Fremd Torturchen - Volume 7 - Chapter 10

10

The Saint’s Declaration

Shall we be off?

There’s no need for us to hurry as though we were chasing the White Rabbit. Even so, we should stop sitting around like the Caterpillar.

It would seem that everything proceeded according to my instructions. Aguina’s probably carried out his task by now.

It really was unfortunate that we couldn’t find common ground with those two nonconformists. Now that negotiations have broken down, we have no choice but to thin our enemies’ ranks. However, I find it unlikely that Aguina would be able to catch the Torture Princess by surprise. The saint, though, is another… What is it, Alice? I don’t look well?

It’s true, I’ve been better. The anguish hasn’t faded. For in truth, even I know.

Vengeance merely begets vengeance. Despair is a vicious cycle. And demanding atonement from people with no direct connection to the massacre is absurd. Our rebellion will bring about nothing but new tragedies and fresh victims.

We don’t stand to accomplish anything, and it won’t bring anyone happiness. But that’s fine.

Hell only exists within the mind, and ever since the end of days, there’s been a fire burning inside me, one that no amount of rain or tears can quench. So what choice do I have but to throw oil on it?

That way, it can burn and burn and burn and return this whole damn world to ash.

Then once all the hatred and rage and sadness are gone, I’ll finally be able to rest in peace.

Nobody will have to cry anymore. But nobody will be able to smile, either.

Well, so be it. If anything, the fact that people have been able to keep smiling after a tragedy like that is more perverse still. They live such carefree lives, and they’re long overdue for atoning. Because if they don’t, I won’t be able to forgive them. Nor will my comrades. And the dead won’t be able to move on. Still, though, a thought does cross my mind sometimes.

If only God were more merciful.

Were that the case, there might have been another way.

But even if there were—

—I’m sure I would have still chosen the same path.

It’s stupid, I know.

Nothing but irredeemable stupidity.

Just that.

Nothing more.

“First of all, I’d like to set your minds at ease. Your initial assessment, that I was dead, still holds true. As of now, I can no longer be counted among the living in good faith. Counting me among the dead is far more apt.”

“Concern for others should hardly be your top priority in a situation like this! And besides, ’tis illogical for a dead man to be moving… Ah, no, I see now. You didn’t have a heart or lungs to begin with.”

Upon hearing La Christoph’s overly earnest statement, Elisabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose.

The Modest Birdkeeper had lacked many key organs from the beginning. As a saint, La Christoph was a man who existed on the boundary between life and death. Even the poison coursing through his veins wasn’t enough to keep him from being able to speak.

That being said…, Elisabeth thought as she shifted her gaze. After double-checking his wound, she shook her head.

“…How long until you break down?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say. I’m no healer…and even if I were, I imagine I would have quite a difficult time diagnosing a nonliving body. That aside, the necrosis is advancing rapidly. Once my body fully decomposes, even these lips I’m talking with right now will rot away. It won’t be long until I transition from a ‘talking corpse’ to a mere pile of flesh.”

“Y-your body… What in the…?”

“I’m aware of how unseemly it is, my good beastman soldier, and I’m sure I’m not very pleasant to look at right now. However, I do ask you quell your fears to the best of your ability. This body was granted unto me by God, and as such, I take great pride in it.”

Lute had let out an alarmed yelp at La Christoph’s grim condition, and the saint gave him a calm reply. La Christoph’s cheeks had begun slowly caving in, and his gums and teeth were visible through the round holes in them. Meanwhile, his eyes were growing dull from their outer perimeters inward.

Elisabeth had been right—he was little more than a rotting corpse. The poison burned through human flesh like it was nothing. Even without organs to destroy, enough damage to the outside of his body would be enough to end La Christoph’s existence once and for all.

The fact that he was still able to move despite the horrific transformation he was undergoing seemed too cruel to be called divine protection. If anything, it was closer to a curse.

Even so, though, Lute hurriedly saluted him.

“My deepest apologies! I consider it a great honor to be able hear the final words of the saints’ representative…and I can only pray that you will forgive me for my abject failure to protect you.”

