Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 7

7

A Waltz for Two

Right before Elisabeth left for the demi-human lands, another act unfurled in the human Capital.

The stage was the royal tomb’s lowest floor, in front of the chamber with the kings’ coffins. The cast had two members. And the play was about the attack on the demi-human lands, as the ebony Torture Princess so rhythmically told the golden Torture Princess.

“Listen well, Jeanne. I intend to head for the demi-human lands, exactly as demanded. But in the meantime…I want you lot to make a move elsewhere. While Alice and Lewis, the attackers’ main force, are focused on negotiating, your job is to free the hostages.”

“How very simple. In fact, it hardly even rises to the level of a plan. That shit’s basic! It’s so damn bland that it makes unbuttered bread look like caviar!”

“Aye, so it is. And that’s why you’re going to add a little twist.”

Elisabeth gave Jeanne a meaningful grin. Her voice, filled with sinister intimations, piqued Jeanne’s attention.

Then without a shred of hesitation, shame, or indecision, Elisabeth gave Jeanne her instructions.

To put it in chess terms, her plan was as insane as sacrificing one’s king.

“Namely, you’re going to blow up the Sand Queen’s corpse.”

“Reckless…doesn’t even begin to describe it. This isn’t a risky play; it’s straight-up illegal. But this shit ain’t half-bad. It’s so wicked, and so wicked! Guess this is why they pay her the big bucks!”

Jeanne licked her lips like a cat.

Her honey-blond hair fluttered, practically scraping the Sand Temple’s ceiling as it did. The temple had a large, metal, hoop-shaped lighting fixture with brazier cages installed on its circumference, and at the moment, Jeanne was perched atop it.

Each time the walls shook, the chain-mounted hoop trembled violently, the towering bone pillar before her eyes creaked, and rock chunks of various sizes cascaded down from the ceiling. Despite the jagged rain, though, Jeanne didn’t so much as flinch. Her gaze was focused on a single point.

Deep inside the temple, there was a hexagonal sanctuary adorned with gold and jewels. It was a building inside the building, like a pair of nesting boxes. Without going through its door, it was impossible to have an audience with the Sand Queen’s corpse. The layout served two purposes; it enhanced the temple’s mystique, and it protected against mages invading it.

The inner sanctuary was guarded by a magic circle that repelled people based on their blood.

Historically, the spell had covered the entire temple. However, the rest of it had been lifted after the third peace treaty, both because of how inconvenient it was when their old friends the beastfolk wanted to send their royalty to pay respects, and out of consideration for the burden it placed on the demi-human priests when they made pilgrimages to the other sectors.

As a result, mages with enough power could forcibly teleport their way in from outside. But during times of peace, the temple was open to the public anyway. There was virtually no reason anyone would need to sneak in.

However, the inner sanctuary was still inviolable, even to that day. If you opened its door, though, you’d be greeted by a winding, serpentine staircase covered in blood runes. Beyond it lay the Sand Queen’s burial chamber, a massive room blanketed in a thick layer of vitreous sand. Her colossal body, half buried under the white, cloudy grains, was said to resemble a lizard’s. It was also said her body glowed red and had never decomposed. For many ages, she’d rested down there in peace.

Now, though, that stillness had been shattered into a million pieces. An explosion had gone off beneath the sanctuary.

“…Oh my, that is dramatic. And probably more effective than stabbin’ them in their actual hearts, too. Almost feels too easy.”

Jeanne murmured the words, which sounded as though they’d have been best accompanied by a whistle, as dispassionately as ever.

The explosion had had an immediate, drastic effect inside the temple. Until just a moment ago, the hostages’ arms had been bound, and they’d all been collapsed lifelessly on their sides. The terror from the end of days had returned, overwhelming them and leaving them unable to even move. Now, though, it was like a switch had been flipped. All of them rushed violently toward the inner sanctuary.

The armed mixed-race folk stood dumbfounded. They couldn’t even parse their hostages’ sudden change. However, the demi-humans’ actions were consistent with their beliefs. Even in crisis situations, their desire to be “proper subjects” took absolute precedence. To them, their reverence for pure bloodlines and the Sand Queen was more important than their own safety. And right now, that meant checking in on their queen’s corpse to make sure it was unharmed.

One of them nimbly hopped up and took off at a dash. Several of the others tripped and fell, but they, too, continued struggling onward.

