Fremd Torturchen - Volume 9 - Chapter 2

2

Chaos Returns

Long ago, the Saint thought once more in that blank, white world.

Why had she tried to save them all?

Given how things had turned out, it couldn’t be described as anything other than a flight of fancy driven by a serious case of arrogance and conceit. A fatal mistake, one brought about by the sense of omnipotence that accompanied the possession of great power. Yet in her heart of hearts, she couldn’t bring herself to consider what she had tried to do as worthy of scorn or rebuke.

It had been clear as day that if she hadn’t done anything, the world would have fallen into ruin.

And it was just as evident that, even knowing that fact, nobody else had tried to act.

That was why she had fought on her own for so long.

To save them all.

However, she had been assailed by profound regrets.

After all, what had she been left with after salvation had been carried out?

In the end, what of hers, what of anyone’s had she been able to save?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Just like when she was young, she hadn’t been able to save anything.

But this, this now—this was different.

It was an inelegant conclusion, to be sure. And it had come far too late. People might well point fingers and laugh at her.

But that was fine.

She had finally regained that which she had forgotten.

And she had managed to salvage one thing from that long, long suffering and those many, many failures.

She had protected that which the child she abandoned loved.

In the end, perhaps she merely wanted someone to say it to her. Perhaps she wanted to think it about herself.

Thank you so much for being born.

At long last, the solitary genius realized that,

and in doing so, the Saint finished carrying her burden.

That, and that alone,

was enough to give meaning to her entire tragedy—her entire farce.

“And I lived happily ever after.”

A new miracle had taken place, and the Capital was saved. However, things were far from over.

All those who hadn’t borne witness wanted to know the truth.

What had just happened exactly?

And just what kind of peril was confronting the world?

It was imperative that they explain the events to the young king Maclaeus Filliana. Powerful people were going to come to him looking for answers. The Church, in particular, was going to be abuzz like a poked beehive.

It made sense, after all. The Saint had sacrificed herself and gone willingly to her death. It wasn’t hard to imagine how people would react to something like that.

Elisabeth knew all that, but she chose to neglect her reporting duties regardless.

The Saint may have completely stopped her in her tracks, but the time that buys us is limited. ’Twould make for a fine joke if I were to spend that time all tied up alongside Izabella.

The Saint had turned her life into a precious hourglass. There were a million things they needed to do while the Saint held Alice at bay at their teleportation destination, and their sand was running out.

Elisabeth started out by having Izabella give her info on all the towns and villages she’d gotten distress calls from.

Then she left the plaza, which was still astir regarding the miracle, and put down the remaining demon grandchildren and fixed batteries as fast as she could. With their foes in disarray, now was their best chance to thin their ranks and cut off the accumulation of pain at the source.

As she did, she sent out a message.

I presume the Saint is fighting Alice and her company at the spot where she herself was sealed away—the abyss in the World’s End. The question becomes, then, how should we—how can we—spend this time she’s bought us?

Elisabeth looked at the ceiling as she sank into thought. It was adorned with living flowers.

After teleporting and teleporting and teleporting some more, she had ultimately made her way to a darkened manor.

Its long hallways were coated in a thin layer of dust. She leaned clandestinely against the white wall.

Then she silently watched the flowers daintily sway as she waited for her message’s recipients to reply. Suddenly, though, she heard a laugh that sounded almost human boom from close by.

She cast her gaze in the corresponding direction, then scoffed as she spotted a particularly dense patch of darkness.

“Hello, Kaiser. And what exactly have you been doing all this time? Lazing about, no doubt.”

“What an insolent tongue you have, foolish child. Would you like me to make offal of it? Perhaps I should just crush your skull between my jaws,” the Kaiser replied.

He revealed himself from the darkness and melted into view. He was a black dog the size of a small cow, and he flashed his jagged fangs. Elisabeth, wholly undaunted, just gave him another scoff.

“Ha. If you wish to try me, then by all means, do so. Unlike your former contractor Kaito, you’ll find me a good deal harder to gobble down—as you’re well aware. Now, I ask you again. What is it you’ve been doing?”

“The stage wasn’t suitable for me, is all. A more fitting moment is yet to come. So to kill time, I was simply watching people suffer. You know, like going out to watch a show.”

Geh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh, fu-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh, geh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh.

The Kaiser laughed, his voice shrill and cacophonous. Elisabeth shrugged.

In truth, her comments had been toothless.

She knew full well that the Kaiser’s presence wouldn’t have been enough to tip the scales. He could have forced Alice into a war of attrition like the Saint did, and perhaps he would have done an even better job than she had. However, it was as he said. Doing so would have taken him off the board for good.

And besides, no mere human could give orders to the Kaiser and expect him to follow them anyhow.

As yet, ’tis still unclear who his contractor is, and his aims are just as opaque.

Elisabeth stared intently at the Kaiser’s sable frame. She was on the verge of asking him the answers to those questions, but he spoke first, cutting her off as though to say he couldn’t be bothered explaining himself.

“I have a question for you, foolish child.”

“And what might that be? I must say, I never took you for the inquisitive type.”

