prevent that, those who knew the truth decided to extract the palatable bits alone in order to dress them up and present them to the world. "As naked men and women hide their unmentionables and mask their faces with makeup. As flowers are pruned, with their rotted stems coldly discarded. Such is the nature of our dilapidated legend." What had been left at the end was a tale of love and miracles. Vlad's voice flowed through Elisabeth's ears so eloquently it made her skin crawl. However, she was only half paying attention to him. The rest of her focus was commanded by a quote she'd just remembered, one she'd heard in a dream within a fictitious castle of sand. It had been spoken by someone who was Vlad yet wasn't him at all. "In a sense, we stand at a legend's end. The space beyond the fairy tale." At present, those words were quite literally true. In order to varnish over the truth, Ragnarok had been glorified in poems, songs, plays, paintings, epics, and novels, and thanks to endorsements from the government and the Church, the people had amused themselves with such art all throughout the reconstruction efforts. To them, the entire story was already nothing more than a fairy tale. Alas, one can hardly blame them. From the people's perspective, the underlings had shown up to attack and devour them out of the blue. As they prayed to the newly manifested God pillar, Diablo had subjected them to calamities untold. And then, without warning, the nightmare had ended just like that. They were told that a grand battle had taken place behind the scenes, sure, but just hearing about it couldn't possibly have made it seem real. To them, the things that had transpired out of their sight were no different from legends and fairy tales. As far as many are concerned, the Mad King may well have never truly existed. Long ago, an ordinary woman had been made into the Saint, a being of unsullied beauty and boundless mercy. And someday, an ordinary boy would be made into the Hero, a wise and powerful being who knew no pain. With each telling, the sheep would embellish the tale a little further. They wouldn't mean any harm by itâ€”after all, they were dealing with a figure from legend. Why not make him out to be as legendary as could be? They knew nothing. Not a single, solitary thing. He was no hero. No fairy-tale protagonist. No one to be revered. He was just a man. Just a boy. And yet in spite of that, Kaito... ...would remain at the World's End forevermore. Vlad continued on, his voice as pompous as ever. "As such, the masses have no idea the true danger behind the rebels' demand. In fact, it'd be a problem if they did, no?" Hearing him brought Elisabeth back to the here and now. She shook her head. Seemingly unconcerned with his listener's reaction, Vlad continued his enthused monologue. "And besides, the Mad King is but a hero from a legend. Even if they learned the truth, the blood and tears they themselves shed would still feel far more vivid, to say nothing of their fear of the pain yet to come. Compared to their own well-being, his well-being would be an afterthought of an afterthought. And what's more, revenge is impatient. Corpses speak louder than words, fear warbles, and a fell wind blows. To wit..." "...Disquieting rumors will begin circulating among the people." Vlad gave Elisabeth's reply a nod. By carrying out the massacres in the way they had, the rebels had set the stage. Then, before sending their demand to the Capital, they'd also prepared a number of familiars and communication devices with the same message and sent them to broadcast it through the air. All across the land, birds were crying out, eagles were crying out, and crows were crying out. "If it's clemency you would ask of us..." And that had gotten the people talking. "Did you hear about those villages that got burned down?" "Did you see those corpses with their bellies torn open?" "Did you hear that message that was coming from the sky?" "The attacks are indiscriminate, and they're still happening." "But it's not like we can turn to the king for help." And if that's the case... If that's the case... "Precisely, my precious. It won't be long at all before the people start demanding you be handed over! I warned you, did I not? That those massacres weren't an act of war but a publicity stunt designed to stir up a fell windâ€”that is to say, those disquieting rumors. And oh, how their audience responded. Why, they'll turn out in droves! And you know what that means, I take it." "It means that." Elisabeth let out a sigh. Vlad, seemingly satisfied, concluded his speech with a graceful bow. Electing not to offer him any further response, Elisabeth glanced at the others. Over by the window, Izabella was squeezing her forehead with her beautiful heterochromatic eyes closed. The whole situation was giving her a headache. An unusual blue ring gleamed on her middle finger. Beside her, Jeanne was raising and lowering her hands. She clearly wanted to offer Izabella some words of encouragement, but she was anguishing over what exactly to say. Although her intentions were serious, her hand motions made it look like she was performing some sort of pagan ritual. Although the two of them were both worrying in silence, the room was noisy all the same. That was thanks to the mob outside, audible even through the closed window. Loathsome Elisabeth, repulsive Elisabeth! Cruel, hideous Elisabeth! "'Tis a chant I've not heard for some time... Why, the nostalgia is getting me all misty-eyed." Elisabeth thought back to the scene they'd seen outside. People dressed all in black were marching down the main street. They had looked almost like a funeral procession, which