her...it was as people that we made our choices. And our choice, made freely, was to believe." The paladin's eyes went wide at the unexpected revelation. Normally, the saints had little in the way of free will. However, the Saint's death seemed to have triggered something in them. Now they had found something to believe in. While the paladin gawked, La Dhruv's face returned to decrepitude. His hundreds of wrinkles creased as he spoke softly. "Even, if, we someday, lose, our connections...God, will still, be in, our hearts. As people, we believe, in La Christoph's smile, and the Saint's wish. And those, who owe their life to another, have a duty to fight." The young paladin gasped. It was trueâ€”if not for the deaths of La Christoph and the Saint, the world would have reached its breaking point far earlier. Everyone there owed their lives to those two. The sure light of volition burned in La Dhruv's eyes. Despite his unsteady voice, his intent was clear. "And so, we fight. No matter how foolish it may be." With that, La Dhruv resumed his chant, and the fish-shaped divine beasts bursting from his belly twisted and writhed as they shot forth. They swam through the air and made for Alice. It was hardly enough to take her down, but the incessant bombardment was making it difficult for her to get a precise read on their locations. However, the shock waves kept on coming. The paladins ran with all their might, then abruptly veered and changed course. A moment later, the house right behind them exploded. As rubble rained down around them, a couple of the paladins shouted. "Sorry about the bumpy ride." "You know, this is almost fun!" "Is that so," La Dhruv replied. "Just, don't, mess up, the steering." "Of course!" All they could do was run around awkwardly until the saints hit their limits. Either that or until they got unlucky and died to one of the shock waves. However, their gaits were free of despair, and their expressions were unclouded. For there was something they knew in their hearts. There could be no doubt that they were living in the last stages of a miracle. And knowing that meant that nothing could give them pause. Then there were the roofs. The people who lived in the Capital were well-off, so the houses there were built sturdy. You could run across their rooftops with no problems. And what's more, aside from the areas where nobles lived, each block of houses was built adjointly. Because of that, the beastfolk and Royal Knights were able to move freely about the rooftops. Their great bows needed to be fixed in place, so they had abandoned them as soon as the battle began in earnest. Now they were using regular bows to fire off their sporadic rains of poison arrows. Whenever they got close to the main plaza, they also mixed in attacks with jars of oil and flaming arrows. The haphazard volleys amounted to little more than harassment. They were unable to inflict any actual damage to Alice herself. However, their efforts made for a fine distraction. Each time her dress melted or burst into flames, Alice would get flustered and throw a childish tantrum. And because there were so many different people firing, the White Knight had trouble aiming. Even so, the archers still needed to dodge the wide-area attacks with their own two feet. "Southeast, range four! Disperse!" When the beastfolk voice cut through the air, everyone scattered. The shouts were designed to succinctly convey the direction and power of the incoming attacks. The archers broke into a dash. When the shock wave landed, it carved a gaping hole in the ground. Debris exploded up from the impact site and rained down hard before eventually settling down. Vyadryavka rose from his defensive crouch. Darius stood beside him, lightly armored and stretching his shoulders. He'd forced his way through more than one rain of rubble, but there wasn't so much as a scratch on him. The man was built tough. Vyadryavka gave him an appraising look, then spoke with some surprise in his voice. "My people do battle in the forest, so we're old hands at fighting across varying elevations. I must say, you and your men impress me. To be honest, I didn't expect you all to be able to keep up with our speed." "We're the Royal Knights, I'll have you know! We know this city's layout, even its rooftops, like the back of our hands! I was expecting you lot to spend half your time getting lost, but I gotta hand it to you, your men did well!" Vyadryavka finishing standing up. Darius crossed his arms. They stared confrontationally at each other. A few seconds passed. Then the two military men bumped their arms together. Each had praised the other, and each of them nodded. Then they lowered their arms and resumed their positions. Vyadryavka readied his bow once more. The beastfolk around him followed suit. At the moment, they were far away from the plaza. Vyadryavka used every ounce of beastfolk strength and visual acuity he had, drew back his bowstring, and fired. "Hellhole, Pendulum, Gavel!" All the while, Elisabeth was deploying one torture device after another. She knew full well that all of them would just be destroyed, yet she doled them out lavishly and spared no expense. The sheer fervor she was displaying was almost reminiscent of her onetime fight against Kaito Sena. The White Knight handled all her attacks with aplomb. He charged through the Hellhole, gouging out the earth all around him, then sliced the Pendulum to ribbons and batted away the Gavel with his sword's pommel. But every second he had to spend defending himself was time that he wasn't attacking the others. Then the saints' blasts and the myriad arrows found their mark. Izabella took