“It’s true. I’m not, by nature, but something about the situation piqued my curiosity.”

The black dog slapped the ground lightly with his sleek tail.

The hellfire in his eyes flickered. Looking at him, he seemed like one who had transcended mortal understanding, yet the words the supreme hound spoke next had a shockingly human feel to them.

“The Accumulation of Seventeen Years’ Pain and the Saint both said some nonsense about this place being worth protecting. But this whole situation was caused by the discrepancies, oppression, and sorrow brought about by the living themselves. Even if you succeed in protecting the world, the grudges caused by those wounds will still fester. Destruction will continue to lurk just around the corner. Knowing that, do you truly believe that enough righteous ones will be born to overturn all that?”

“Nay. Not in the slightest,” Elisabeth declared without missing a beat.

The Kaiser squinted at her in surprise. In Elisabeth’s eyes, though, it was the only answer she could have given. The Saint may have been naive, but not her.

No, the Torture Princess knew. She knew that ignorance was a sin. She knew that the weak could commit horrendous acts without batting an eye. And she knew that even if they succeeded in saving the world, that as long as God and Diablo existed, it could fall back into ruin at a moment’s notice.

Yet even so…

She went on, dignified and true. “But I leave it in their hands regardless. As a sinner, I’m hardly in any place to lay bare the wickedness of the living and write them off as being fit solely for the grave. I’ve an obligation to keep the thread together, that others may yet try spinning it.”

Elisabeth had long since found her resolve, and it was still just as unwavering.

Those who owe their lives to another have a duty to fight.

Watching the Saint make her choice had made Elisabeth sure of that. She didn’t have time to waste falling into despair over everything that was wrong and broken.

She owed her life to Kaito Sena.

His love had saved her.

That meant that all of this, everything that was happening and everything that was going to happen, was her story.

Averting her eyes and passing the buck wasn’t an option.

“’Twas my choice to make, and I chose to see this fight through to its end.”

“Hmph. Playing the part of the peerless dunce, I see. Well, so be it. Will you be able to emulate that fool whose twisted mind remained clear to the end? Or will you drown in your hypocrisy and die? I look forward to… Hmm? Ah, they’re here. Well, I have no patience for squeaky little mice.”

With that, the Kaiser vanished. Elisabeth, now alone again, looked up.

She had told them that a message alone would suffice, but in spite of that, a teleportation circle was etching itself onto the ground before her eyes.

It wasn’t quite the same as the sort humans employed. Fire ran across it first, after which a cloud of red and white sand swirled up from its center. The two hues filled her view like a sand painting. Eventually, they hardened into a wall, cracked, and crumbled.

When they did, a dozen-odd beastfolk stood before her.

The copper-furred wolf standing at their center looked up. He gave her a courteous bow.

“Captain Elisabeth, the entire Peace Brigade is reporting for duty!”

They were Elisabeth’s soldiers,

her subordinates from the land of the beastfolk.

“I appreciate you coming all the way out to this fateful manor,” Elisabeth said. “As I suspected, the place is deserted. ’Tis the perfect spot for a clandestine meeting.”

The beastfolk nodded.

Asking them to come there of all places was in poor taste, to be sure, but given that she had a proper reason, none of them voiced any complaints.

Elisabeth stepped forward from the wall she’d been leaning against. In truth, it was no wall at all. It was the entrance to a room, packed tight with pale-silver ivy. The vines were cold, firm, and soft, like a corpse that was just coming out of rigor mortis. It reminded her of a graveyard. And that was exactly what it was.

They were in Vyade Ula Forstlast’s primary residence.

And they were standing before the throne room—the room she’d died in.

After her self-inflicted death, Alice and Lewis made their escape by destroying a nearby wall. However, the room’s actual entrance was pristine and untouched.

That was where Elisabeth had awaited Lute’s response. However, he and the rest of her men had foregone the use of a communication device and chosen to answer in person. Even though she’d conveyed her location to them, this was a turn of events she hadn’t foreseen.

Knowing what it likely implied, Elisabeth broke the ice.

She repeated the questions she had asked them in her missive.

“How fares the situation in the beastfolk lands? How is Vyadryavka? What states are the Three Kings of the Forest in?”

After Vyadryavka Ula Forstlast’s appeal to the Three Kings and their march on the hidden demi-human pureblood village, the Sand Queen’s awakening had dealt the beastfolk a harsh blow. Elisabeth didn’t have a great picture of how things had gone down for them after that.

Her soldiers exchanged looks with each other. Then three representatives from their ranks—one with a fox head, one with a dog head, and one with a bull head—stood at attention side by side.

The three of them answered her questions.

“To be blunt, Captain, the situation isn’t pretty. The surviving members of the imperial family are divided, and the people’s spirits are wearing thin. And Lord Vyadryavka Ula Forstlast is in similar straits. The Three Kings of the Forest made their choice, so there were initially talks about letting him off the hook, but now…”

“For now, he’s being monitored and held under temporary house arrest. It’s hard for us to say what will become of him.”