A long moment later, the mixed-race folk shouted out threats to make them stop and come back.

“Don’t get up without permission! You wanna die?!”

“Silence! We had a deal, and you broke it! How dare you lowlifes endanger Her Majesty the Sand Queen!”

They were met with one angry cry after another. The mixed-race folk flinched. They had no comebacks to that.

After their armed assault succeeded, the mixed-race people had used the Sand Queen’s corpse as a hostage for their own hostages.

Blowing it up for no reason would make keeping control of the temple impossible. It might even mess up the negotiations with La Christoph. But given that an explosion had broken out regardless, the only possibility they could think of was that their lookout had acted on his own—in other words, they thought it was their own fault.

Their response weakened, and for a moment, the mixed-race folk stopped in their tracks.

“So far, all according to plan.”

Jeanne nodded. However, the mixed-race people soon set off to check on the state of affairs underground, and earlier than she’d expected. They tightened their grips on their weapons. They needed to check what was happening in the inner sanctuary, and the hostages grouped at its entrance were in their way. Jeanne narrowed her eyes. But then it happened.

Someone pounded hard on the temple’s main doors from outside.

Flustered, the mixed-race folk turned around. Jeanne nodded again. It would seem they’d made it in time.

Angry voices were audible through the door. The purebloods who’d avoided confinement had come running over. It was an immediate, violent, impulsive response. “Did you harm the Sand Queen?!” they shouted.

The graveyard-like silence that had filled the first sector had been completely broken.

Fear was only capable of controlling people for so long, and that time had come to an abrupt end.

The mixed-race people looked dumbfounded. However, their surprise didn’t last long. Soon, their faces were filled with loathing.

Their people had long been oppressed and persecuted, making the spirit of self-sacrifice that accompanied blood-purity fanaticism anathema to them.

They turned their weapons back toward the royalty and other hostages.

I imagine they think the people outside have merely forgotten the position they’re in due to their rage, but hearing the hostages scream will shut them up. I see, I see. A very practical solution…or so they thought! Suckers!

Suddenly, a scream rang out.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”

“…Huh?”

However, the mixed-race people hadn’t done anything yet. They looked toward the inner sanctuary’s entrance in unison.

The scream had come through it, from below. Clearly, their lookout in the Sand Queen’s chamber had been visited by an uninvited guest. That meant that the bombing, too, had been this stranger’s work, and not their lookout’s.

However, teleporting in directly was impossible. When had someone been able to sneak past them? Why had they gone after the Sand Queen instead of them? And what possible reason could they have for wanting to blow up a corpse?

The mixed-race folk found themselves with questions upon questions. But the angry cries from the hostages and people outside prevented them from thinking straight. Jeanne licked her lips as she gazed down at the chaos below her.

“I suppose it’s time, then. When the meat starts sizzlin’, you gotta take it off the grill.”

Jeanne took a deep breath. Then she elegantly arched her back and thrust her bondage-strapped chest forward. Her ribs pressed faint outlines into her skin, and her honey-blond hair draped luxuriously down her back. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she spoke her loving whisper.

“Now then, my fair lady—let us dance.”

Jeanne raised her arms into the air like a conductor.

The moment she did, something shot out into the room full of bone pillars.

Her silver puppet.

The golden Torture Princess, Jeanne de Rais, once possessed an exceptional weapon.

It was a titan made from four parts. One of them was a beast made of nothing but fangs. Another was an automaton, shaped like a human except for its fatally warped framework. One of the other monsters was a lizard with limbs made from pipes and wings made of glass. And the final one was a bipedal suit of armor with no visible seams on its body. The weapon was singular, and the weapon was many. It was one, and it was four. They were separate, and they were a titan.

Such was the nature of Deus Ex Machina.

Not only could it be summoned regardless of the user’s nature or disposition, but it was also a living weapon without equal. However, Deus Ex Machina was lost to Jeanne. She had sacrificed it to save her first love, Izabella Vicker.

It happened right before the end of days.

After being captured by the Church’s reconstruction sect, Izabella was forced to eat demon flesh and partially transformed into a monster. Saving her was just barely possible, but it would require removing the corrupted parts and replacing them with Deus Ex Machina. And thus, Jeanne was faced with a choice.

She had the power to save Izabella. However, doing so would mean taking a weapon meant to deliver salvation and rendering it useless. The question was, was the life of her first love more important than the world? And the answer was clear.

