known.

Skilled mages lived long lives, and the Torture Princess was certainly no exception. She had the capacity to vastly outlive any normal person. However, she’d also done the math. The odds were close to zero that, in her lifetime, she would ever meet a vessel powerful enough to serve as Kaito’s replacement and become a contractor to God and Diablo. And even in the unlikely event one was born, it wasn’t like she could just force them to take over the role.

In other words, the answer was clear: No matter how long she waited, it wouldn’t matter.

“I wish I could see you,” she’d said, dreaming of that someday. But on the other hand, she’d already reached her conclusion. That idyllic dream wasn’t going to come true. And once she’d acknowledged that, all that remained was the cold, hard truth.

There shan’t be a “someday.”

Elisabeth Le Fanu would never see her dim-witted servant again.

Elisabeth recalled a certain sight—a sight that was beautiful, but nothing more.

Her two dearest people, slumbering amid azure and crimson flower petals. The crystal was cold and hard. The distance its clear walls separated was slim, yet it was farther than the World’s End. She couldn’t touch them. She couldn’t talk to them.

Just once is all I ask. If I could reach them, I wouldn’t mind chopping off my fingers. If I could talk to them, I would happily stitch my lips together. If I could hear their voices, I would light my ears ablaze and then crush them with glee.

But there was no one she could pay that toll to. The Torture Princess spoke calmly to the weak self in her heart.

“You knew, didn’t you?” “Aye, I knew indeed.”

Their reunion would never come. Yet just now, Alice had put a crack in that hopeless conclusion of hers. It was like she was whispering to her.

Your hands can reach through that crystal, she said, tempting her.

All she had to do was sacrifice herself and choose to drench the world in blood.

“It’s okay, Elisabeth; I know. In their heart of hearts, everyone has just one thing that truly matters to them.”

And for its sake, they could do or become anything, right?

Alice Carroll deepened her smile, as though to demonstrate her understanding.

It was a pure expression, filled with nothing but concern toward Elisabeth.

“…Ah, I see.”

Elisabeth quietly closed her eyes. She was holding one leg, which was perched atop the chair. Still posed like that, she leaned all the way backward and rested her back against the chair’s. Her elegant black hair rustled as it draped around her. She pursed her lips tight.

Then she went still, as though considering the demonic proposition.

Silence filled the room. Nobody said a word.

Even Alice closed her chatterbox of a mouth. And not just Lewis, but La Christoph, too, was wordless.

A few moments later, with no warning whatsoever, Elisabeth snapped her eyes open. Her red irises gleamed as she sat back up. Then she looked straight forward. Without asking anyone’s opinion, and without exchanging so much as a glance with La Christoph, she gave her answer.

Sure enough, her answer was the same as it had been in a similar situation once before, down to the very word choice.

“Hard pass!”

“That was surprisingly quick.”

“And decisive.”

“Yeah, I figured that wouldn’t work.”

Surprisingly, the reactions she got were all fairly nonchalant. It would seem everyone had more or less seen it coming.

Elisabeth snorted with a feline “hmph.” Her anguish was still there, but she showed no hesitation.

After all, it was the only answer she could have ever given.

The avengers’ motives and actions were reasonable. And their temptation was certainly appealing. But she had her pride, and she wasn’t about to abandon it. If that had been an option, she’d have smashed the crystal ages ago. After all, Elisabeth knew.

Kaito Sena was a fool. An utter, incorrigible fool.

Even though he’d known just how disgraceful, reprehensible, selfish, and cruel people were, he’d forgiven them anyway. Even after concluding they were hideous, he’d still called them precious. And he’d chosen to love and protect them.

That alone meant the world was worth defending.

The things cherished by the people you care about are beautiful.

Even if you bear no love for those things yourself, that fact still remains.

Kaito Sena saved the world. His unconditional love had saved everything. Thus, to destroy it all would naturally be an action founded on the opposite emotion. And it then followed that those saved by love had no choice but to prevent that destruction.

It was a strange, comical equation. But it wouldn’t be beautiful any other way.

Anything else would have been a disservice to that boy’s resolve and to the way he’d lived his life.

And besides, Lewis and his allies had forgotten something.

“You’re not the same as me. You’re different from us.

We’re completely different creatures.

That means I can do whatever I want to you.”

That was how Lewis now perceived the targets of his vengeance, too.

It was true—the world did force a small few to bear the great burden of sacrifice far too often. If she was forced to say if that was forgivable or unforgivable, she would probably choose the latter. The day of forgiveness would never come. And the victims had every right to curse, resent, and detest the world.

However—that was all.

There was no reason the persecuted should have free rein to persecute anyone and everyone.

“I see no reason why those who’ve been taken from should be able to take from others as they please.”

Elisabeth made her assertion loud and clear. Alice’s white ribbons swelled up. A fiendish smile carved its way across her young face. However, Elisabeth merely ignored her and went on.

“’Tis only reasonable you seek revenge. Your resolve shan’t waver, I can see that much. But if you aim to resent, kill, and seize control indiscriminately, act not surprised when your audience bares its fangs at you. For in the end, both are the perpetrator, and both are the victim. Those who kill are killed, and the cycle of revenge only ceases when the side killed relents and willingly presents their own neck. You and yours faced tragedies. ’Tis only reasonable for you to curse the world—but do not pretend your reasoning is just.”