“As for the Three Kings of the Forest, they’ve suffered grievous wounds and are having difficulty even moving. There are many who fear the Sand Queen will strike again, and it’s given rise to a level of unrest our nation has never seen. There are some who want us to go on the offensive so we can avenge the Three Kings of the Forest, and others who even want us to offer the demi-humans our unconditional surrender.”

“Not even the honorable beastfolk are immune, then? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but…all that would accomplish is to delay their inevitable ruin.”

Elisabeth sighed. There was a faint glimmer of grief in her eyes.

No matter the nation, the masses were always like a single sprawling ruler.

The things they thought and said had profound effects on the rest of the board. For how could they not? And the thing that always shook them most was their fear of death.

Nobody wanted to die.

And sometimes, that meant they were willing to sacrifice anything.

The situation was just as unstable as she’d feared. Her sheep-headed subordinate was the next to speak up, his voice restless. “We serve the Torture Princess, Madam Elisabeth Le Fanu. We’re not ashamed of that. However, the members of Lady Valisisa Ula Forstlast’s private army have been asking a lot of questions about the immoderate support we’ve been giving mankind and the search we conducted for Satisbarina’s son. Up until now, we’ve been standing fast at the World Tree to defend the Three Kings of the Forest, but when you sent your message, we came as fast as we could. Captain…what do you think’s going to become of the beastfolk? What will become of the world?”

“On that front, I have news both good and bad.”

Elisabeth raised two fingers.

She had no intention of letting the question linger, so she went ahead and revealed both pieces of information without giving her men so much as time to brace themselves.

“The situation has changed. Due to the Fremd Torturchen Alice Carroll awakening and going on a rampage, the world once more finds itself faced with obliteration. On the other hand, in all likelihood, the demi-humans and mixed-race folk are no longer our foes.”

The declarations sent a stir through her subordinates’ ranks. They flashed confused gazes at each other. It was a natural reaction. Just a single day prior, they and the demi-humans and mixed-race folk had been trying to kill each other. And what’s more, Alice had originally been on the mixed-race people’s side. However, Elisabeth was sure of her statement on all counts.

With Lewis dead, Alice feels she has no place to go back to. Her father was the only thing she held any real attachment to. And besides, the mixed-race folk would never have allowed her to use the weapons Lewis crafted in the manner she did. It holds, then, that they never gave her their leave. Yet she’s using them all the same.

There was a story there, and one that Elisabeth suspected involved bloodshed. The Fremd Torturchen had done something to her own allies and given her declaration about it being time for “everyone to die together,” Elisabeth suspected that the first ones she had made sacrifices of were the mixed-race folk themselves. That, and any demi-humans who happened to be present.

A truly pure heart made no exceptions.

Sometimes, innocence could be the most horrifying thing imaginable. Elisabeth went on. “We have to act now, while Alice is out of the picture. We need the Sand Queen on our side. The time for pleasant infighting has passed. By the sound of it, though, the beastfolk are in no state to negotiate. As such…”

Elisabeth paused for a moment. She took a deep breath. Whether or not the deed was possible was yet to be seen. However, an attempt had to be made. And with the Saint gone, the task fell to her replacement.

When Elisabeth continued, she made sure her conviction rang in every word.

“…I shall go and persuade the demi-humans and mixed-race folk.”

A new herald of the end had appeared, and the arrival of a common enemy made for the perfect opportunity to negotiate a cease-fire.

It was craven, in a sense, and comical to boot,

but that was just how the world worked.

Even in the midst of abject chaos, Elisabeth was still keeping tabs on her foes.

For one, she knew that the mixed-race folk were still using the hidden demi-human village as their base of operations.

It still had the Sand Queen’s protection, after all, so there was little need for them to pack up their bags and leave.

After fleeing from their historic rout, the other races had yet to so much as approach the settlement again. That said, Elisabeth knew where it was, so as long as she wasn’t afraid of getting attacked the moment she landed, she could still at least get there.

She chose to gamble on them having fallen too deep into disarray to intercept her.

However, nothing could have prepared her for what she found there.

It was an entirely different sort of hell than it had been when she last left.

“How could something like this even happen?”

“Who would have thought that the Sand Queen would—”

The Peace Brigade members’ voices were tinged with fear.

Elisabeth had tried to stop them, but they had accompanied her to the desert regardless. Not even her warning that “the battle that lies beyond will transcend mortal comprehension” had been enough to get them to back down. As far as Lute and the others were concerned, the scariest thing of all was the prospect of not being able to help. Now, though, they simply stood in blank shock.

The hidden village was located in the Dragons’ Graveyard. It was covered in its entirety in bones, and an overlarge dragon skull had been left to serve as its front gate. At the moment, though, there was a new colossus collapsed in front of it.

The sloping semicircle its frame formed atop the ground was like looking at a hill made of sand.

Its hardened scales were cracked, exposing the strangely elastic flesh beneath. Dark blood was pooled around it on the sand like oil. It was as though a black circle had been cut directly out of the desert.

Meanwhile, the head was marred by a peculiar-looking scar. It looked like it had been opened wide up, then closed again.

Elisabeth stood motionless before the grisly spectacle. She thought back to the quotes from the poem she’d once looked into.