Even children know that some things were more important than others. And Jeanne had been created to deliver salvation. It would be a sick joke for the self-proclaimed “oppressor of slaves, the savior of the world, the saint, and the whore” to prioritize her own love over it. And knowing all that, Jeanne chose Izabella anyway. The worst choice possible.

The end of days loomed on the horizon, yet she abandoned her greatest weapon. However, Jeanne had no regrets.

Saving the world and destroying it were both but mere matters of personal conceit. And if faced with the decision a thousand times, Jeanne would no doubt make the same choice a thousand times over. Even if they knew it was a fatal error, there were sometimes choices that people simply had to make.

For Jeanne, that moment was one such choice. And that was all there was to it.

Now, though, all that was but a distant memory. Over three years had passed since the end of days was averted.

If she’d gone that long without taking steps to remedy her own degraded strength, it would have made her a failure as a mage.

After the world was saved, Jeanne had accepted Izabella’s invitation to join the royal castle’s retinue. Then as Jeanne carried out her duties there, she also tried searching for a new weapon. With the end of days averted, she’d fulfilled her purpose in life and had no more reason to fight, but now that she’d fallen in love, she wanted to get her power back anyway.

At first, she used her acquaintances’ techniques as references and tried methods such as summoning countless blades and calling forth torture devices. However, nothing she tried spoke to her the way Deus Ex Machina had. However, she’d largely expected as much. Deus Ex Machina was a supremely dangerous entity, as it drained its user’s mana whether they wanted it to or not. In order to adapt to controlling it, Jeanne had trained ceaselessly since childhood. Eventually, she became more adept at using that steel titan than at using a fork and knife. Trying to find something to replace it was like chopping off her arm and looking for something else to align her nerve endings with. Nothing could possibly compare to the steel titan she’d sacrificed.

But right when Jeanne was getting ready to accept her own limitations, Izabella casually made a suggestion.

“Now that I think about it, couldn’t you just use me?”

She’d dropped that particular bomb while they were having tea, of all times. When she’d made the proposal, Jeanne’s mouth had been full of biscuit.

And that was how the silver puppet began dancing.

“Good heavens… I suppose I’m not one to talk, given that I called myself ‘the oppressor of slaves, the savior of the world, the saint, and the whore,’ but why do all the women in my life have so many loose screws?”

Jeanne let out an exasperated murmur. As she did, she continued waving her arms about in fluid, passionate motions.

Down below, where her rose eyes fell, a silver light traced a graceful arc.

In accordance with Jeanne’s commands, the woman was weaving her way in between the hostages. Her mechanized legs kicked at the rebels’ arms from below, then followed up with strikes to their chests. One after another, their assorted weapons went flying through the air.

The woman’s blows came straight yet were curved. Normal people couldn’t even begin to follow them. The mixed-race folk toppled over, powerless to resist. The next moment, though, a sharp noise rang out, and a bullet grazed her.

“—Gunfire?”

Jeanne cocked her head a little to the side. When she looked over, she saw a half-beastfolk youth reloading his gun with powder and a bullet. The demi-humans’ metalworking was unparalleled. After mastering cannons, they’d begun developing guns, but there were still a lot of kinks to be worked out before the weapons could enter mass production. At the moment, the only ones that could be found in the wild were the few prototypes owned by members of the ruling class who’d taken an interest in them. The rebels had probably pillaged it from one of the hostages’ houses.

“Wh-what the…? You’re not human, you’re not mixed-race… What the hell are you?!”

All the fur around the young man’s face was bristling up. He fired a second time. However, the woman swatted the bullet away without sparing it a second glance. Then she closed in on the youth and sank her knee into his gut.

Vomit sprayed from his mouth as he crumpled to the ground. Mixed-race folk and hostages alike balked at the sight.

The way she was moving was beyond the capacity of any living creature.

Technically, it isn’t just her movements. That ain’t the half of what my lady’s capable of.

As Jeanne observed the panic below, her thoughts turned.

At the moment, the woman was combining her own sight with Jeanne’s overhead view—which she was sending directly to her—and Jeanne’s orders to make the optimal choice at every turn. It was a feat that qualified squarely as superhuman.

She carried out Jeanne’s absurd demands one after another, never once pausing or stopping.

The way she ran, like a skater gliding on ice, was spellbinding. It felt almost as though it should have been accompanied by music.

