its initial stages then, and the world was a clean slate. Even the wind had yet to blow. But by some miracle, the lump peeked out from behind the cloth. It lasted only a moment, but its reddish-black alien form was laid bare. The thing she was cradling was a lump of demon flesh. Stooping down, she presented the bundle to her attendant. Then she gently passed the seed of evil to him, as though she were entrusting him with her own child. And the attendant obediently took it. He hugged the repulsive lump of meat tightly, like he was trying to protect it. "What a good boy you are," she whispered. "What a good, good boy you are," she praised him in her sweet, sweet, madness-tinged voice. It was a story from long, long ago. A tale too horrible to be called Genesis, too tragic. But it was also far too twisted to pass off as a fairy tale. 1 Innocent Victims Thanks to the efforts of the Torture Princess and her servant, the fourteen demons were successfully defeated and slain. Humanity's desperate fight had finally reached its conclusion. But the battle left the world acutely wounded, like a chessboard with cracks running down its surface. The Capital, in particular, had been scarred and defiled. And that had brought forth a new problem. The upper echelons of the Church, a number of their fanatics, and some of those who wished to escape the burden of having to restore the Capital sought to awaken the first demon, expand the destruction, and in doing so urge God to rebuild the world. They believed that when the world was mended, the pious faithful would remain. But that line of thinking was naive in the extreme and shallower than the dreams of a child. God created the world, and Diablo destroyed it. That was the extent of their existences. Rebuilding was nothing more than the act of blotting out the current portrait, then painting a new one on top of it. Other than the one holding the paintbrush, everyone would die. That was the answer awaiting them. Also, in the underbelly of the world, there existed those who had worked to bring those events about, and there existed those who had worked to prevent it. The Butcher was the former, and he had sold Vlad demon flesh in order to bring calamity down on the world. The fourteen demons were destroyed, but the damage they left was more than sufficient to push people into desiring the world's restructuring. The flower of malice was blooming proud and vibrant. The latter, those who worked to prevent it, were a group of alchemists, and they sacrificed their entire clan to bring forth a new Torture Princess. She was a maiden of salvation, a self-proclaimed oppressor of slaves, savior of the world, saint, and whore. Jeanne de Rais. On her guidance, Kaito and the others were currently deep in the sealed-away bowels of the Capital's underground tomb. The room they were in was modeled after a nursery. At first glance, it looked to be cutely adorned. But the decorations' true nature was that of grotesque agony. Living human heads were embedded in the walls in place of a floral wallpaper, and intestines dangled from torn stomachs on the ceiling in place of ribbons. And in the room's center sat a cradle. It seemed almost cruel how pure a shade of white it was. The cradle was rocking, as though to soothe the first demon slumbering within. As she stood before that overwhelmingly powerful, wicked entity, Jeanne made her haughty proclamation. "Now, dear Lovers, you understand the truth, and the gravity of the situation. Kaito Sena. Elisabeth Le Fanu. I know that the two of you are destined to fight each other to the death. But now you must throw that all away and serve me as faithful slaves." She turned her rosy gaze directly on the two of them. And when she did, Jeanne de Rais, the artificial Torture Princess, went on as though it were only natural. "At this rate, our world will be destroyed, and not so much as a trace will remain." Her words rang out through the chamber like a final verdict. "...Hmph." "...Hmm." Upon hearing what Jeanne had to say, both Kaito and Elisabeth abruptly crossed their arms. Then they closed their eyes, as if to scrutinize her order-like request. Elisabeth's beautiful face hardened, her expression serious, and Kaito's youthful face did the same. A few seconds passed. Then the two of them opened their eyes in unison. Neither of them had consulted the other. Without exchanging so much as a glance, they gave their replies. Not even a breath separated their overlapping refusals. Jeanne blinked repeatedly. Her head slumped as it tilted to the side. "You made your decisions rather promptly, didn't you, Lovers? Moreover, your answers themselves were outside my expectations. And 'surprising' hardly begins to describe the speed with which you responded. Please state your reasons." "First, 'tis wholly unclear what actions you intend to take hereon in search of this salvation of yours or what have you." Elisabeth raised her forefinger. The black varnish on her nail glittered as she spun it aimlessly around in the air. "Even if you tell me to become your servant, I have no intention of agreeing while unable to verify the validity of your plans and directions. And even prior to that, another problem arises. Do I look to you to be a laudable enough woman to labor like a slave under the direction of another?" "Yeah, nope, not seeing it." Elisabeth pointed at herself, her face fiendish and cruel. Behind her, Kaito nodded earnestly. The two of them then traded an inane exchange. "I have no desire to hear that from you. I shall kill you for that later." "Wait, why?!" Seeing them on their normal behavior despite the time and place, Jeanne tilted her head to the other