Elisabeth fixed her gaze on the two of them, the hideous mixed-race man and the girl killed in another world. Both of them were innocent victims. Words could hardly begin to describe the depths of the wounds their hearts had sustained. And they had no way to make their perpetrators pay. It was only natural they would wish for destruction. However, they had no right to turn that wish on the world.

No one did.

Lewis was right—justice had perished long ago. But if that was the case, then using the fact that he’d been taken from as justification was completely contradictory.

Those who resented the world could never be loved by it.

Kaito Sena knew that. Even when faced with the opportunity to kill his father, he’d turned it down, saying, “I don’t need him.” And after that, he’d continued suffering in pain time and again. But he’d never tried to make anyone else shoulder his agony.

I love you, so I’ll shoulder it myself, he’d said.

Why, he’d even smiled while saying it.

“You people are vile.”

Elisabeth spat out the epithet from the bottom of her heart. She acknowledged their feelings, but as a person, she held them in contempt. It didn’t matter if they had taken or were taken from, if they were sinful or sinless.

“’Tis base to proclaim yourself weak for the purpose of trampling on others.”

The room fell into silence once more. Alice moved to hop down from her chair, but Lewis reached out and grabbed her arm. He was waiting for Elisabeth to finish speaking. The Torture Princess laughed wickedly.

“And one more thing. Who the hell do you think it is you’ve invited? ’Tis hardly an exaggeration to call your choice of guest fatally misguided—for I am the Torture Princess, Elisabeth Le Fanu. I am the peerless sinner, hated and resented by all. I am the proud wolf and the lowly sow. Having lived the proud and haughty life of a wolf, I shall die like a lowly sow—and yes, true, I acknowledge it all.”

Elisabeth raised her head in a dignified manner. She thought back on what Vlad had said. He was right—it was hardly fitting for the Torture Princess to grieve like that. And so she laughed again, a heinous, inhuman laugh.

“I have had everything taken from me. At the end of my long battle as the Torture Princess, I was left with nothing. But what of it? Do not mistake me, Lewis. Your sympathy is misplaced—for I was always on the side that took. I slew countless innocents, and by all rights, I shan’t have so much as a demon by my side when I die. But what of it?”

Throughout Elisabeth Le Fanu’s life, she was accompanied by a single dim-witted servant.

She would never see him again. She couldn’t talk to him. She couldn’t even hear his voice. And yet even so—

“There existed a calm, banal, dreamlike moment. That moment has passed—but so be it.”

Even though it was over—

—a part of it lived on.

“’Twas his wish that the world be saved and that I live on. As his master, I aim to honor that decision. Those days were a miracle and a blessing the likes of which were too good for this sinner, and they shan’t return. But so be it.”

Every dream eventually ended. But what was so bad about that?

That was no reason to err. It was true—she could give birth to those vile children, drown the world in blood, and allow vengeance to flourish. But it wasn’t the ending the boy had wished for. And because she knew that, it was her duty to protect his story, even if doing so was more painful than death. She had to make sure it reached its proper conclusion.

She couldn’t allow anything to defile Kaito Sena’s story.

Even should that choice prove wrong.

Something beautiful and radiant existed.

That fact was certain and was true to that day.

Even rent from beauty itself, its fruits were worth protecting.

“I thank you, Alice Carroll. ’Tis true, I was hardly acting like myself, and I’ve now seen the error of my ways. So allow me to say this loudly and with pride: There was meaning indeed in this peerless sinner’s solitary survival, if only but to quash that resentment of yours—for to lop off the heads of those who’ve chosen evil is evil’s task in turn.”

Elisabeth sneered unpleasantly. She leaped from her chair and thrust her arm out into the air. Darkness and flower petals wound magnificently around her. From within, she drew her trusty scarlet blade.

“Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal!”

The Torture Princess’s voice boomed loud as she stood with her executioner’s blade in hand.

This time, Alice hopped down from her chair for real. Lewis didn’t move a hair. The faintest of smiles played on La Christoph’s lips. Alice’s hair bobbed up and down as she prepared to launch into an angry tirade.

Before she could, though, Elisabeth raised a finger in front of her face.

“And one more thing—no matter what answer I gave, your time was up regardless.”

“Now listen here, Elisabeth, you… Hmm, wait, what do you mean?”

Alice blinked. Lewis raised an eyebrow. However, seeming to have realized something, he immediately shifted his gaze to a section of the wall. Elisabeth nodded. His instincts were sharp.

The next moment, a heavy, muffled BRRRRRRRRRRRRRN echoed through the air. The entire villa shook.

Chips and splinters rained down from the ceiling. Something was clearly happening. Lewis quickly rose to his feet, and Alice clutched his coat’s hem in fear. However, the room had no windows. There was no way for them to see what was going on outside. Despite that, the noise and the tremor had definitely both come from the direction Lewis was looking.

It was the direction the Sand Temple lay in.

Elisabeth knew that meant all hell had just broken loose.

For that sound was none other than the Sand Queen’s corpse exploding.