of yours." "I really do apologize for the poor walking conditions. We're almost there, so I hope you'll put up with it for just a bit longer." Sure enough, the man soon stopped. The driver raised his lantern up high, illuminating the oddly fleshy nude etching of the Saint in the door beside them. The original composition was a well-known religious painting, but it had been exaggerated in a way that was somehow both sexual and comedic. The man cleared his throat, concerned that Elisabeth might find it offensive. It would seem that he realized that it was in poor taste. However, Elisabeth didn't much care one way or the other. She offered no reaction. Clearly relieved, the man knocked on the door. A muffled voice came from the other side. "Who do we extol?" "Those who sup on the pain of man." "And what do we seek?" "An abyss of greed and avarice." It was a needlessly theatrical exchange, and a pointless one to boot. If the paladins found out about them, they wouldn't have time to ask for a passcode before the paladins just smashed the door in. Elisabeth gently squeezed the bridge of her nose. The door opened from within, and the driver bowed and stepped back. Apparently, he wasn't coming with them. Elisabeth and the man strode forward. It had been dead silent in the tunnel, but inside, they were greeted by a loud clamor. There were many voices that Elisabeth could make out, but one of them in particular was especially disquieting. Someone was letting out a low moan. When she heard itâ€” â€”the Torture Princess slowly looked up. The room within was surprisingly spacious. When the man said he'd remodeled it, he clearly hadn't been lying. There was a fancy chandelier hanging from its ceiling and an ominously patterned carpet had been placed atop its tiled floor. A square section in the middle of the carpet had been cut out, and a stone pedestal sat atop the bare floor that was displayed. There was no other furniture to speak of. For the room's purposes, that pedestal alone was sufficient. A gathering of people wearing the same black clothes and gaudy masks as the man sat around the pedestal. It resembled a sort of bizarre masquerade ball. However, the mood in the room was oddly manic. The group looked up in unison. It reminded Elisabeth of a flock of crowsâ€”a group that gathered around carrion and feasted on their rotting carcasses. With no way to tell how she envisioned them, though, the group clad in black let out cries of joy and delight. "Can it be? The Torture Princess herself, in our midst?! At long last, our prayers are answered!" "Ah, such beauty! Why, her looks put even the rumors to shame!" "...I can't believe that coward actually followed through. I need to go introduce myself at once." The whispers that filled the air were filled with childishly frank admiration. Elisabeth paid them no heed, nor did she return any of their passionate, almost loving gazes. No, her crimson eyes were fixed solely on the pedestal. A young girl was crucified atop it. She had yet to reach maturity, like a sapling that had just begun to sprout. Perhaps they had bought her, or perhaps they'd taken her from some small rural village after sweet-talking her parents. Either way, her abdomen looked like it had been pecked apart by crows. Her flesh was dark crimson, raw, and filthy. To wit, her stomach had been sliced open. Inside the cut, her innards had been ever so carefully mixed up, and every one of her organs was missing little bits and pieces from it. Elisabeth shifted her gaze over to the figures clad in black. Each of them was holding a set of cutlery in their hands. The forks and knives in question were all wet with blood, and the silver plates in front of them were adorned with fresh chunks of meat. Livers and eyeballs reflected back the room's light. And the dinner sets were each replete with a cup full of freshly drawn blood. Even as she was being eaten, the girl yet drew breath. While the group in black continued in their innocent excitement, the girl moved ever so slightly. She returned Elisabeth's gaze. A single tear rolled out of her sole remaining eye. Her tongue was gone, as were her teeth. She still had lips, though, and they mouthed a silent plea. Kill me. Not save me. Elisabeth snapped her fingers. A heavy thump echoed out as an iron stake pierced the girl's heart clean through. Then a moment later, blood sprayed up from her chest and dyed the chandelier bright red. The girl who'd been eaten alive was dead. The room went silent. Nobody had expected that from the Torture Princess in the slightest. Eventually, though, one of the peopleâ€”probably a nobleâ€”spoke up. "W-was there something wrong with the sacrifice?" "Oh, shut up. I have one question for you lot, and one question alone." The group straightened their backs in alarm at the Torture Princess's words. Elisabeth smiled bewitchingly to set them at ease. They let out deep sighs, captivated by her beguiling expression. Elisabeth raised her fair arm and pointed at the dead girl. "Any among you who did not partake in the banquet, raise your hand now." A troubled murmur ran through the air. However, most of the group proudly shook their heads no. That said, there was one sole exception. Unable to withstand the others' animosity, one younger man raised his hand. One of the others must have forced him to come along with them. Even before he raised his hand, his face was pale as a sheet. He also had no cutlery or plate, so it would appear that his declaration was true. "I see, I see. Right, then." Elisabeth lowered her hand. Everyone looked at her expectantly. In contrast with the rest of the crowd's excitement, though, the