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

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

The people loved the Sand Queen. They revered her. And that was why they had made use of her corpse.

They had forced it back into motion, and this was the result of their efforts.

The Sand Queen lay before Elisabeth and her men, now dead twice over.

“Or to be more precise, her magical reactor was destroyed with great precision,” Elisabeth amended her thought as she looked at the corpse’s chest. It was a mystery what had caused the head wound. Whatever killed the Queen, though, it must have been a single blow. Not even Alice would have survived a protracted clash with her.

Elisabeth shook her sand-battered hair off her shoulders and gave a small nod.

“Lewis was the one who aided the demi-humans in their engineering efforts to analyze the Sand Queen’s corpse. Alice would have been with him, so it stands to reason that she would know the Sand Queen’s weak spots. If she caught the Queen by surprise, a carefully placed lance strike from that White Knight of hers could well have gotten the job done. That said, the wound on the head is closed up. Did she fail to down the Sand Queen with her initial strike, then?”

Elisabeth tried approaching the corpse, but she quickly stopped in her tracks. Thousands of little bubbles were floating on the black blood’s surface. She tried popping one with the tip of her toe, and her shoe melted a little. It wasn’t hard to imagine what would have happened if she’d set foot in it.

Lute shook his head, then cautioned her. “Best not to, I think. Even if we got close, the Sand Queen’s body is too much for us to handle.”

“Aye, true enough. Without appropriate tools of some sophistication, we’ve little chance of gleaning anything of note from her.”

Elisabeth frowned as she let out a sigh. The magical devices she was capable of summoning were first-rate, but they only served the purpose of torturing people. And besides, even understanding the Sand Queen’s corpse was easier said than done.

She was like the Three Kings of the Forest. No matter how long you looked at her, keeping a coherent mental image of her in her entirety was nigh impossible.

Her springy flesh, her chipped, jewel-like scales, the grim cut across her head, and her claws submerged in the lake of blood were all perfectly comprehensible on their own. However, it was impossible to picture them as a whole. Furthermore, the corpse’s expression was unseeable. It was anyone’s guess as to whether her second rest was a peaceful one. That said, the fact of the matter was that she was dead.

Even pondering such a question was an act of pointless sentimentality.

The question is, what are those who yet remain doing?

With the Sand Queen dead, the hidden village was back to being as good as defenseless. To lose her was to lose their shield and their sword at the same time. Yet despite the emergency it was facing, the settlement was dead quiet.

The horrors within must have been far beyond Elisabeth’s expectations.

However, even realizing that wasn’t enough to shake her. She spoke succinctly. “Let’s go.”

“We’re right there with you, ma’am,” Lute replied.

However, Elisabeth didn’t so much as cast a glance his way before setting off. The decision to follow her or not was theirs to make. She threw the dragon skull’s mouth open.

Then she walked straight forward. Her men wordlessly came along after her.

And with that, they went in.

Into the chaos that awaited them—into Wonderland.

There were corpses.

There were corpses. There were bodies. There were remains. There were carcasses.

There were corpses melted like butter, corpses sprinkled with pepper, corpses seated for a tea party, corpses with their heads cut off, corpses drowned in a sea of tears, corpses packed into buildings, corpses that had fallen off walls.

The sheer number of bodies was almost comical.

Demi-humans and mixed-race people alike had been killed without distinction.

The mixed-race people suffered heavy casualties during the Three Kings’ invasion, but none of those victims had been made into macabre displays like this. By Elisabeth’s estimation, these ones had been picked off soon after their victory.

The desert had no shortage of places where one could cremate and store bodies. However, all of these had simply been left out in the open.

The bodies sat splayed out like they were nothing more than objects. Strangely, though, each one had been offered a tiny display of mercy.

Someone had gone and placed a blue flower atop each and every one of them.

A tiny prayer, perhaps, for the dead.

And that was the scariest part of all.

“It can’t be… Did any of them survive?”

Elisabeth shook her head. “I know not. Many fled, I imagine. That said, I’ve yet to find any survivors.”

Lute’s tail curled up. He had known that before even asking, but he simply didn’t want to believe his own eyes.

Alice was acting completely within expectations.

However, that didn’t make what she’d done any less deranged.

The two of them arrived at a section of the settlement that had avoided getting hit by the fire during the Three Kings’ attack. However, everyone they passed was still dead. And it wasn’t just the main residences, either. Even the underground bunkers that the human-beastfolk army missed during the battle had been cracked wide open, and the people who’d fled there for shelter had been butchered as well.

It reminded Elisabeth of her birthplace. Those who lived surrounded by walls made for perfect fodder, and it was in just such a town that Elisabeth had once gorged herself on pain. Although the people here had been given much quicker paths to death, what they’d been subjected to was much the same thing.

It was a sin of the most depraved sort.

Loathsome Elisabeth, repulsive Elisabeth!

Cruel, hideous Elisabeth!

Those old, familiar cries of hatred sounded deep in Elisabeth’s eardrums. Here, though, there was no one to even scream.

At the same time, she was reminded of a woman.

Namely, she was reminded of a lizard-headed noblewoman—Aguina’s wife, Satisbarina Elephabred. When she gave Elisabeth the settlement’s location, she made Elisabeth make her a promise.

