eyes still red, he spoke a few words. "Sorry, that was kind of pathetic... I'm okay now." "Hmph, I saw nothing... Nay, I shall say this. 'Tis no shame in crying when one must." Kaito turned toward Elisabeth. She wasn't looking at him. She was staring off into space. Her lips upturned, she bluntly repeated herself. "'Tis no shame in crying when one must. Go ahead and cry." "Yeah, you're right... Thanks." Kaito laughed weakly and nodded. Then Elisabeth suddenly turned to look at him, her black hair fluttering. She frowned intensely. "Your smile is sickening." "Well, that's rude." "Indeed, but complimenting you would be far stranger! At any rate, excellent as my bedchambers are, I really ought to get around to repairing that window." "Can't you just fix it with magic?" It happened then, with the two of them having just begun their conversation. A shrill noise rang out, like something scraping against glass, and shattered their brief peaceful moment. Hearing the grating noise, Kaito called out. "Make it stop! It's gonna wake up Hina!" "Worry not. During the mending process, nothing can possibly wake her. But what is that noise?" A milky-white orb was racing above the forest. It was one of the Church's emergency contact devices, and it made its way through the broken window before stopping in front of Elisabeth and Kaito. Feathers plopped out of its sides. Then it reverted to an ordinary jewel and fell into Elisabeth's palm. Hundreds of glyphs raced across its surface. After deciphering the message, Elisabeth's eyes widened. Feeling an ominous premonition, Kaito nervously raised a natural question. "Elisabeth, what does it say?" "Oh my...this is a surprise, even to me. Even with the high odds I'd be done in by the Grand King, I can see why they sent for me." She shook her head side to side. Then she made a quiet announcement. "The capital is under attack, with as many as a third of its citizens having been slaughteredâ€”and Godd Deos numbers among the dead." Kaito swallowed hard. The capital held three-tenths of the population and was supposed to be a cornerstone for humanity's continued survival. And Godd Deos was a man who'd been in a position to trade his life to seal away the Torture Princess, if the need ever arose. Kaito himself had talked with him just a few days ago. If a man as powerful and important as that had been killed, just what state exactly was the capital in? As if in response to Kaito's inquisitive gaze, Elisabeth went on. "The capital has been practically destroyedâ€”at this rate, it and all the paladins will be annihilated." Her words rang in a new battle against the demons, as well as the beginning of the end. A Town Rejecting Death People were being devoured, livestock was gnawed to pieces, and buildings were getting chewed away. The capital was being eaten alive. There was no other way to describe the cruel simplicity of the events that were unfolding. One clear afternoon, a mass of flesh had suddenly exploded forth from the town's quiet, gloomy mercantile district. It had expanded rapidly, crushing countless buildings and swallowing up whole crowds of bystanders. Although the rotting meat's expansion eventually slowed, it was continuing to overrun the capital, which until the start of this catastrophe had boasted three-tenths of mankind's population and had been a center of commerce and politics. Those who had just barely avoided the first wave of expansion had frantically sought shelter. However, any who fell behind were soon swallowed up by the subsequent waves of undulating tissue. The elderly had desperately struck the mass with their canes, but their efforts were fruitless, and they were swallowed from their trembling ankles up. A dog tied to the eaves of a building barked as it was crushed beneath the advancing pulpy folds. Those too sick to move were engulfed, beds and all. And to add to their misfortune, the mass of flesh was alive. In other words, anyone consumed by it was either assimilated or transformed. The majority of its victims were still alive as they became fused with the writhing mass. The surface of its flesh was decorated with the faces of humans, beasts, fish, and bugsâ€”any and all living creatures that had been capturedâ€”like some sort of grotesque sculpture. The screams trickling from the victims' faces were bloodcurdling. Oooooooooooohhh... Oooooooooooohhh... Oooooooooooohhh... Their voices rang out with intense bitterness toward those who had survived. Those who avoided being assimilated soon found an equally harsh fate awaiting them. Their bodies were forcibly warped, ending only when they were ejected as underlings, emerging from the main body to capture prey, be consumed, and then sent forth again, each time being fused together and broken back down. Those who had once been human were hunting those who still were. All the city's inhabitants were forced to acknowledge the sheer hopelessness of the situation. That, after all, was what demons did. Powerless humans had no means with which to fight back. Even so, in order to survive, everyone tried their hardest to flee. A desperate fight raged in one corner of the capital. Several residents had escaped to a wide street, but underlings had caught up to the group containing most of the children. One bug-like underling swung its sickle-shaped arm and severed a number of their legs. The wounded, no longer able to flee, were dragged mercilessly toward the awaiting mass. Their desperate cries rang out. However, a strangely calm murmur cut through the noise of the street. "Reenactment of the Plain of Skewers: Impaled Victim." The voice was strong and elegant. Stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab, stab! Accompanying the voice was a cloud of dust and a noise loud enough to drown out the caustic howling. Hundreds of iron stakes impaled the underlings, raining a gruesome