young man let out a pathetic little scream. None of them had any doubt that his failure to participate in the sacrificial rite had angered the Torture Princess. She was going to brutally kill him. Everyone there trembled in unconcealed anticipation. Elisabeth gave the young man her finest smile. Then she snapped her fingers. "...Huh?" A dumbfounded voice sounded out from behind her. It was the man who guided her there. He blinked several times. His head had toppled off his neck, and he was holding it in his hands. Even separated from his torso, the man's head continued to blink. His eyes turned upward and looked at his neck as blood began spurting forth from it. He gawked at it in shock. Then his lips went slack, and his body collapsed onto the floor while still holding his head. His feet flopped back and forth like fish out of water. All the while, his blood spread farther and farther across the carpet, seeping into it and dying it crimson. After a slight delay, the screams started. The room descended into a panic. Elisabeth, the only calm person present, simply shrugged. "'Just like the Torture Princess,' eh? You have nerve, I'll give you that... But know thisâ€”you were under a grave misapprehension. I have no patience for those who would use me for their own ends or make me their lapdog. 'Tis an insult of the highest order, and I've slain all who tried heretofore. I must admit, though, this banquet you've thrown truly is not unlike my own. I may be unto a demon, but you lot are no different. Very well! I recognize you, then, as having deviated from humanity's path!" Elisabeth spread her arms wide in a haughty, magnanimous gesture. This time, the smile on her blood-drenched face was of a wholly different nature than it had been before. When she made her sonorous declaration, her expression was downright villainous. "And as such, this is a task well befitting the Torture Princess! For killing those who are unto demons is a task that belongs to those just as wretched!" Sometimes, the only thing that could kill evil was a different brand of evil. That was one of the world's many truths. After all, those who sang the praises of righteousness would never have been able to find this underground banquet. To be invited here, one would have to be the kind of evil that other evildoers looked up to. And only someone evil would be able to tell just how wicked the banquet truly was. For Elisabeth could tellâ€”mercy would be wasted on their kind, and they were unfit to receive even the faintest of amnesties. She could tell that the girl before her wasn't the first one they'd eaten alive. No, the victims whose blood stained those walls numbered in the hundreds. This was a place that was well worth being called a demon's banquet hall. And as such, there was but one act for the Torture Princess to take. "Duke of Exeter's Daughter!" Elisabeth's voice echoed out loud and clear, and a torrent of darkness and flower petals whirled up in response. A storm of black and crimson swept violently through the room. Then it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. In its place stood an adorable young girl. The guests all shrank back and cowered in fear. Several of them let out confused yelps. The girl gave them an elegant bow. Her flaxen hair rustled, setting off her amber eyes. She was wearing an understated dark-green dress, and it was adorned with a white lace collar and a porcelain brooch. At a glance, she looked like an ordinary young girl. What was strange, though, was that there were four of her. Their faces were the same down to the smallest detail. One might think they were quadruplets, but that wasn't right, either. Even that wouldn't account for how unnaturally identical they were. It was like something straight out of a nightmare. To drive home that point, the arms extending from their sleeves clearly weren't those of a human. Their fingers were made of metal and were the perfect size for binding a person's limbs. It was like someone had taken a sheltered young maiden and replaced part of her flesh with restraints. The girls gracefully made their way over to the pedestal. Then they used their restraints to grab the stake stuck in the human sacrifice. """"Heave-ho!"""" As they called out in unison, they wrenched the stake free. They then rolled the corpse onto the floor, blood spurting all over them in the process. Entrails got spread everywhere, ruining the expensive-looking carpet. Once they were done, the four of them stood in an elegant little line. Elisabeth let out a whisper in a voice like honeyed venom. "Judgment is handed down, and I am she who hands it. Behold, as I take your dull destinies and forever alter them." *** A violent scream sounded out. A horrible, graphic noise filled the air, and it was soon followed by a desperate moan. The victim's body was torn in half at the waist, and organs and guts spilled from the fleshy tear. Several other such corpses were already piled atop the floor. Even though the air was thick with the stench of blood, the girls' smiles hadn't faded in the slightest. And why would they? Duke of Exeter's Daughter was a torture rack given flesh. Never once had they felt qualms or revulsion at the prospect of stretching people out. The girls tossed the new corpse aside, then set off and walked in formation by the group of people cowering stock-still by the wall. Finally, they stopped before one portly man in particular. "You." The man had been holding his breath, afraid that he'd get picked if he so much as moved. His eyes went wide when he discovered that his efforts had been in vain. He swallowed, then let out a throat-shattering scream.