Suddenly, there was a change in the inner sanctuary. Several small holes appeared in its gold- and jewel-adorned walls.

Several metal spheres had just cut themselves out from inside. As they spun, they extended their legs. Once spread out, their full bodies looked like spiders. However, not all of them had eight limbs. Some of them even had an odd number of legs.

They quickly began scuttling across the ground. They chased after the woman, then leaped toward her. Once they were in midair, they spun about again, changing once more into all sorts of different shapes. With clicks, they slotted themselves into the woman’s chest and rear.

Each one of them was a “lifeless living creature” made from a part of Deus Ex Machina. Once they returned to the woman’s body, they became mere “parts” again and went silent. It looked like all of them had made it back up from underground successfully.

After making sure they were all safe and accounted for, Jeanne nodded. Then she quietly summed up the situation.

“As evidenced by my presence here, teleporting into the temple was trivial. The hard part was what came afterward… If we weren’t careful, the hostages would have been in danger. And most importantly, the rebels had a lookout stationed with the Sand Queen, so there was a risk that the hostages themselves would interfere with any rescue attempts out of fear that the rebels would harm their queen. But still, takin’ the biggest obstacle and blowin’ the damn thing up ourselves? That was one crazy-ass solution.”

Jeanne shrugged in exasperation. Meanwhile, the woman continued her elegant dance.

Jeanne took a moment to think back on how they’d gotten there.

Their work had started around when Elisabeth left for the demi-human lands in accordance with the man in black’s demand.

At the same time, Jeanne and the woman had secretly teleported into the temple where the Sand Queen’s body was enshrined.

Once they arrived, Jeanne hid near the ceiling, and the woman took cover behind a pillar. Then the woman broke off as much of Deus Ex Machina as she could without endangering her life and sent the pieces to invade the inner sanctuary by burrowing holes in its walls.

As part of their threat, the mixed-race folk had made it known that they’d set up gunpowder around the Sand Queen. By having the machines strike their legs together, Jeanne and the woman had started a fire and set off an explosion. They’d followed Elisabeth’s plan to a T. However, that wasn’t to say they didn’t run into problems.

In fact, they ran into nothing but problems.

Blowing up the Sand Queen’s corpse wasn’t just racially insensitive. It was essentially a declaration of war. When the woman first heard Elisabeth’s plan, she’d cited that fact as part of her vehement objection.

However, Elisabeth had merely replied with an indominable laugh.

“—Aye, so it would be. If we truly destroyed it, that is. And if we were caught.”

In other words, they’d be in the clear as long as the corpse didn’t actually get damaged and as long as no one found out who was responsible. The plan was reckless, but given the situation they were in, it also had a certain logic to it. All they had to do was line everything up nicely and cover their tracks, and there wouldn’t be any problems.

Even so, the woman’s fears persisted. However, Elisabeth just grinned and went on.

“—Worry not. Actually destroying the Sand Queen would require a blast strong enough to level the entire inner sanctuary.”

Elisabeth had evidence to back her claim up, too.

There were two pieces of information she was basing it off—“the Sand Queen’s shrine had been built from the bones of her close relatives,” and “some of the pillars had mineralized into gems.” Normally, that kind of change would be impossible.

Synthetically mineralizing bones into gems required one to apply high heat and pressure to them in a special mage’s furnace. It was hard to imagine having that happen naturally to bones that were part of a building. In short, it was reasonable to assume that the change had been caused by something about the materials—the bones of the Queen’s relatives. And it followed that there was a good chance that the same thing had happened to the Queen herself, possibly to an even more dramatic degree. In the short time before she had to depart, Elisabeth had gone around and made the civil officials dig up every record and piece of information they could find related to the Sand Queen. However, the demi-humans had kept a tight lid on information regarding her corpse.

The search seemed futile. Surprisingly enough, though, they were able to find consistent accounts in old songs and legends.

“A body unheld by death’s fell claim.” “A radiant form.” “A glittering frame.”

“Adorned with reddened scales.” “Like beautiful stones.” “Our eternal protector.”

All those phrases implied that the Sand Queen’s corpse both glowed red and hadn’t decomposed. It seemed entirely likely that her scales had grown over her flesh and bones and transmuted her corpse into gems. And given that those same gems were being used to support their most sacred shrine, they were probably highly sturdy. The tales of how the Sand Queen’s scales had protected her in battle while she was still alive supported the theory as well. In following, Elisabeth concluded that a random handful of explosives wouldn’t be enough to damage it. However, that didn’t change the fact that the hostages were being cowed into submission out of fear that the Sand Queen’s corpse would be harmed.

