once more. "They can run all they like. They can flee wherever their hearts desire. And there, they can learn that the world is over. No..." ...It had been over from the very beginning. As Lewis made his cold statement, a faint smile came over his lips. It was a tired, self-deprecating expressionâ€” â€”and by far the one most dripping in malice he'd shown yet. 8 Wombs and Babies Now then, let's talk about compensation. For what, you ask? Why, it's simple. I'm talking about your reward for betraying everything and helping to destroy the world. Unfortunately, I haven't the faintest idea of what I can offer you. You saints have had much taken from you, but it's unclear if there's any method to change you back. And people haven't exactly been diligent in searching for one. After all, why think too hard about the world's enigmatic phenomena when you can simply write them all off as miracles? But hasn't the thought ever crossed your mind? The being who stole your flesh, warped your bones, and corroded your minds... ...is it really God? Could your prayers not have coincidentally resonated with a different higher entity, one we lower creatures can't even perceive? Of course, this is nothing but an armchair theory. Little more than a cynical guess. But it's impossible to refute, isn't it? After all, nobody knows the exact specifics of the mechanism by which people become saints. Yet even so, you still believe. You say all mankind is capable of is prayer, and so it is our duty to pray. May salvation find us all, you say. Blessings unto all. For comporting yourself nobly, helping the weak, and thinking of God is faith manifest. How dubious. How foolish. The end of days gave us our proofâ€”God is nothing more than a phenomenon. The Saint hated everything, and she sowed the seeds of evil. There was no noble Creator receiving your prayers. Just some alien thing that gave and took as it pleased. Why, that almost sounds like the contracts demons make, doesn't it? No, forgive me. That was hardly the way one should talk to a friend. Allow me to get back on topic. The things you've lost can never be reclaimed. Even so...or rather, because of that, is there anything you desire in their place? We intend to deliver punishment. To take the world and make it our own. And to kill every last fool who lives in it. But regardless of whether we're successful or not, the end result will be the same. No one will be saved. Eventually, all this will end. Is there something you want to obtain before that happens? Surely, there must be at least oneâ€” There...is? There is, you say?! Ah, my apologies. Even though I'm the one who asked the question, your answer still caught me by surprise. Please, I must know. As long as it's within my power, I'll get it for you. So go on, La Christoph, O Modest Birdkeeper, O devout faithful wrenched from humanity. What is it you desire? ...Ah, hold that thought. I hear Alice's voice. The Torture Princess must have finally arrived. I'll hear you out in a moment. But please don't change your mind. I simply must know. That wish you might have had fulfilledâ€” â€”if only God were more merciful. Elisabeth's footsteps echoed loudly as she dashed down the hallway. The passage's walls were built out of stone, and there were no windows anywhere. However, the metal lizards and flowers mounted on ornamental pillars did a decent job of breaking up the otherwise-stifling gloom. Fortunately, there were no sliced-up corpses or viscera to be seen. Apparently, the tragedy hadn't reached the villa's center. Even so, though, Elisabeth's expression was fierce and grim. Also, a strange thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump noise was echoing in her wake. She was still dragging La Christoph along the ground. She was holding him by the collar and carrying him diagonally behind her. Although he was still largely upright, La Christoph had cleverly elected to go limp. The image of his resigned form was like that of a corpse ripped from its coffin, or perhaps that of a cat that'd grown used to its owner's tyrannical abuse. However, seeming to have suddenly remembered he was still alive, La Christoph spoke. "Might I have a moment, Elisabeth Le Fanu?" "Hmm? While we're in the middle of fleeing? If it's about the ruckus in the temple, I'll explain later." "That's quite all right. Once I realized that Izabella and Jeanne de Rais were acting separately from you, I got a fairly clear picture of the situation. At the moment, I have something else I'd like to discuss. Might I ask that you mind my hair a little more? It's getting torn to shreds." "Hmm?" Elisabeth came to an abrupt stop. She turned and looked back. It was true. After getting tangled around his shoes and robe, La Christoph's hair had met a terrible fate. There was a lot of it, so the damage wasn't immediately obvious, but there were a number of large tufts scattered about on the floor behind them. After surveying the grim spectacle, Elisabeth went silent. She lowered La Christoph a little and spoke. "Well, I am sorry about that, but was this truly pressing enough to warrant stopping me over?" "Not at all, and I myself don't particularly mind. Even if all my hair was torn from my head, as long as my scalp remained, I would consider it a victory. It was simply a bit of sophistry to get you to stop running. My actual question is about where we're going." "Even I would feel guilty over leaving you bald, but... Wait, why not simply ask that, then?!" "I judged that the hair comment would be likelier to get you to stop." "What kind of absurd judgment is that?!" Elisabeth shook La Christoph from side to side. He cocked his head. He wasn't mocking her; it was merely an automatic reaction. He then went on as though