Elisabeth could still remember exactly what she’d said to her.

“Those who boast of knowing love cannot well make light of the love of others. Such is the oath I demand of you.” “When you find my son and his wife, I ask that you vow not to forsake them.” “I cannot…will not allow harm to come to them.”

How would she lament if she saw this grim spectacle, I wonder?

Elisabeth shook her head. A slight shadow came over her expression, but speaking as the Torture Princess, the total annihilation here was actually a decent outcome for them. With the Sand Queen gone, there was little value to be found in reconciling with the demi-humans and mixed-race folk. This way, there was one less thing she needed to worry about.

That said, Elisabeth’s instincts were as sharp as a knife, and they were telling her a different story.

Something seems amiss… Can I really write this off so simply?

She cast her crimson gaze downward and sank into thought.

As she did, her dog-headed subordinate with the black-and-white-spotted fur rushed over to her and dutifully remembered to salute.

When he gave his report, his tail was standing on end, and he was clearly trying to suppress the emotion in his voice.

“Captain, we’ve finished checking the temple that was damaged in the battle, and we have good news! It has a sanctuary modeled off the one in the demi-human pureblood sector, and not only did it avoid the fire, its wards kept it intact in its entirety. There are no signs it was ever opened by force. Quick, ma’am, this way!”

“Very well. Let’s go.”

Elisabeth gave him an immediate nod. Her instincts were telling her to follow him, and follow him she did.

The settlement had no palace, so it was the path to the temple instead that was dyed vermilion. Painted atop that hue, there was an intricate array of other vibrant colors. It was an illustrated depiction of the demi-humans’ history.

Her high heels chipped at the paint as her thoughts turned.

Deep inside the demi-human Sand Temple, there was a hexagonal sanctuary adorned with gold and jewels. By the sound of it, the temple here had a similar space, though they probably enshrined holy relics there instead of the Sand Queen’s corpse. Only a scant few demi-humans would have even known how to open it.

The slightest pangs of hope beat in Elisabeth’s and the Peace Brigade’s chests as they hurried onward.

Would there be survivors inside?

And even if there were, would they be too scared to function?

Elisabeth and the others had no way of knowing. But they hoped all the same.

“Looking at this… Is there not a fair chance that those inside were annihilated as well?”

The moment they got there, Elisabeth immediately feared the worst.

There was a bittersweet smell wafting through the air. Alice had probably gotten bored and given up on destroying the sanctuary, but instead, she had pumped it full of poison. Getting done in by a poison they themselves had developed was an ironic way for the mixed-race people to go. In a way, though, it was also fitting. However, her black-and-white-spotted subordinate shook his head in disagreement.

“There’s something unnatural about how the lingering fumes are concentrated. They’re thinner in the area around the sanctuary, but that’s not the way air is supposed to flow. Someone inside must have taken countermeasures against the poison.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you for bringing it up. I lack the olfactory precision to pick up on such details. Shall we open it, then?”

Elisabeth quickened her pace. The sound of their footsteps echoed off what bone pillars remained. There was still no reaction from inside the sanctuary—and that made Elisabeth and the Peace Brigade let down their guards.

A harsh wham split the air.

The door to the sanctuary flew open far more violently than it ever would have in peacetime, and someone rushed out like a loosed arrow.

He took the object he was holding and thrust it forward. Elisabeth’s wolf-headed subordinate suddenly found something hard and metal in his mouth, and the man followed up by sweeping his legs out from under him. The wolfman did a half spin, and the man planted himself squarely on the wolfman’s chest.

The man’s movements were skillful, but more than anything, it was his weapon that impressed Elisabeth.

The weapon in question was a rifle.

The demi-humans were masters of metalworking, and they had already developed functional firearms. However, there were still a lot of kinks to work out before they could mass-produce them. At the moment, there were only a small number of prototypes out in the world, and they were owned solely by members of the aristocracy. In short, the comfort with which their new acquaintance was handling his rifle meant that he must have been a big deal, even among the high-grade purebloods.

Elisabeth took another good look at him.

The man was a male demi-human with the head of a lizard, and his slender build, golden eyes, and vermilion scales looked somehow familiar.

Could it be? Is he—?

“Nobody move!” the man shouted. “Not unless you want this guy to die!”

“Randgrof Elephabred! You’re alive!”

Elisabeth was about to say his name, but Lute beat her to the punch.

Randgrof Elephabred.

That was Aguina and Satisbarina’s son.

If beastfolk faces were difficult to tell apart, demi-humans were nigh impossible. However, it would seem their suspicions were true.

Upon hearing Lute’s shout, the man—Randgrof—looked up and frowned in puzzlement.

“Who are you…and why do you know my name? Do we know each other?”

“I can answer that,” Elisabeth replied. “I come at the behest of Satisbarina Elephabred.”

“My mother? Why?”

“She asked that I ensure your safety, and we’ve been searching for you since the Three Kings began their march. Now calm yourself and look around. This place is filled with corpses as far as the eye can see. Who would come to do you harm? Any foes of yours would simply depart and leave you to your lot. Know where it is you stand,” she said coolly.

