fought in Ragnarok. Then he went on. "'The Mad King's the only reason any of us made it out of there,' my brother kept telling me. 'If it weren't for him, we would've all just died.' The way I see it, it's our job as survivors to pay our respects to the person the Mad King was fighting to save... Even if that person is the Torture Princess." That was undoubtably what was causing him to falter. He was afraid that giving his report would be doing wrong by her. Upon realizing that, Elisabeth returned the man's gaze with a sharp one of her own. "Out with it already," she urged him. I've no need for compassion from a softhearted fool. And besides, the die's already been cast. His silence would do nothing to improve the situation. They could close their eyes and stuff their ears all they liked, but the tragedy would unfold all the same. Fleeing was no longer an option. Not for anyone. Certainly not for the Torture Princess. And as such, their only choice was to fight back. The civil official gulped at Elisabeth's stern glare. Then he spoke with renewed solemnity. "Forgive me... Now, it continues with the rebels' demands. Shall I read them out?" "Aye, tell us what it is they want." This time, Elisabeth urged him on out loud. He nodded and steadied his breathing. Then he gave them the rest in one go. "'If you would have us put a halt to your judgment, then we require compensation. A victim. A sacrifice. If you want us to spare you, then give us the Mad King and his bride in their crystalâ€”as well as the Torture Princess Elisabeth Le Fanu.'" There was a perceptible shift in the air. Everyone present gasped in unison. Izabella squeezed her forehead. Jeanne shrugged. And Vlad let out a small chuckle. Elisabeth, however, was silent. Their demand fell within her expectations. It was hardly worth getting worked up about. Though, that said... ...she was also acutely aware of what would happen next. Soon, the masses would become her greatest foe. That was the true threat lurking within those words. 2 The Suffering Women The room was red. It was dyed all over with the color of fresh blood, and it was the kind of scene that burrowed into your eyeballs and chipped away at your brain. However, the room itself was constructed in a normal manner. Firewood was stacked beside its hearth, and it had a cupboard decorated with ornaments. A chessboard sat atop its plain, well-built desk. Of all the room's minor sundries, it was the only one that stood out. For one, it had far too many pieces. Given the size of the desk, it shouldn't have been possible for the hundreds and thousands of them to all fit, but fit they did. There was clearly something odd about the board's width. And for another, each and every one of the pieces was intricately crafted. The knights were armed with swords, the bishops held their staves high, and the king was adorned with a proper crown. However, the pawns were all empty-handed. That in and of itself was yet another of the board's oddities. After all, what could be stranger than unarmed soldiers? But that was just the thing. The pawns represented the greatest force on the board, but although they resembled soldiers at first glance, they were actually something else entirely. In truth, they were the powerless masses. The vast majority of them had no ability to fight in their own defense the way the knights could. Even if calamity were to befall them, most of them would have no choice but to wait for the end to come. Suddenly a sonorous sound echoed. The boy had picked up a pawn and tapped it against the board. When he did, the pawn swelled between his fingers, popping and rupturing and transforming into chunks of blood and viscera. Its remains stained a section of the board dark red. Kaito Sena then spoke, his youthful face somber and grim. "Izabella and I had a conversation once. I told her that I couldn't save everyone." "Was that the one you two had the night before Ragnarok, when you came to the Capital to pick me up?" "Yeah, that's the one. That was the first time I learned that the mixed-race folk were being massacred." Kaito narrowed his eyes. Pureblood humans made up over 80 percent of the Capital's population, but that hadn't stopped the tragedy from occurring there. Up in the poverty-stricken north, where mixed-race people were more plentiful and therefore more visible, it went without saying how grim things had gotten. Especially once you considered how many of the attacks had gone unreported, the incident was bad enough to leave an ugly stain on the annals of history. That much had been apparent even as it was happening. Kaito's expression clouded as he went on. "This is what Izabella was worried about." "What is?" "'Even if we overcome this challenge, the world is too steeped in malice,' she told me. 'With all the animosity and fear the people will bear, I have no faith we'll be able to keep on living like normal.' Well, bad news..." Hina nodded sadly from the seat across from his. "It would appear that her fears were realized, weren't they?" The army facing off against Kaito was splayed out before her. However, she wasn't the one he was playing against. In fact, they weren't even playing chess. The scene laid out on the board was no game. It was a microcosm of the world. Either that or perhaps a grim parody made to look like one. Kaito picked up another piece. Yet again, it swelled up and burst. However, none of that was his doing. The pawns had been bursting all on their own for a while now, and each time they did, the enemy's ranks swelled by the same number. The new pieces looked like hideous babies, wet with blood and amniotic fluid. Demon grandchildren. They dwelled in the