For the devout, the mere prospect of having an idol attacked was often scary. Humanity was no different in that regard. For example, the Saint statues were nothing more than lumps of bronze, but if you took a whip to one, the faithful would still raise their voices in protest.

The mixed-race folk were taking the demi-humans’ simple, base piety and using it against them. Elisabeth wanted to take advantage of that fact.

As long as Jeanne and Izabella were able to get out, all that’d be left behind would be the Sand Queen’s undamaged corpse. Everything would get tied up neatly. The explosion would get written off as the fault of the mixed-race folk, or perhaps just a pile of built-up ash spontaneously combusting or something.

As Vlad had once put it, there were times when victory demanded one to abandon their scruples.

It was fitting, then, that such a battle plan would come from his own beloved daughter.

“I’m sure that aspect was unintentional on the little lady’s part, mind you. She might be adopted, but those two are more alike than… Ah, shit, I got distracted. Eh, not that my lady really needs the help.”

Jeanne blinked. Below her, the dance was reaching its conclusion.

Most of the mixed-race folk were already on the ground. However, the last one—a man with bits and features from all three races—was mounting a desperate resistance. After miraculously repelling the woman’s slash, he made a break for it. Then he reached out a scale- and fur-covered hand and hoisted a nearby demi-human girl up by her bound arms.

The girl screamed. Her blue scales were adorned with fine silks, meaning she was probably a member of some noble’s household.

The man pressed a dagger against her thin neck.

“D-don’t come any closer! Stay back, or the girl gets it!”

I recognize you had to come up with it on the spur of the moment, but holy shit, could you have picked a bigger cliché?

Jeanne thought about it for a moment. There were so many mixed-race people in the temple that efficiency couldn’t possibly have been their foes’ primary goal. From that, she inferred they didn’t have anyone on-site nearly as strong as the solo attacker who’d gone after the Capital and ultimately committed suicide. They probably wanted to give their younger members field experience by having them watch over unresisting hostages. That was more or less what she’d expected. All it would take was a single order, and the woman could end things right there.

Now then, what to do? I think…

However, Jeanne intentionally decided to take action herself. She stepped forward, leaving the metal hoop and striding into empty space as casually as if she were going for an afternoon stroll.

Her honey-blond hair gently fluttered as her pale body pitched forward.

Then Jeanne fell, much in the way she had once before.

She aimed for the man’s head.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Those were words shared by everyone who’d ever had a perfectly conceived plan fall to pieces before their eyes.

It was true of humans, beastfolk, demi-humans, and mixed-race folk alike. It was a natural reaction. And it only made matters worse when the one who ruined that plan was a monster who’d appeared out of nowhere. Having one’s assumption of superiority suddenly overturned would throw anyone into a panic. With a little sense, though, one could pull themself together, then try and come up with a new plan to salvage the situation.

Trying to flee would be folly. There was no help to be found that way. No matter how far away you got, the result would be the same.

However, that of all things was the option the man went with. He gradually began making his way backward.

It would seem his plan was to escape out the temple’s door. Things had gone silent after the screams and gunfire, but the angry residents were still right outside. The man was so preoccupied with the threat before him that this unfortunate fact had completely slipped his mind. But all of a sudden, he stopped in his tracks. He was the last mixed-race person standing, so it stood to reason that his instincts were sharp. He looked up.

There, he saw a golden girl swooping down on him like a hawk. Jeanne murmured:

“So long now—it’s time for good little boys to go beddy-bye.”

She twisted her body in such a way that it hardly seemed possible and skimmed his jaw with the tip of her foot.

His brain shook, causing him to immediately pass out. If she’d wanted to, it would have been trivial for Jeanne to snap his neck. However, she elected to spare his life. The recoil from her kick caused her to decelerate a bit. She used the opportunity to check the demi-human girl’s condition. She looked terrified, so Jeanne tried giving her a little smile.

Then she approached the ground. The moment before she was dashed against it, though, a silver flash shot toward her like a shooting star.

A hand reached out and caught Jeanne.

The scene of the knight catching the golden princess in her arms played out exactly as it had once before.

It was like an image straight out of a fairy tale.