“As far as that’s concerned, you have nothing to worry about. I simply left myself open for a moment. More than just a moment, in fact. But that was all there was to it. May God’s blessings and guidance be with you henceforth.”

“Goodness me, I can’t say I expected this… Who would have thought he was this inhuman?”

As Lute expressed his respect for the dead man, and La Christoph responded with gratitude, Aguina let out an astonished murmur. He reflexively adjusted his already perfectly straight spectacles a number of times.

“I even knew how alien your body was, so I should have been more careful. It would seem I’ve been negligent.”

“Not at all, Aguina Elephabred. Your plan succeeded. I’m well and truly a decomposing corpse now. I see no need for anyone to chastise you. Don’t you agree? I’m sure this is enough to satisfy you…my friend.”

La Christoph directed the firm statement behind Aguina.

Elisabeth narrowed her eyes. Black darkness and azure flower petals were dancing at the edge of her vision. After revolving about in a spiral, the two colors compressed themselves into a sphere. Then with a pop, the sphere burst like a balloon.

A girl in a blue bondage dress and a man in all black stood in its wake.

It was Alice Carroll, the Fremd Torturchen, and Lewis, the mixed-race rebel.

For some reason, Alice was pouting with her cheeks puffed up. She glared at Elisabeth. Lewis cast his expressionless gaze toward La Christoph, then murmured quietly to the saint on death’s door.

“For your edification, as well as his… Yes, this was all part of my scheme. It’s a great shame, though, La Christoph. I really did believe that you and I could become friends. None of that was a lie. Yet you chose to flee with Elisabeth and slaughter the babies. Given the nature of saints, it’s perfectly reasonable we weren’t able to see eye to eye, but…there’s still just one thing I can’t for the life of me make sense of.”

“What might that be?”

“Your compensation. The reward you felt was worth destroying the world and betraying all creation for. You told me that the world was going to end regardless, but there was something you wanted to obtain before it did.”

Elisabeth nodded slightly. It made sense that they’d offered La Christoph compensation as well.

As Lewis talked, the stench of rotting flesh grew ever stronger. The skin sloughed off La Christoph’s fingers. However, neither of them seemed to be in much of a hurry. Lewis posed his question with the utmost sincerity.

“What exactly were you planning on asking me for? Please do tell me before you rot away.”

“A star.”

“What?”

“I was going to ask you for a star.”

It wasn’t just Lewis—Elisabeth, Lute, and Aguina all looked utterly baffled as well.

The request wasn’t just impossible; it was flat-out nonsensical. It certainly wasn’t something one could demand in exchange for destroying the world and betraying all creation. And it wasn’t something that made sense for a saint to want, either. It was like the kind of silly thing a child would dream up.

La Christoph offered no particular reaction to their shock. He simply went on, his voice unfailingly tranquil.

“Back when you asked me what I wanted, a memory from before I was canonized suddenly welled up inside me. It was night, and I had glanced up above the walkway’s covering. I don’t know what season it was. I don’t know what happened before or after. But for a moment, a fragment of that scene spread in front of me like a painting. I saw the beautiful stars speckling the clear night sky, and I remembered how, on that day in my childhood, I wanted one of them for myself.”

“…That sounds like little more than a trifling whim.”

“Is it, though? Up until I remembered that, I had never once felt a single earthly desire, such to the point where it caused me to doubt whether or not I was really even human. Yet it turned out that even I once cradled something akin to a wish.”

La Christoph spoke almost as though he were talking about someone else. He blinked. The moment his swollen eyelids opened back up, his left eye spilled out and fell to the ground. Undeterred, he asked his question with a childish earnestness.

“Well, my friend? Had I made the request, would you have been able to grant it?”

The answer, of course, was no.

It was a fundamentally impossible wish to grant. Lewis remained silent. La Christoph smiled, his empty eye socket in full view, then spoke once more. This time, his voice was that of an adult lecturing a child.

“We all are foolish creatures. We let greed blind us, we let fear sway us, we let death terrify us, we lose sight of God, we neglect our prayers, and we commit sins for selfish ends. Yet so, too, are we taken with absurd notions such as wishing for stars. That’s simply the kind of beings we are. Abstract and fleeting as they are, we see beauty in beautiful things, and it inspires us to dream. Would you deny even that foundation and cast it into the void? Would you place shackles on those who’ve yet to sin?”