side. "I see. That seems logical enough. Even the last section felt oddly persuasive. And your other reasons?" "Second, you clearly have intentions of dragging us into some battle for the sake of salvation, do you not? And with no regard for our thoughts on the matter, at that. Why, then, should we content ourselves with being your servants? I see little benefit. We have little proof that your true motives are worthy of such faith." "I see, I see. And what else?" "Third, Kaito, you tell her." Elisabeth turned to Kaito and gave a sharp gesture with her chin. The two of them still hadn't consulted with each other. But in spite of that, he took over her speech with utmost ease. "Thing is, we just don't like you that much. That's all." "I see. Illogical in the extreme." Jeanne bobbed her head up and down. But that was the extent of her reaction. She didn't seem satisfied, but she didn't seem dejected, either. She simply began spinning around on the spot, her left foot acting as her axle. The chains dangling from her thin wrists like a prisoner's jingled. "Then I can assume that you have no intention of becoming my servants, but you plan on maintaining our collaborative relationship? After tellin' you chucklefucks so many of the world's secrets, having to be enemies with you meatheads sounds like a bad time! As you can see, I'm just a sweet little girl, after all!" "The way you manage to offend is nothing short of superb, and your manner of speech is as disjointed as always. But I have no complaints with your conclusion. My servant's foolishness and goody-goody nature know no limits, so I'm all but certain he'd have gotten himself involved regardless, of course. But I am not he. Normally, I'd have lost interest altogether the moment you mentioned salvation." "Oh, do you intend on seceding, then? I'd like to see you try, bitch!" "Nay, I shall lend you my strength. And rejoice, for I intend to give it my utmost." A cruel smile accompanied Elisabeth's declaration. Kaito nodded, his expression devoid of surprise. Even though she'd been the one to ask for help, though, Jeanne plopped her head to the other side again in puzzlement. "For what reason?" "I slew the fourteen demons. I put them down, each and every one. I destroyed them." Suddenly, Elisabeth's tone grew cold and levelheaded. Her crimson eyes narrowed. Sharp bloodlust danced atop her tongue as the words slipped from her mouth. "But for that to be the mere opening act to the world being rebuilt? What an insipid farce. The ones who would laugh at the corpses I've left in my wake and accuse them of having died in vain shall perish by my hand. I shall kill them all. And in a manner befitting the name of Torture Princess, no less." Elisabeth gave a grand laugh. Her smile was beautiful, twisted, and evil. Seeming half-likely to lick her lips, she gave voice to her blasphemous proclamation. "Even if they are the Saint, even if they are Diablo, and even if they are God." "Bravo. I would expect no less from you. I would expect no less from the first Torture Princess, the woman who willingly gave herself to sin." Jeanne loudly clapped, the chains on her wrists jingling like a tambourine. Then, placing an open palm over her chest, she gave an elegant bow. With a great display of pride, Jeanne endorsed Elisabeth's statement. "Indeed, precisely. It would not do for us to be anything but haughty and proud. For without our human deeds surpassing those of God and Diablo, how could we possibly hope to bring about salvation?" "Hmm," pondered Kaito. On a basic level, Jeanne displayed the same arrogant disposition no matter who she was dealing with. But with Elisabeth, her reactions seemed to be of a slightly more positive bent. The plan to create a Torture Princess must have started way long ago. But back then, they probably hadn't arrived at the name "Torture Princess" yet. And it's probably not just her speechâ€”she likely used Elisabeth as a point of reference for her actions, too. Perhaps Jeanne held a degree of respect toward the woman she'd used as a template. Elisabeth, though, seemed like she couldn't care less about Jeanne's admiration. She gave a small shrug. As she did, Izabella interrupted their conversation. "I apologize for the intrusion, but isn't it rather dangerous to be making such an uproar down here? If you'll forgive me, you've all been rather loud the last few minutes... What do you intend to do if that thing wakes up?" At the moment, Izabella was being carried by Deus Ex Machina, the living, four-in-one weapon Jeanne had summoned as a servant. Sitting in its metal arms, she was looking at the cradle with a pallid expression on her face. Her eyes were filled with primal terror. Kaito and Elisabeth turned their gazes toward the first demon as well. It was still deep in slumber. But if it's asleep, that means it's eventually gonna wake up. As a matter of fact, the group scheming to have the world rebuilt was actively hoping for that thing to awaken. But just as unease began welling up within Kaito, a voice suddenly called out from beside him to refute it. "Put your mind at ease. You needn't worry about that, I daresay." Kaito turned to look at the voice's owner. A man wearing an aristocratic coat with a cravat was floating beside him, his legs crossed elegantly in the air. The man was Vlad Le Fanu, the Kaiser's previous contractor and Elisabeth's foster fatherâ€”or, to be more precise, a replica of his soul. The smile that spread across his face bordered on beautiful. "After all, its contract with its master yet stands." Vlad was a mere phantasm, and as such, the forces of gravity held no sway over him. He floated gently through the air on