wombs of captured piecesâ€”human beingsâ€”and were born by devouring their mothers from the inside out. Kaito spoke as he watched the detestable process repeat itself again and again. "You and me, we're not gods. And for that matter, even God is just a naturally occurring phenomenon around these parts. Nobody has the power to save everyone. And that means...anyone who wants to save as many people as possible needs to know when and where to cut their losses." His voice was tinged with anguish. Such was the unpleasant choice the powerful sometimes found themselves faced with. Their forces were meager, and the territory to cover was vast. In other words, they could only station their soldiers in a finite number of places. Because of that, the rebels' raids had forced the three races to make a decision while they searched for the enemy stronghold. On Vlad's suggestion, they'd identified the areas where the rebels were likely to strike, ranked them in order of strategic importance... ...and abandoned everything below a certain threshold. The places they deemed unworthy of defending were left with little more than warnings and occasional patrols, and it was exactly such places where the mixed-race forces carried out their slaughter. Coldhearted as the three races' decision had been, though, it had proved fruitful. Ever since the loss of the first and second imperial beastfolk princesses and the saint representative, they'd avoided suffering any more notable deaths. "Of course you did," Vlad had quipped. "How could you get laid low by underhanded tricks when you have the help of the most underhanded man around?" However, the greatest outcome was, as always, the greatest good for the greatest number. True dominion of the board lay with those powerless pawns. In a sense, the masses were like a single sprawling ruler. The things they thought and said had profound effects on the rest of the board. For how could they not? "Revenge is impatient. Corpses speak louder than words. Fear warbles. And a fell wind blows. Now, then..." As he wove his abstract statement, Kaito carefully picked up another piece. It was a piece modeled in the shape of a slender womanâ€”the sinner, lording over the battlefield with long sword in hand. As always, it had been placed in front of the other pieces, protecting the powerless by squaring off against the grotesque enemy army. Yet despite that, there wasn't the slightest hint of fear on her face. She was unflinching, valiant, and beautiful. It was the saddest thing imaginable. Kaito narrowed his gaze. "...What's your play, Elisabeth?" The piece clicked against the board as he placed it back down. Then he snapped his fingers, and the chessboard vanished without a trace. All that remained in that red, crimson, scarlet room was silence. A loud clap echoed through the timeworn hall, casually shattering the still silence. It was followed by the sound of Vlad's overly theatrical voice. "Now, then! Some silly little questions to sort through what we know!" The plaster wall he was standing before was adorned with etchings of ivy and grapevines. However, the fine furniture the room should have housed was nowhere to be seen, and the windows were all shuttered up. The manor itself was lavish, but it was all too evident how long it had been abandoned for. The air inside hung gloomy and stale. Empty as his stage was, though, Vlad's voice rang as sonorously as ever. "How much do the masses truly know about the particulars of the reconstruction? On the night they survived the end of days, did the foolish sheep dream of the unvarnished truth? There can be but one answer!" His heels clicked as he strode forward. Suddenly, though, he wheeled around with an elegant spin. With his right palm laid atop his chest, Vlad extended his left hand before himself, chewing the scenery for all it was worth. "Nay. Nothing changed. The sheep remained as ignorant as ever, for they had nobody to hand them the fruit from the tree of knowledge. Now, of course, there were a great many things that did come to light in the end of days' wake." He paused for a beat, as though to gauge his audience's reaction. Ignoring Vlad would only make him all the more annoying, Elisabeth knew. Dealing with him required a certain degree of forbearance. As such, she decided to play along. She gave him a nod as she leaned against the wall. While she did, she quietly went over her own memories of that time. The three races forming their joint army. Their valiant battle against the higher entities at the World's End. The noble sacrifice of the mage who called himself the Mad King. Those were the kinds of glorious tales that had been recounted to the masses by none other than the human king himself. However, much of the information on Ragnarok had nobody to tell it but the mage merchants who took part in the battle themselves. All things considered, it was a fine trick. Many parts of the story were moving, well worthy of being passed down and told for millennia. Meanwhile, the less savory information could be quietly hushed up and forgotten. After all, the existence of Jeanne de Rais, a second Torture Princess, and the fact that Vlad Le Fanu and the Kaiser aided in the three races' struggle were but the tip of the iceberg. The Grave Keeper's true role, where the First Demon had lain, the Saint's malice, the details on how alien and cruel the God pillar wasâ€”that information was as dangerous as a poisoned blade or a sulfurous flame. If any of that had become widely known, it would have dealt a crushing blow to humanity's recovery. At best, it would have led to civil unrest and mass suicides, and at worst, it might have even sparked a war. To