The woman squeezed Jeanne tight. After breathing a sigh of relief, she softly buried her nose in Jeanne’s honey-blond hair. For some reason, seeing them like that made the demi-human girl blush and hop high into the air.

As she did, the woman—Izabella Vicker—raised her face from Jeanne’s and shouted:

“What in the world possessed you to leap out like that?! I thought my heart was going to stop!”

“Oh my, my lady, you were worried you would fail to catch me? C’mon, girl, give yourself some credit! A top-tier babe like you ain’t gonna screw up like that!”

Jeanne gave her a spirited response. She was clearly taking great joy in being embraced by Izabella.

After all, Izabella could have handled the situation just fine on her own. Yet even knowing that, Jeanne had leaped down anyway. And it had all been leading up to that moment.

Put bluntly, Jeanne loved being embraced by Izabella.

Izabella glanced over her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. After breathing another sigh of relief, she cleared her throat.

“Ahem… It’s certainly true that I had no intention of letting you fall. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be worried about you. And so I ask you yet again… Can you please try not to be so reckless?”

“Yeeeees, ma’aaaaam. Aye-aye, Captain.”

“That…doesn’t sound quite as sincere as I’d like.”

Izabella pursed her lips in irritation. Jeanne chuckled. It was a far cry from her normal, automaton-like behavior. It was clear that she wasn’t repentant in the slightest. Izabella furrowed her brow.

Jeanne, pleased as could be, began thinking.

Ah, I see, how intriguing. Huh, so this is what it feels like to have someone worry about ya! This shit ain’t half-bad! …Although, I do hope you’ll forgive me, my lady. After all, if not for what I did, you’d never let me cling on to you like this, would you?

Jeanne had confessed her feelings to Izabella. However, the two of them weren’t actually dating.

This, too, was an old story by now.

After the end of days was averted, Izabella had come to Jeanne with a question.

“I wanted to check with you personally. Is it true that you have romantic feelings for me?”

“I won’t mince words—yes, it’s true. That’s why I went and swapped out your body for machine bits. I wanted to save you, no matter the cost.”

“Is it also true that I’m your first love?”

“Yes.”

“…I see. I’ve acknowledged your feelings, and I appreciate them.”

And that was the last Izabella mentioned of it.

Jeanne had never gotten a satisfying response to her confession.

Izabella did get Jeanne hired as a royal mage and made sure they stayed together. But that was all.

Jeanne couldn’t understand what Izabella was thinking. Not only did Jeanne portray a relatively atypical brand of femininity, but she had trouble understanding the subtleties of normal human emotions altogether. As such, Izabella’s actions—or lack thereof—had left her at a total loss. However, the culprit herself didn’t seem to realize the effect she was having on her. It was utterly vexing. At the same time, Jeanne had no intention of forcing an answer out of her. Just getting to be by her side was enough.

For someone with hands as bloodstained as Jeanne’s, it was more than she could have asked for.

Still, she did find herself longing to be embraced from time to time.

It was a sweet craving, one that she herself didn’t fully understand.

Jeanne, taking full advantage of her current opportunity, nuzzled up close to Izabella. Seeing how unrepentant she was, Izabella opened her mouth to scold her. Before she could, though, Jeanne sealed up her lips with the tip of her finger. Izabella blinked and went silent. As the gears in her cheek spun, Jeanne reached toward her tenderly.

“And what about you, my lady? Are you all right? I asked quite a lot of you back there. Even with magical reinforcement, it must have put a lot of strain on your flesh-and-blood parts. Ain’t this the bit where a normal person’s supposed to start hackin’ up blood?”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ve trained more than most. There’s no need to worry. I am a commander, after all!”

Izabella clenched her fist. It was true; she didn’t seem even a little exhausted. However, Jeanne began touching her all over to make sure nothing was out of place. Izabella pursed her lips again.

Her movements from before had transcended the limits of flesh, and Jeanne was concerned about the burden it had put on her body.

The dance-like fighting style was something the two of them had worked on together. During Ragnarok, Izabella figured out how to make her machine parts move. And afterward, Jeanne had given her a hand and helped perfect the technique.

By running mana through the Deus Ex Machina parts that made up Izabella’s body, Jeanne was able to control her like a puppet. It really was no exaggeration to say that Izabella Vicker herself was Jeanne’s new weapon.