The provocative wording was a considered choice on her part. Knowing that she was talking to Satisbarina’s son, she judged it would have the desired effect. After showing a quick flash of anger, Randgrof lowered his rifle.

Sure enough, rage was the fastest way to get through to him. He got up off Elisabeth’s subordinate and offered him an apologetic bow. Then, having realized who the group’s leader was, he came over to Elisabeth.

The Torture Princess’s crimson eyes narrowed. Randgrof’s silken clothes were smeared with blood.

Then, with a shudder, Randgrof dropped his gun. He crumpled to his knees. “Thank goodness… Thank goodness you’re here. Please, I’m begging you, you have to come in. This place is sacred to our people. I would normally bar you, but now I welcome you with open arms. That was too close… A little longer, and we’d have…”

“What happened? Pull yourself together. What exactly is going on in there?”

Elisabeth helped Randgrof up. The man was scared stiff. However, Alice had long since left. Whatever it was he was afraid of, it wasn’t her. Randgrof shook his head and continued his desperate plea.

The words came out more as sobs than anything else.

“Any longer and we would’ve started killing each other.”

At that, Elisabeth and her men couldn’t help but exchange some glances.

Despair was a funny thing.

Sometimes, it robbed people of their ability to make rational decisions.

Given the circumstances, though, acting rationally was hardly that important.

The mixed-race people had spent many long months and years plotting their rebellion against the world. They wanted to see their wish through to fruition, even if it meant making foes out of everyone else. However, there was one important fact they overlooked.

The Fremd Torturchen didn’t share that fervent desire of theirs.

The only thing she held was a deep-seated affection for the man who called her his daughter. Granted, she was quite fond of her other allies, but therein lay the tragedy. To Alice and Lewis both, those people they held dear were nothing more than people they felt ought to die alongside them. In Alice’s eyes, killing the survivors was an act of mercy.

Thus, all it took was a child’s grief to shatter the mixed-race people’s dearest desire.

Many of them were given the “kindness” of having their lives taken.

But the bigger issue, the problem now at hand was…

…what are those misfortunate enough to survive to do from here?

They’d made enemies of the world, they had no homeland to return to, and if they fled, they would be doing so in disgrace. Their failure was despair-inducing in its totality.

Their rebellion had brought about doom, just not in the way they’d wanted.

They had repented, and they had hated, and now their dream was over.

They had no more reason to live. Even that had been taken from them.

All of that had led them to where they were—in the sanctuary. The mixed-race people were pushing to die by mass suicide, and naturally, the demi-humans were refusing to go quietly. Most of them had been nothing but hostages, and even the traitors among their ranks at least had a homeland that would take them back. They had no reason to play along, and so life and death were being forced to vie for supremacy in a tiny, isolated space.

Whenever that happened, there could only be one outcome.

People would start brutally killing one another.

However, the arrival of their unexpected visitors put a temporary halt to the brewing violence. The Torture Princess followed Randgrof into the tense room, then took advantage of both sides’ bewilderment to start haughtily giving out orders.

Beneath the temple, there was a small room for its grave keeper.

It was there that Elisabeth took Randgrof and a representative from the mixed-race people and set up a meeting.

The other survivors were even farther underground, in a stone room surrounding a bed of vitreous sand. It was modeled after the Sand Queen’s chamber and was similarly massive. Inside, mixed-race folk were huddled up tight with mixed-race folk, and demi-humans with demi-humans, yet even so, the chamber was packed nearly to capacity.

Elisabeth commented on the head count.

“Three hundred, give or take? I’m surprised to see so many.”

“Three hundred hid underground, and around the same number fled,” the middle-aged mixed-race man replied. “Take away the demi-humans, and we make up just half that number. And you call us many? The ranks for our rebellion against the world have been whittled down to a mere handful. Although, I suppose that’s a happy turn of events for you people.”

The man had the eyes of a human, the ears of a beastfolk, and the face of a demi-human. His cheeks were stretched taut over deep sword wounds, and he had scars from someone nearly ripping off his face. That alone was enough to get a glimpse at the depths of his despair. In spite of that, though, Elisabeth’s reply was blunt. “Unashamedly so, yes. Allow me to be concise. As I see it, there’s little reason for me to even negotiate here. However, it’ll be one fewer thing for me to have to think about, so I call for a temporary cease-fire. I vow to place your survivors under my protection. In exchange, I ask for information on Lewis’s legacy. Furthermore, I ask that you hand us custody of the living demi-humans here.”

When Elisabeth listed out her conditions, it earned her dubious looks from not just the mixed-race man, but from Randgrof as well. By the looks of it, he didn’t understand why she’d made the request she had about the demi-humans. However, Elisabeth had had a good reason for that.

If she wanted to help deescalate the situation, extending a gesture of goodwill to the demi-humans who’d never turned traitor was a good first step.

Furthermore, and more importantly, there was something weighing on her mind. “Randgrof, I have a question for you. Was your father… Was Aguina off somewhere else?”