shower of blood onto the road. Trembling from the unexpected development, the people timidly looked up. "...Is she...the Saint?" someone muttered in amazement. A single young woman stood before them. She was beautiful and wore a provocative bondage outfit. Her appearance was like the coming of a messiah or perhaps a tyrant, and her lustrous black hair and dress with scarlet-dyed interior fluttered in the wind. Her chest was concealed by thin leather straps but was otherwise practically bare. Her erotic attire was a far cry from that of the Suffering Saint from the people's faith. However, the beauty and solemnity of the person who had arrived in that hell made it impossible to imagine her as anything but a hallowed figure. Hearing the people's supplicating voices, though, the woman scowled. "And just who do you think you're calling a saint? Hold your tongue if you're going to refer to me in such a repugnant manner!" The woman waved her hand as though shooing away a dog. Then she casually shifted her gaze from the group. As she turned to face the band of onrushing underlings, she clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Tch, more of them? To have your bodies twisted and warped against your will... How pitiful you creatures are. I shall grant you swift deaths, if naught else." She lifted her face to the sky and extended a pale hand. Swirling darkness and crimson flower petals materialized at her fingertips. Without hesitation, she thrust her hand into the center of the vortex. And from there, she drew a long sword. "Executioner's Sword of Frankenthal!" With a ringing voice, she called out the sword's name. As she did, the runes etched on its bloodred blade glinted. Their meaning was forcibly drummed into the minds of all who looked upon them. You are free to act as you will. But pray that God shall be your salvation. For the beginning, the middle, and the end all lie in the palm of His hand. "Nail Gun!" Shunk, shunk, shunk, shunk, shunk! As the woman swung her sword down, the darkness and crimson petals spiraled outward, and rusty nails appeared in their wake, burying themselves in the underlings' flesh. Chains wove like serpents, snaking their way through gaps in the spiral to mow down any who escaped. The people raised cheers of joy. However, the woman turned to shout at them in an icy voice. "Why have you stopped, you fools? It is the duty of the weak to flee. So flee. Do not turn to me. Do not rely on me. Do not look up to meâ€”who do you think I am?" With one hand on her hip and her crimson eyes shining, the woman gave her haughty introduction. "I am the Torture Princess, Elisabeth Le Fanu. I am the proud wolf and the lowly sow." The capital was a place where information gathered, and there was no shortage of educated people among its citizens. The tale of the Torture Princess was well-known, and the people gasped at her declaration. A heavy silence fell over the crowd. Someone timidly opened their mouth to speak but was interrupted. Gya-gya-gya-gya-gya-gya-gyaa! A strange, grating scream split the sky. New underlings began swooping down from the heavens. The massive, grotesque crowsâ€”whose bodies were riddled with eyeballsâ€”snatched people up from behind with their warped talons. Atrocious screams rang out before falling silent an instant later. "â€”La (dance)." A calm voice rang out, and a blade danced through the air. The underlings were all split in two, and their viscera pelted the earth. The people who'd narrowly avoided a grisly fate raised their voices in bewilderment. "...Wh-what just, who...? Whâ€”?" A woman who'd just been saved from the crows looked down at her bloodstained hands and lost her breath. The only person present who could truly understand what had happened was the Torture Princess. Assailed by confusion, the people began fleeing on their hands and feet. Then the sound of combat boots clicking against the ground echoed. The group froze. A young man had appeared before them. The hem of his black outfit, which was adorned with red thread, fluttered as he walked. The man was thin, and his left arm had been transformed into that of a beast. His faded brown hair had been tied back into a knot, and it matched the color of his eyes. He looked unnaturally composed. He turned toward the group, all of whom bore terrified expressions. However, he paid their reactions no heed, instead focusing on confirming with his stern gaze that no more attacks were forthcoming. As soon as he finished, he exhaled lightly and scratched his head, visibly relaxing. "Phew, looks like that worked... But damn, it still doesn't feel completely stable. How am I supposed to get better at this?" As he grumbled, he waved his right arm around like a conductor's baton. The blade that had just sliced apart the underlings drifted along and followed the path his hand had taken. The Torture Princess gave the hem of his outfit a quick yank. "You know, you're inspiring no small amount of terror at the moment." The young man's eyes went wide, and he turned on his heel, flustered. Surveying the group's expressions, he raised a perplexed voice. "Wait, for real? Did I do something suspicious?" "'Suspicious' hardly begins to describe it. You struck the perfect image of a villain making his entrance back there." "Whaaat...? I mean, I guess I can't totally deny being a villain, but still, I'm not your enemy, you guys..." Hearing that, the group finally let down their guard a bit. They turned inquisitive gazes toward Elisabeth, as though to ask if she knew him. She nodded, then answered. "Be at ease. Suspicious as his left arm is, this one is a servant of mine. His name is Kaito, or Sena, or perhaps Kaito Sena." "Thanks a lot for that half-assed introduction. But it doesn't matter; don't worry about us." As he waved with his beastly left arm, the manâ€”Kaito Senaâ€”lined up beside Elisabeth, the