“Please stop talking. That’s enough. You and I will never see eye to eye; that’s abundantly clear to me now. You needn’t strain your throat any further before you rot away completely. I’m sure just breathing is painful enough.”

“You speak of my pain, but…have you truly considered what it means to judge even the sinless? Are you truly prepared to accept the gravity of destroying the potential for children to look up at the sky and dream?”

“I said, that’s enough!”

“Will it be enough to satisfy you, my friend? O ye who called me, La Christoph, a friend.”

There was no reproach in the decaying saint’s voice, only sincere concern. After all, there was no way to sate the hunger that was vengeance. Only hell awaited those who tried.

However, Elisabeth knew he was being naive. Lewis’s response was immediate.

“I’m just as much a living corpse as you are. Satisfaction was never my aim. But as things are, I cannot die. That’s all.”

No matter how hard he struggled, he would never find salvation. Lewis himself admitted that, just as Elisabeth had expected him to. He had chosen the path of vengeance after having his forgiveness utterly betrayed. He hated the world and, as such, had decided to destroy it. He knew his wounds would never heal, but he had no choice but to fight on anyway.

Even if it meant nobody would be saved.

Upon hearing the avenger’s words, La Christoph shook his head.

“Then this is what I have to say—to you, and to all the other sinners, may you find salvation.”

Suddenly, La Christoph moved his arms. His white bones were stained with bits of flesh and exposed all the way from his palms to his wrists. Trembling, he raised his torso upright.

Inside his rib cage, the skylarks were violently flapping about. They could sense their keeper’s imminent death. In stark contrast, though, La Christoph himself wove his words together leisurely. Hearing that, the skylarks grew still.

“We gather and wait.”

“Father…”

Alice’s voice was stiff as she looked to Lewis for guidance. Meanwhile, La Christoph continued his prayer. As he did, the situation inside his ribs took on an even greater change—the skylarks were melting much the way his flesh was.

“I bow before thee and make now my humble entreaty.”

…Hmm?

Suddenly, a chill ran through Elisabeth. La Christoph’s prayers were a way to convey his will to his divine beasts, and through them, God, whom he was directly connected to. The specific words he used weren’t important.

As such, he would often make minor changes to them to reflect the situation. But that very clearly wasn’t what was going on this time. La Christoph continued his appeal, stretching his prayer longer and longer.

“Hear me, O Lord. I offer up my body and prayer as praises unto thee, kneeling before you and prostrating myself that I might make my request. Please grant mercy unto all those who ask for forgiveness.”

Those…those are the Words of a Sacrificial Lamb.

Elisabeth could sense it. It was a saint’s final prayer they would ever direct toward God.

And it marked the moment of their death.

As he spoke, his connection to God grew stronger than his flesh could withstand. The dissolved skylarks began melting together as viscously as honey. The resulting liquid had a glossy golden sheen, and it gushed out of his ribs and began coursing through his frail veins. The divine beasts were encroaching on La Christoph’s body and filling him to the brim.

It was an utterly horrifying transformation.

Lewis silently gave Alice’s back a little push. Her eyes flashed, just like they had once before.

“Why yes, that’s right—bad little boys don’t get to come to our tea party!”

Alice flicked her wrist, and a teaspoon manifested out of the air. She clearly intended to kill La Christoph before he could launch his attack. Elisabeth and Lute got ready to intercept.

But then something happened the moment before her little hand could catch the teaspoon.

“Huh?”

Whiff.

Alice’s wrist passed it by, then continued on through the air in a straight line. Her arm had been sliced clean off.

The teaspoon clattered to the ground. Elisabeth blinked, as did Lute. Neither of them fully comprehended what it was they’d just witnessed.

And Alice, it seemed, was no different. She gazed at her arm and the blood gushing from it and let out a bewildered cry.

“Huh? What? Huh? I’m fine, but it hurts all the same. Who did—? Hweh!”

“Alice, I know it hurts, but you can’t let your confusion distract you. Fall back.”