“Father? No. After his betrayal, he joined up with the mixed-race folk and came here as well. That’s why he left my mother a message…or at least, I hear he did. I actually saw him a few times here myself.”

“What became of his corpse, then?”

“…Wait, you haven’t seen my father’s body?”

Elisabeth gave Randgrof’s shocked question a nod.

Randgrof went on with an expression that was somewhere between relief and bewilderment.

“Father didn’t escape with us; he continued evacuating purebloods until the very end. I had simply assumed he passed. I was sad about it, surely, but are you telling me he survived?”

“I know not. I find it hard to imagine he did, but then…”

Elisabeth shook her head. It was hard to picture Aguina fleeing the settlement and simply leaving that sea of corpses behind. That said, she couldn’t rightly say that she’d seen Aguina Elephabred’s corpse.

The death of the man who slew a saint

and could well be described as an enemy of the world was, as yet, unconfirmed.

Elisabeth obviously hadn’t gone around to check each and every corpse, but there was something else that she was confident about. If Aguina had been staring down death, he would have made sure to leave some sort of mark on the world. However, she had seen no such thing.

It begged the question, where did he go?

“In any case, I have my vow with Satisbarina to uphold. You’re coming with us.”

“Ah, um…right. I have to wonder, what exactly did my mother make you promise?”

Randgrof frowned. He probably knew full well just how tough Satisbarina was.

Elisabeth waited for the middle-aged man’s response, but the mixed-race representative persisted in his silence. It was a good ten seconds later that he finally moved. He inclined his head, and, in the same motion, shook it. “You can do what you want with the demi-humans…but I have no information to give you.”

“Interesting. Stubborn to the very end, then?”

“No, it’s simpler than that. I just don’t have anything I can tell you. I imagine Lewis already told you about the demon grandchildren, and you saw the fixed batteries for yourself. We have nothing valuable enough to bargain for our lives with. Our ambitions are broken, and our dearest wish lies dashed. This is as far as we go. There’s nothing more to it.”

“What are you saying?” Elisabeth asked.

“Consider yourselves lucky, demi-human. You get to live another day. Now take them and go. But us, our lives end here,” the man said matter-of-factly.

Elisabeth took a moment to stew on what he’d said. He was not speaking out of panicked desperation. He had just calmly made the decision that that was where he was going to die.

She raised an eyebrow and rested her chin on her hands.

“And your people are in consensus on that?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, but our despair is not something so easily forgotten. ‘Have you ever seen someone who was murdered?’”

It was nonsensical, asking a question like that to the Torture Princess. However, the mixed-race representative went on like a man possessed.

“‘Someone who was sold off? Someone who was violated? Someone who was robbed of all their dignity? Someone who was cast into despair? Someone who was dissected while they were still alive?’”

Have you ever seen someone get sacrificed and have it not weigh on their killers’ consciences in the slightest?

Have you ever seen someone be victimized in the name of justice and faith?

I’ll never forgive them. No matter who does. No matter if God himself does. No matter if even the dead do.

“‘I’ll never forgive them, even if I’m the only one,’” the old man said, giving voice to his resentment. Elisabeth could tell that the words weren’t his.

That was a speech that someone else had given. The mixed-race man exhaled, then confirmed her suspicions.

“That’s something Lewis said once. We were all following his malice. His hatred called forth the Fremd Torturchen, and we welcomed her gladly. And you can see where it got us. There’s no need for us to ‘slay as many of you as we can until the day of our ultimate defeat’ anymore. The girl’s going to kill everyone anyway. We’re all beyond help. If we went and shook hands with the very people we tried to kill just to eke out a tiny bit more life, what would that make us?”

Elisabeth didn’t respond to that. She simply barked an order. “Lute, go on down.”

Lute understood what she meant. He nodded, then left the room and headed for the stone chamber below.

He directed a forceful shout out into the crowd.

“If any mixed-race people want to leave with us, come this way! You have my word that no harm will come to you!”

The only reply he got was dead silence. Down in the murky darkness, the air was thick with anger and hopelessness.

It told Elisabeth all over again just how deep-seated their hatred of the world was.

Now that their rebellion had failed, they were turning all their destructive cravings inward.

If she were Kaito Sena, Elisabeth mused, this was where she would try to talk them out of it. There was no doubt in her mind that he would have used every argument he could have to try to save the oppressed. That was just the kind of good-natured guy he was.

But the Torture Princess was not him.

Elisabeth casually rose to her feet, then turned around and spoke.

“So be it. If you seek death, then be my guest. I can see I’m unneeded here, so I’ll merely take the demi-humans and be on my way.”

“We’re…saved? But…we’re the only ones who got saved…”

Randgrof’s murmur dripped with guilt. However, Elisabeth ignored him.

By nature, the Torture Princess was one who oppressed. She had no capacity to play the saint, and the prospect of her trying to get in good with the wounded was laughable. Elisabeth had no more attention to spare for those who resented the world.

The Torture Princess began walking as she spoke.

“I shan’t denounce your desire to end things. Let this bring a close to your hatred and your dreams.”

Resentment and sorrow and rage, despair and malice and suffering,

for better or for worse, they would all come to an end. In a sense, it was a sort of salvation.