had been accentuated by the fact that they were carrying a set of three coffins. Each one had been stuffed full of flower petals as vivid and crimson as if they'd been packed with human viscera. It was clear they were meant to symbolize the three people the rebels had demanded. The mob's footsteps were heavy, and the constant fear they lived in was visibly weighing on them. Even now, they were still continuing their hoarse, joyless chant. Loathsome Elisabeth, repulsive Elisabeth! Cruel, hideous Elisabeth! It was like they were reciting a fearful, hate-filled curse. Either that or perhaps a nursery rhyme. "Well, at least they're being reasonable enough not to wave axes and torches around," Vlad remarked. "But still, this is just the Capital we're talking about. The poverty-stricken north is another beast altogether. After all, there are plenty of people up there who are no strangers to carrying pitchforks." He wrapped his point up with a pleased-sounding murmur. "Who knows just how bad things will get from here?" Elisabeth took a moment to listen to the tumult, basking in the familiar cries of hatred. A little while later, she shook her head and gave Vlad his orders in a sharp tone. "...Vlad." "Yes?" "Change it back." Vlad responded with an elegant bow, as though to say, Your wish is my command. With a snap of his fingers, azure flower petals and thick darkness swirled through the room like a whirlwind. Then everything in view began to crumble. The room they were in was changing from the ruin into somewhere else entirely. Scaly cracks spread across the plaster walls as the ceiling splintered into cubes and the windows broke into bricks. And not only was the room fragmenting, it was being peeled away like wallpaper. Its chunks fluttered through the air one after another. As they did, they too gradually transformed into azure flower petals. The polished floorboards disappeared as well, slowly but surely overwritten with a seamless swath of living wood. As the dimly glowing azure fragments drifted through the air like dead butterflies, they collectively burst into flame. Then the flame vanished, leaving not even ash in its wake. At the end of it all, they were in a completely different room than the one they'd been in before. It was strangely smooth and composed entirely of white wood. The floor and ceiling weren't parallel but gently sloping, and the walls were curved as well. There were no seams anywhere. It didn't look man-made, and in fact, it wasn't. The entire room had been set up in the hollow of a massive tree. And in all the three races' territories, there was only one tree large enough in which to pull off such a feat. In short, Elisabeth and Vlad were in the home of the Three Kings of the Forest, one of the sacred places in the beastfolk lands. The World Tree. Neither Izabella nor Jeanne was present. The two of them had been stripped away at the same time as the old ruin had been. Just like the contents of the previous room, the two of them weren't actually present in the World Tree. Elisabeth gave the transformed room another glance over. "One does wonder, by the way, why you felt it necessary to project an image of that ruin in the Capital across this entire room as you spoke. Are you truly that fond of idly squandering your mana?" "Ha-ha! Come now, precious daughter of mineâ€”what's the harm? Why, at the moment, our entire world sits atop a farcical stage! And what better way to celebrate that fact than with theatrics? We're hereâ€”might as well make the most of it." Vlad laughed as innocently as a child. Elisabeth gave him a disdainful sigh. The peeled-away sceneryâ€”the abandoned room with blocked-off windowsâ€”was the image that Izabella's magic ring was "perceiving." By projecting that image, Vlad had made it appear as though their room in the World Tree had transformed into the one in the Capital. However, doing so had been a meaningless act bereft of any real purpose. Vlad had merely done it to amuse himself. Izabella and Jeanne, on the other hand, were stationed in the ruin for real. They needed to be able to deal with things if the mob got out of hand. However, diplomacy hardly fell in Vlad or the Torture Princess's wheelhouse, so they decided to relocate to the World Tree. At present, they were standing by and waiting to serve as Maclaeus Filliana's guards once he got out of the three-race meeting that was currently going on. They also had another important reason for being there, but they hadn't been informed of any progress on that particular front. Unable to rein in his boredom, Vlad had transformed their room and launched into a monologue under the pretense of sorting through the information they had at their disposal. As an aside, he was the one who'd adorned Izabella with her ring, and Jeanne had made a big fuss about refusing to let him put it on her ring finger when he did so. Elisabeth let out a third sigh. Everywhere she turned, she was surrounded by people with petty agendas. What a pain. "Jeanne's bellyaching was annoying, granted, but I supposed it didn't grate on ears nearly as badly as the march at the Capital did. To them, Kaito Sena is a hero, a character from a fairy tale, so they've been reluctant to lambaste him quite the way they do me. No matter, though. They can chant my name till their tongues grow numb, for all I care. At the end of the day, though, I doubt it shall stop them from trying to offer all three of us up." Elisabeth shook her head from side to side. There was nothing to be done about it. Ever since the end of days, the suicide rate had doubled. People were killing themselves from being overwhelmed with despair, and the atmosphere of fear and sorrow was