advantage of that opening to glide forward on her mechanical legs. She wound a chain around the White Knight's arm and slid in a wide circle to obstruct her foe's movements. Her silver hair traced an elegant arc through the air. Even so, the White Knight continued maneuvering his steed and evading Elisabeth's torture devices. That was when the saints' bombardment hit Alice head-on. She screamed. Before the White Knight had a chance to grab her, Izabella severed the chain of her own accord. She beat an immediate retreat, then spun back around and hurled a good dozen throwing knives at Alice. As she did, Elisabeth's voice rose up in unison. Six vortices of petals and darkness manifested in the midst of Izabella's attack. "La Guillotine, Saint of Beheadings." The situation was pure chaos. With all the attacks coming in, they could barely even see Alice anymore. It almost felt like they were a group of adults ganging up on a child and bullying her. There was a limit to how long they could keep up their onslaught, but at the same time, they were slowly but surely wearing Alice down as well. They had reached an equilibrium. Now all we need do is buy as much time as we can. Elisabeth could see victory just on the horizon. She called forth yet another torture device. Alice held down her hat with tears in her eyes. She balled herself up smaller and smaller, then murmured just five words, "This is all so dumb." Her voice reached Elisabeth's ears with unsettling clarity. At the same time, the White Knight drew his arm all the way back. He was completely ignoring all the incoming attacks. This time, something was terribly different. A chill ran down Elisabeth's spine. However, Izabella and Jeanne were the only other ones who noticed. There wasn't time to shout out an order. Not a moment later, the White Knight threw his lance. Silver light hurtled through the air. It drew a straight line not just to the plaza, but all the way to the Capital proper, and obliterated everyone in its vicinity. 9 A Waltz for Two In truth, she knew it was never going to happen. But still, she wanted to dream. The place where Jeanne de Rais once lived had been home to nothing but death. It was a remote place surrounded by cliffs, and everyone there lived knowing that death would someday take them. To them, Jeanne was nothing but a puppet meant to massacre them all. In order to create their fervent entreaty, the alchemists put their very lives on the line. "Grant us our wish, O Torture Princess. Send us to our eternal rest." Jeanne had no desire to speak ill of their pride, nor did she intend to ridicule the cause they'd spent so long believing in. Otherwise, she wouldn't have put in the work she had to see their dream to fruition and to become the maiden of salvation. As far as how she actually felt went, though, she had just one thing to say. "That's so messed up! "I mean, if you're dying, your dreams ain't worth shit. They're just a burden, weighing down the livin'." The alchemists hadn't let emotions influence their actions. To them, there was only death. And that coldness of theirs had been Jeanne's entire world. But then she found something warm. Izabella was the first beautiful person she had ever met, and even after all the machine parts Jeanne had augmented her with, Izabella had retained her kindness. She was so gallant, so lovely, and always so warm. Izabella took her hand. Izabella didn't shy away from her blood. Izabella cried for her sake. Izabella lamented her wounds. And so, Jeanne let herself believe. She'd even had a foolishly sappy exchange about it. "Marriage!" "Of course! We'll have a big ceremony in the Capital!" She'd wanted so badly to believe. Like a maiden in the midst of a dream. "In truth, I knew it was never going to happen. But still, I wanted to dream of something beautiful." There was no time to dodge the White Knight's throw. In all likelihood, just about everyone was dead. Vyadryavka? Darius? The paladins? The Royal Knights? The saints? The beastfolk? Rubble fell. Fire rained down. They eclipsed everything. All of them? Elisabeth's crimson eyes went wide. She found herself at a loss for words. Before her, she could see the solid line that had been gouged out of the city. Fire licked at the gash. It was like looking at a meteor's landing site. The civilians had been evacuated already, but all the combatants were dead. There was little chance any of them had survived. Alice quietly raised her head. She posed her question with the indifference of a queen. "Now it's truly over. Really and truly. Later, I'll make sure to go kill the king who conspired with all those knights and saints, too. So are we done playing tag now?" She calmly cocked her head to the side. The look in her eyes made her intent perfectly clear. If the game was over, she was going to begin her massacre. She wasn't even giving Elisabeth time to mourn the dead. Alice was a queen now, and her heart had no mercy in it. Elisabeth shook off her shock for the moment. She was just about to give her unhesitating answer, but then another voice cut in. "Not yet. We're still here, aren't we? Open your damn eyes, girl." "We, married couple Izabella Vicker and Jeanne de Rais, will be your opponents." The woman of gold and the woman of silver strode forward. The former's right hand and the latter's left hand were clasped tightly together with their fingers interwoven. Elisabeth bit her lip. The two of them were strong, to be sure. But they were no match for the Fremd Torturchen. And the gap between their strength and hers should have been obvious to them. Yet even so, they didn't let go of each other's hands, and they didn't flee. The sheer