It was sad, no doubt. It could be spoken of as pitiable. But the fact remained that death was a way for things to end. Elisabeth couldn’t deny that, and she knew that speaking of hope when there was none would be nothing more than a base act of deception.

She did, however, give Randgrof a dispassionate instruction.

“Leave them your gun. ’Tis a wretched sight when one tries to end their life by the blade and fails to finish the job.”

“Ah, right, okay. I’ll leave everything we have.”

Randgrof hurriedly acquiesced, gathering up the valuable weapons and piling them in the corner of the room.

The Peace Brigade began taking the demi-humans outside.

Cries of relief began rising up all over, and the middle-aged man made sure to tell the other mixed-race people not to interfere.

Elisabeth cast a single glance their way. Still no reaction. Their appearances were wildly varied, but all of them shared a common rejection of the world that lay ahead. Elisabeth left those who’d chosen death behind and set foot on the staircase.

And that’s when it happened.

A massive reeeet rang out

like the world itself was creaking.

The sanctuary started shaking. Chunks of rubble rained down from above. The vitreous sand scraped against itself, making it sound as though someone was screeching. It was as if the end of days had come again. However, it was too early for Alice to be back.

Elisabeth paused, perplexed at what was going on.

Not a moment later, the mixed-race man’s eyes went wide as he realized what was happening. He opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and his ugly scars shifted about as he cackled at the top of his lungs. His laughter echoed about like the cries of some avian portent of doom. “Oh, I see, I see, I see! You would go that far… You would take and grant even that?! Oh, you adorable girl! It’s to be death, then, death, death, death! An impartial massacre that casts aside every ideal we held true!”

His voice rang with considerable amusement as he kept on laughing the laugh of a man whose fraying sanity had finally snapped.

As the chaos swelled, Elisabeth thought back.

She thought about the awe-inspiring presence she’d felt that day.

And at the same time, she heard Alice’s words repeat in the depths of her memories.

“I didn’t move, you know. But despair did.”

Her voice had rung with ridicule,

as though mocking those who listened for expecting anything more of the world.

Off in the distance, they could hear a roar they’d heard once before.

Countless voices screamed, yet they were all one and the same.

Die. Die. Die. The time has come. I have found you with my eyes.

The heavens and earth shall be moved, and thou shalt come to judge the world by fire.

This day, day of wrath

calamity and misery

day of great and exceeding bitterness.

This day our master is resurrected.

Randgrof and Lute both moved to protect Elisabeth from the debris, but she shook them off and rushed outside. It was there that she witnessed the series of changes for herself.

A rain of black blood fell, and the toxic droplets melted the sand where they landed. Scales blurred as they healed, like the crystal once had when a pair of arms had extended from it.

Off in the distance, the grand titan—the one who had died, been forced to move again, then died once more—got up.

It was thrice now that the Sand Queen had acted. However, something about this time was different.

Her eyes swiveled, staring off restlessly in every direction.

They were the eyes of one who had lost their mind.

A corpse should have had no mind to lose, and that was enough for Elisabeth to discern what had changed.

That’s not the Sand Queen in there!

Upon further reflection, it was odd how half-cocked a job Alice had done of destroying the Sand Queen.

The Sand Queen was a fantastic weapon, but her mana had inherited her maternal nature toward the demi-humans.

That made her a threat to Alice. However, she was still valuable as a tool of mass destruction. Simply killing her would be a waste, and that left two options: destroy her completely…or change her.

What had Alice done, then?

The diabolical answer to that question roused itself within Elisabeth’s mind. If you wanted to modify a windup doll, all you had to do was bore a little hole, swap out the part you wanted, and fill the hole back up. And that was the exact same thing you did to a golem to implant a soul in it.

The setup they used to make the Sand Queen’s corpse move in the first place was similar to the way you would configure a stone golem. It stood to reason that Alice would be able to put a soul inside the Queen’s body, and the mixed-race folk she had been working with would have had all the appropriate tools needed to put that idea into practice.

On top of all that, Alice’s “whimsical” magic had a troublingly strong affinity for “playing with dolls.”

It was a challenging feat, one that any mage from their world would’ve been hard-pressed to achieve, but Alice had done just that. By inserting a new soul into the Sand Queen’s body, she had overwritten the nature of its mana. The rest was simply a matter of time. As soon as the soul became acclimated, the body would begin moving once more. It was unclear when the Sand Queen would break down, but until that moment, its rampage would continue unopposed.

That, then, posed a new question.

Who had Alice used?

Their ego would have been an impediment, so Alice would have made sure to destroy it first, but even so, she’d have wanted to pick someone clever enough to act of their own volition.

Someone capable of becoming an enemy of the world.

Elisabeth stood amid the destroyed houses with her mouth agape.

It was Lute, who had now caught up with her, who bellowed at the figure in the distance.

Perhaps it was his bestial sharpness that had let him realize who it was.

“AGUINA ELEPHABREEEEEEEEEED!”

The man who had believed so firmly that he was just

had been cruelly given up as a sacrifice.

Now it was he who served as the Sand Queen’s new broken mind.