While Jeanne was “using” her, Izabella’s physical prowess and ability to process information both drastically increased. And just like the real Deus Ex Machina, she was able to receive Jeanne’s orders without Jeanne having to say a word. Once she mixed in her own judgment, she was able to act on her own volition while still fighting as instructed.

It was like she was moving her legs while following her partner’s lead.

It was like they were dancing as a pair.

That was why they called their technique Waltz.

As Jeanne and Izabella had their exchange, the demi-human girl continued gawking at them. Perhaps she’d been hypnotized by their beauty, as it appeared they’d awakened something in her. When the other hostages saw the girl’s lively figure, they seemed to realize that the danger to their lives had passed. They glanced hesitantly at one another.

Then they all made a rush for the inner sanctuary.

Jeanne’s tone was flat; it was clear how exasperated she was.

“They don’t seem to learn, nor do they seem to give up. I guess this is that ‘conviction’ shit at work, huh?”

“They’ve been through a lot. If they still have that much energy, we should probably count it as a blessing.”

“How very sentimental. The way I see it, they’re all just a bunch of dumbfucks, but…so be it, I suppose.”

This time, the hostages were successful in getting the sanctuary door open. As she watched them all rush underground, Jeanne rested her back against Izabella. A troubled look crossed Izabella’s face, as she probably wanted to go untie the rest of the bound young girls. Jeanne pretended not to notice. As she fawned on Izabella, she let out a small whisper.

“We finished your absurd request. In a moment, we’ll begin moving the hostages and second-class residents somewhere safe. You’re on your own now, Elisabeth Le Fanu. Dunno how things are goin’ over there, but if you’re gonna bite it, you’d better make damn sure you get us that intel first.”

The golden Torture Princess made an insolent proclamation.

And far away, over in the demi-human king’s villa, the ebony Torture Princess nodded.

“Aye, very well. I should think that goes without saying. I’ll make do somehow or other.”

The communication only went one way, but Elisabeth murmured back regardless. Then she gave her fingers a sharp snap.

The thin blood membrane floating in front of her eye popped, and the image of the inside of the temple shattered into pieces. A red droplet landed on Elisabeth’s cheek like a tear.

Alice twitched in surprise. Lewis was as silent as ever.

Elisabeth wiped it away with the back of her hand as she squared off imposingly against the two of them. She sliced at the air with Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal. Her free left hand was wreathed in darkness and flower petals.

Sensing her fighting spirit, Alice stepped forward to match her.

La Christoph nodded briefly. Between the rumbling from the temple and Elisabeth’s murmur, he’d sensed that the situation with the hostages had been resolved. Wanting to get ready for battle himself, he made to release his chains.

That was when Elisabeth grabbed him by the collar.

“Up we go!”

“Pardon?”

She ran mana through her petal-covered hand, then lifted La Christoph’s entire body up. Executioner’s Sword of Frankenthal abruptly vanished, and she let out a firm shout.

“Now we flee!”

“Huh?”

La Christoph stared vacantly at her. A moment later, though, he went, “Ah” with comprehension. It had taken him a second to process what was happening to him. Instead of offering him an explanation, Elisabeth merely took off at a dash. However, La Christoph was simply too tall for her to lift properly. His hair and hem dragged sadly behind him as she ran. After loudly kicking the door open, she made her way outside.

The door swung shut with a surprisingly quiet thump.

All that remained was a deafening silence.

“Hmm?” Alice tilted her head to the side. Then a few seconds later, she burst.

“Wha… Wha… Wh-WHAT THE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECK?!”

Alice bounded to her feet. The white ribbons on her hat stood straight up. She hopped up and down in a violent rage, flailing her fists as she shouted.

“Wh-who just runs away like that without fighting?! Who does that?! You can’t just say whatever you like and then flee! That’s mean! Mean, mean, mean, mean, mean! We have to go after them at once, Father! Faster than if we were chasing the White Rabbit!”

“No, there’s no need to rush.”

Lewis murmured flatly. Alice tilted her head in confusion again.

Lewis took the mask still resting in his hand and leisurely raised it up to his face. A small click rang out. Then after covering half his features with the white crow mask, he murmured once more.

“They can run all they like. They can flee wherever their hearts desire. And there, they can learn that the world is over. No…”

…It had been over from the very beginning.

As Lewis made his cold statement, a faint smile came over his lips.

It was a tired, self-deprecating expression—

—and by far the one most dripping in malice he’d shown yet.