and Lewis, the attackers' main force, are focused on negotiating, your job is to free the hostages." "How very simple. In fact, it hardly even rises to the level of a plan. That shit's basic! It's so damn bland that it makes unbuttered bread look like caviar!" "Aye, so it is. And that's why you're going to add a little twist." Elisabeth gave Jeanne a meaningful grin. Her voice, filled with sinister intimations, piqued Jeanne's attention. Then without a shred of hesitation, shame, or indecision, Elisabeth gave Jeanne her instructions. To put it in chess terms, her plan was as insane as sacrificing one's king. "Namely, you're going to blow up the Sand Queen's corpse." "Reckless...doesn't even begin to describe it. This isn't a risky play; it's straight-up illegal. But this shit ain't half-bad. It's so wicked, and so wicked! Guess this is why they pay her the big bucks!" Jeanne licked her lips like a cat. Her honey-blond hair fluttered, practically scraping the Sand Temple's ceiling as it did. The temple had a large, metal, hoop-shaped lighting fixture with brazier cages installed on its circumference, and at the moment, Jeanne was perched atop it. Each time the walls shook, the chain-mounted hoop trembled violently, the towering bone pillar before her eyes creaked, and rock chunks of various sizes cascaded down from the ceiling. Despite the jagged rain, though, Jeanne didn't so much as flinch. Her gaze was focused on a single point. Deep inside the temple, there was a hexagonal sanctuary adorned with gold and jewels. It was a building inside the building, like a pair of nesting boxes. Without going through its door, it was impossible to have an audience with the Sand Queen's corpse. The layout served two purposes; it enhanced the temple's mystique, and it protected against mages invading it. The inner sanctuary was guarded by a magic circle that repelled people based on their blood. Historically, the spell had covered the entire temple. However, the rest of it had been lifted after the third peace treaty, both because of how inconvenient it was when their old friends the beastfolk wanted to send their royalty to pay respects, and out of consideration for the burden it placed on the demi-human priests when they made pilgrimages to the other sectors. As a result, mages with enough power could forcibly teleport their way in from outside. But during times of peace, the temple was open to the public anyway. There was virtually no reason anyone would need to sneak in. However, the inner sanctuary was still inviolable, even to that day. If you opened its door, though, you'd be greeted by a winding, serpentine staircase covered in blood runes. Beyond it lay the Sand Queen's burial chamber, a massive room blanketed in a thick layer of vitreous sand. Her colossal body, half buried under the white, cloudy grains, was said to resemble a lizard's. It was also said her body glowed red and had never decomposed. For many ages, she'd rested down there in peace. Now, though, that stillness had been shattered into a million pieces. An explosion had gone off beneath the sanctuary. "...Oh my, that is dramatic. And probably more effective than stabbin' them in their actual hearts, too. Almost feels too easy." Jeanne murmured the words, which sounded as though they'd have been best accompanied by a whistle, as dispassionately as ever. The explosion had had an immediate, drastic effect inside the temple. Until just a moment ago, the hostages' arms had been bound, and they'd all been collapsed lifelessly on their sides. The terror from the end of days had returned, overwhelming them and leaving them unable to even move. Now, though, it was like a switch had been flipped. All of them rushed violently toward the inner sanctuary. The armed mixed-race folk stood dumbfounded. They couldn't even parse their hostages' sudden change. However, the demi-humans' actions were consistent with their beliefs. Even in crisis situations, their desire to be "proper subjects" took absolute precedence. To them, their reverence for pure bloodlines and the Sand Queen was more important than their own safety. And right now, that meant checking in on their queen's corpse to make sure it was unharmed. One of them nimbly hopped up and took off at a dash. Several of the others tripped and fell, but they, too, continued struggling onward. A long moment later, the mixed-race folk shouted out threats to make them stop and come back. "Don't get up without permission! You wanna die?!" "Silence! We had a deal, and you broke it! How dare you lowlifes endanger Her Majesty the Sand Queen!" They were met with one angry cry after another. The mixed-race folk flinched. They had no comebacks to that. After their armed assault succeeded, the mixed-race people had used the Sand Queen's corpse as a hostage for their own hostages. Blowing it up for no reason would make keeping control of the temple impossible. It might even mess up the negotiations with La Christoph. But given that an explosion had broken out regardless, the only possibility they could think of was that their lookout had acted on his ownâ€”in other words, they thought it was their own fault. Their response weakened, and for a moment, the mixed-race folk stopped in their tracks. "So far, all according to plan." Jeanne nodded. However, the mixed-race people soon set off to check on the state of affairs underground, and earlier than she'd expected. They tightened their grips on their weapons. They needed to check what was happening in the inner sanctuary, and the hostages grouped at its entrance were in their way. Jeanne narrowed her eyes. But then it happened. Someone pounded hard on the temple's main doors from outside. Flustered, the mixed-race folk turned around. Jeanne nodded again. It would seem they'd made it in time. Angry voices were audible through the door. The purebloods