nothing had happened, his tone as serious as ever. "Allow me to repeat myself. It would seem you memorized the building's blueprints ahead of time, and we do appear to be making our way outside. However, it looks like we're taking a fairly roundabout route. Am I correct in assuming you made that choice when you noticed the irregularity?" "...If you know that much already, what meaning is there in asking it aloud?" "The decision I made to stop you was founded on sheer arrogance. But I ask you again, Elisabeth Le Fanuâ€”as the Torture Princess, do you truly believe it's something we ought to witness now?" The look on La Christoph's face was earnest. Elisabeth thought for a moment. Saints had peculiar dispositions. No matter what was waiting for them at their destination, La Christoph would probably be fine. In other words, he was worried about the emotional blow it would deal to her. It felt as though she was being made light of. However, she refrained from voicing her complaints. Instead, she merely checked to see if anyone was chasing them. There wasn't a soul behind them for quite some distance. Alice didn't appear to be following them. But given the situation, that fact seemed highly unnatural. La Christoph's unwarranted concern is hardly unreasonable. Alice and Lewis show no signs of pursuing us...which means odds are high they're allowing us to roam free on purpose. Go. Follow. Run. Witness. And burn the image into your eyes. Abandon every last shred of hopeâ€”that was the sentence their foes seemed to be levying on them. Yet still, leaving the situation as is and fleeing will cause no small number of problems in the future. Elisabeth was all too aware that once sowed, seeds of evil quickly took root and bloomed into massive flowers. The moment you noticed them, you had to eliminate them as quickly as possible. She gave a small nod, then set off in the same direction as before. La Christoph stopped talking out of respect for her decision, staying silent even when his black hair started getting mangled again. His expression was the spitting image of an old dog putting up with a young girl's mischief. At the moment, the two of them were heading outside. At the same time, though, she was also heading for a certain location, one that was on their wayâ€”probably. However, the details were fuzzy, and she had no exact notion of its location. At the end of the day, all she was doing was following a worrisome smell. She'd noticed it after they left the prayer room, and it seemed La Christoph had become aware of its irregularity at about the same time. They were heading in the opposite direction of the corpse-strewn entrance, yet the farther they went, the thicker the air grew. Fleeing without dealing with it was an unsettling proposition, but the moment they saw its source, there was a chance they'd be overcome with despair. As she ran, Elisabeth's mind turned. In order to revolutionize the world, Lewis said he and his group created innumerable demon grandchildren. In all likelihood, that foul air was related to their taboo experiments. The vivid smell had two parts to it: the reek of blood and the fragrance of something that only mages who'd used it themselves when brewing medicine would likely recognize. An ingredient that was, in a sense, maternal in nature. It was something that had no right to be wafting through the air. Amniotic fluid. "'Twould seem we're here." Click. Elisabeth's heels clicked one final time as she came to a stop. A set of double doors with metal adornments stood before her. A short while ago, the two of them had arrived at a hall reserved for the king and guests of honor. Instead of using its main entrance, though, they'd slipped through the passageway on its right. The farther they went, the more ostentatious the decorations got. Now they'd reached an area with hundreds of lizards carved on its walls and ceiling. Each one of the overlapping reliefs had glimmering jewels for eyes, and all the lizards, large and small, were heading deeper inside, eventually gathering around the double door and forming a decorative frame around it. Other than their handles, the doors' entire surfaces were covered in silverwork scales. As Elisabeth ran her hand over their rippled exterior, she referenced her mental map of the villa. Beyond here lies the banquet hall. The banquet hall was used for all sorts of thingsâ€”balls, feasts, concubines putting on performances to entertain guests of honor, succession ceremonies, and more. And even when there wasn't an event going on, it still should have been a lively space. Now, though, it seemed dark and gloomy. But that was to be expected. After all, the smell of blood and amniotic fluid was coming from beyond those doors. La Christoph freed himself from Elisabeth's grasp and hopped down. His arms still bound in chains, he deftly turned toward the doors. The low whisper that left his mouth was clearly a warning. "Elisabeth Le Fanu." "Aye, I know full well." As she stood by his side, Elisabeth looked down. A large pool was spreading on the floor beneath their feet. The liquid was leaking out from under the doors. Demi-humans rarely used carpets on account of all the sand, so the red mixed in with the liquid was clearly visible. Also, they could hear laughter from beyond the doors. It resembled the sound of children whining and crying. 'Tis hard to imagine any children being here, though. Elisabeth glared at the doors. Other than the butchered corpses, they'd yet to find a single demi-human on the premises. The concubines and king's children were a given, but even the servants all had extremely pure blood, so everyone inside had been captured and taken to the temple. Lewis and his group had probably decided to use