Lewis retrieved Alice’s arm by snatching it out of the air, then used his other hand to grab Alice by the hem of her dress and pull her backward. Not a moment later, a sharp blade carved a second slice through the air right where her head had been just a second before.

The blade’s wielder was neither Elisabeth nor Lute. It was a third party, one who looked remarkably familiar.

At some point, an oddly familiar figure had appeared before Alice and Lewis.

They were short, and their body was covered in tattered black rags. Their face wasn’t visible beneath their hood, but there was a dagger faintly peeking out of the edge of their sleeve. And it was a dagger Elisabeth recognized well.

It was the dagger a certain man had once used to slice his own arm off.

“…Butcher?”

The words dribbled weakly from Elisabeth’s lips. Lute gasped in disbelief. However, the figure offered no reaction. From beneath their rags, they silently kicked at the ground a few times.

Red blood raced across the floor, then formed a circle around Elisabeth and Lute. Darkness and flower petals began gushing up into the air as a teleportation circle traced itself at their feet. Elisabeth, immediately realizing what was going on, ground her teeth.

You would have us flee?! Aye, the situation calls for retreat. But—!

La Christoph’s bombardment was going to be stronger than ever before. Being in the same room as him was hardly an option. Now that there was no risk of him getting killed before his attack could go off, escaping was the prudent course of action. La Christoph had no doubt made the choice he had out of a belief that the two of them would be able to get out on their own in time. However, leaving this bizarre situation as it was wasn’t the greatest plan, either. In spite of that, though, the teleportation circle began activating on its own. Lute made to dash out.

In a flash, Elisabeth reached her verdict. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back to her side.

“La Christoph! …Rgh, Madam Elisabeth, why?! La Christoph’s going to—!”

“No. Stay. If we flee the circle now, we’ll never make it out in time. We shan’t know what’s happening, nor whose work this was, but…we can’t stand to lose any more valuable personnel.”

“But—!”

“La Christoph is already dead. If your sole objective is to save him, you’d best cast it aside. All it will bring about is more bodies.”

Elisabeth’s voice was cold and hard. Lute gulped and went silent. With his shoulder still in her hand, he ground his fangs and stopped trying to move. Meanwhile, Elisabeth continued staring at the dark figure’s back.

The short, tattered-clothed figure stooped over a little. They were looking at La Christoph, and when they did, the saint seemed to see inside the figure’s hood. His remaining right eye went wide.

His collapsing face curled into a grotesque smile.

Seeming somehow relieved, he let out a murmur.

“Ah… So…y…ou………came…”

As disjointed and faltering his voice was, it sounded remarkably calm. The next moment, his right eye rapidly swelled up from within and ruptured. Blood and putrefaction fluid dribbled down his cheek like tears. Elisabeth shifted her gaze toward Alice.

Alice was in the middle of struggling to reattach her severed arm. Plus, La Christoph’s body was about to give out. Now was their only chance. However, she was aware that La Christoph’s consciousness would be hazy, so she knew she had to call out to him.

Even though she also knew that doing so would spell his death.

“La Christoph, now!”

“…Ah…yes. Thank you…for telling…me. I will put an end…to this.”

The Torture Princess had told the dying man to die.

La Christoph opened his mouth and spoke with unbelievable clarity. He imbued his prayer with his firm will as he brought it to its close.

His closing words were ludicrous, a prayer that would never be granted.

“—And may salvation find us all.”

Suddenly, his back split open. Flesh and spine came bursting out, and a voice outside the range of human perception split the air. Something had broken free from the cage that was La Christoph and was beginning to take flight.

A pair of golden wings unfurled.

They belonged to a massive bird, larger than even the ones La Mules had once wielded.

Appearing to have deemed La Christoph’s innards a hindrance, it sprayed them across the room. As it did, a red wall rose up to obscure Elisabeth’s vision.

Yet even so, she saw it all the same.

When the man who’d devoted his life to prayer and devotion met his end, it was hideous, gruesome, and surprisingly tranquil.

La Christoph quietly closed what little remained of his eyelids.

His face was that of one who didn’t doubt for a moment that his prayer had reached God.

And his expression was that of a boy looking up at the stars.

He smiled—

—knowing that God was with him.