who'd avoided confinement had come running over. It was an immediate, violent, impulsive response. "Did you harm the Sand Queen?!" they shouted. The graveyard-like silence that had filled the first sector had been completely broken. Fear was only capable of controlling people for so long, and that time had come to an abrupt end. The mixed-race people looked dumbfounded. However, their surprise didn't last long. Soon, their faces were filled with loathing. Their people had long been oppressed and persecuted, making the spirit of self-sacrifice that accompanied blood-purity fanaticism anathema to them. They turned their weapons back toward the royalty and other hostages. I imagine they think the people outside have merely forgotten the position they're in due to their rage, but hearing the hostages scream will shut them up. I see, I see. A very practical solution...or so they thought! Suckers! Suddenly, a scream rang out. *** "...Huh?" However, the mixed-race people hadn't done anything yet. They looked toward the inner sanctuary's entrance in unison. The scream had come through it, from below. Clearly, their lookout in the Sand Queen's chamber had been visited by an uninvited guest. That meant that the bombing, too, had been this stranger's work, and not their lookout's. However, teleporting in directly was impossible. When had someone been able to sneak past them? Why had they gone after the Sand Queen instead of them? And what possible reason could they have for wanting to blow up a corpse? The mixed-race folk found themselves with questions upon questions. But the angry cries from the hostages and people outside prevented them from thinking straight. Jeanne licked her lips as she gazed down at the chaos below her. "I suppose it's time, then. When the meat starts sizzlin', you gotta take it off the grill." Jeanne took a deep breath. Then she elegantly arched her back and thrust her bondage-strapped chest forward. Her ribs pressed faint outlines into her skin, and her honey-blond hair draped luxuriously down her back. Her long eyelashes fluttered as she spoke her loving whisper. "Now then, my fair ladyâ€”let us dance." Jeanne raised her arms into the air like a conductor. The moment she did, something shot out into the room full of bone pillars. Her silver puppet. The golden Torture Princess, Jeanne de Rais, once possessed an exceptional weapon. It was a titan made from four parts. One of them was a beast made of nothing but fangs. Another was an automaton, shaped like a human except for its fatally warped framework. One of the other monsters was a lizard with limbs made from pipes and wings made of glass. And the final one was a bipedal suit of armor with no visible seams on its body. The weapon was singular, and the weapon was many. It was one, and it was four. They were separate, and they were a titan. Such was the nature of Deus Ex Machina. Not only could it be summoned regardless of the user's nature or disposition, but it was also a living weapon without equal. However, Deus Ex Machina was lost to Jeanne. She had sacrificed it to save her first love, Izabella Vicker. It happened right before the end of days. After being captured by the Church's reconstruction sect, Izabella was forced to eat demon flesh and partially transformed into a monster. Saving her was just barely possible, but it would require removing the corrupted parts and replacing them with Deus Ex Machina. And thus, Jeanne was faced with a choice. She had the power to save Izabella. However, doing so would mean taking a weapon meant to deliver salvation and rendering it useless. The question was, was the life of her first love more important than the world? And the answer was clear. Even children know that some things were more important than others. And Jeanne had been created to deliver salvation. It would be a sick joke for the self-proclaimed "oppressor of slaves, the savior of the world, the saint, and the whore" to prioritize her own love over it. And knowing all that, Jeanne chose Izabella anyway. The worst choice possible. The end of days loomed on the horizon, yet she abandoned her greatest weapon. However, Jeanne had no regrets. Saving the world and destroying it were both but mere matters of personal conceit. And if faced with the decision a thousand times, Jeanne would no doubt make the same choice a thousand times over. Even if they knew it was a fatal error, there were sometimes choices that people simply had to make. For Jeanne, that moment was one such choice. And that was all there was to it. Now, though, all that was but a distant memory. Over three years had passed since the end of days was averted. If she'd gone that long without taking steps to remedy her own degraded strength, it would have made her a failure as a mage. After the world was saved, Jeanne had accepted Izabella's invitation to join the royal castle's retinue. Then as Jeanne carried out her duties there, she also tried searching for a new weapon. With the end of days averted, she'd fulfilled her purpose in life and had no more reason to fight, but now that she'd fallen in love, she wanted to get her power back anyway. At first, she used her acquaintances' techniques as references and tried methods such as summoning countless blades and calling forth torture devices. However, nothing she tried spoke to her the way Deus Ex Machina had. However, she'd largely expected as much. Deus Ex Machina was a supremely dangerous entity, as it drained its user's mana whether they wanted it to or not. In order to adapt to controlling it, Jeanne had trained ceaselessly since childhood. Eventually, she became more adept at using that steel titan than at using a fork and knife. Trying to find something to replace it was like chopping off her arm and looking for something else to align her nerve endings with. Nothing could possibly compare to the