God shall be your salvation.' Believing that God shall be our salvation, no matter what may happen, is a form of faith as well." "I, don't. I, don't. I don't, understand very well." "Once, I prayed. I prayed so fervently that my knees left impressions in the stone floor. For a hundred days, a thousand days, I prayed for salvation." A few words had suddenly escaped the boy's mouth. Due to the burden that came with bearing a direct link to God, the vast majority of saints had lost their memories. However, it seemed he still remembered. Upon hearing that unusual statement, the girl's eyes went wide. She asked him a question. "Did you, find, salvation?" "No, I didn't. The illness in my almshouse killed everyone. But after I moved past the rage and despair, I found that prayer had saved my heart. It was then that I wished to devote the short life I'd been given to saving others. And this holy transformation is the result of that. The stronger the wish, the stronger the link. Even though you don't have your memories, I'm sure all of you were the same." "Were, we? Were, we, really? Could, it have, been?" "I don't believe either the Grave Keeper or La Christoph were mistaken. As the sheep, it's our job to choose how we believe in God. We're weak. We can't live without projecting our hopes and wishes onto God. That is why, after we offer up prayer for prayer's sake alone, we must believe from the bottom of our hearts that His true form is beautiful." This time, the fish that splashed up was gold. The boy instantly began aging. His face wrinkled up once more. He slowly raised a hand, the veins on it so thick that they looked almost like welts. "That is, why, he, and I, are here." "...Yeah. I guess, you're right. We're all, here, together." The man and the girl gazed directly at La Christoph. Even though the end was upon them, he had patiently waited for the girl to make her decision. Eventually, she reached out her arm, grabbed the man's hand, and squeezed it tight. Thus, the ring was complete. The next moment, even though nobody had touched them, all the saints' shackles came free. They crashed to the ground, crushing snowflakes as they landed. With no signal, the saints began a chorus. Its solemn, mysterious tone caused the very air to ripple. "Ah, aah, ah, AH, ahh, Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹A!" A school of fish. Rainbow light. Drops of blood. In concert with the voices, they all spread out at once. They made for the center, where La Christoph stood. He solemnly spread out his arms, parting his long, black hair. Glittering lights began violently coalescing within his exposed rib cage. The fanciful animals and fluids the other saints had emitted were being sucked inside. From the very start, he'd had a flock of white skylarks kept within his ribs. Now those small birds were voraciously consuming everything else that came in. The skylarks in La Christoph's ribs melted together, then expanded. It was as though a new organ had sprung forth from within him, then became engorged and started encroaching on the rest of his body. Great pain seemed to accompany the transformation, as his body violently convulsed. La Christoph spat up an unseemly mass of blood and saliva. Even so, he managed to wring his voice out. "We...gather...and...wait." As he spoke, his rib cage opened up. It was like a rusty gate being cast open. Eventually, his bones had completely blossomed. A pair of white wings shot out. It was a massive bird, larger than even the ones La Mules had once summoned. It split the air with a cry so high-pitched that human ears failed to register it. La Christoph, the Modest Birdkeeper, spoke with unnatural fluidity. "We lay unto you our humble complaint, O Lord!" "Ah, aah, ah, AH, ahh, Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹A!" The bird flapped its wings. Then it flew so fast that human eyes couldn't possibly make it out. The only things visible were the white feathers falling like snow in its wake. It barreled into the underlings that were stationed as the Diablo pillar's permanent guard. In an instant, the fly-shaped creatures were evaporated. This intense opening salvo instantly drew the enemy's attention. Taking full advantage of the opening, the beastfolk launched their attack as well. "Readyâ€”fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire!" Arrows rained down on the flies from their flank. Normally, physical attacks should have had little effect, even if they came from consecrated weapons. And all the more so, given how close they were to the Diablo pillar. Yet each of the underlings the arrows struck twitched and toppled to the ground. As she watched their deaths through her telescope, Valisisa let out a hearty laugh. "Heh, just like we thought. The effects of that flesh-searing poison are indiscriminate." The beastfolk were using poison arrows. And the poison had come from none other than the underlings themselves. The healers had taken the recovered corpses, analyzed them, and reproduced the venom. Furthermore, Kaito had flooded all the poison with mana, doubling its potency. In order to prevent friendly fire, they could only use it at the very start of the battle. But as an opening move, the blow it dealt was more than telling. Countless underlings had been felled, and the wall surrounding the pillar collapsed. Three waves of soldiers began making their advance. Vlad murmured, as though he were a spectator at a sporting event. "Both sides have started by advancing their pawns, it would seem." "Yup. So far, everything's going according to plan. No problems yet." Kaito nodded. Beside him, two bat-like wings were beating against the air. The Kaiser was a beast who could change his size at will, so Kaito was sitting atop his gigantic demon alongside Hina and Vlad. At the moment, the supreme hound's physique surpassed even that of a dragon. Below them, the underlings' dwindling ranks were being divided into three groups. Kaito and his team were able to slip through the opening and rush toward the Diablo pillar unnoticed. As they did, though, the atmosphere began changing. A cloying, roselike aroma filled the air. A wicked smile spread across Vlad's face. As she held down her hair, Hina widened her eyes. "Oh-ho-ho, here it is." "Master Kaito..." "Yeah, I know. This is where the real fight starts." The Diablo pillar was getting ready for the sixth wave, so it was currently dormant. Even in the depths of slumber, though, it was still a destructive force meant to annihilate the world. It shuddered, as though it were alive. The roses decorating its mysterious surface all reverted to buds, like they were men's eyes or women's lips closing. However, they soon reopened, and when they did, something had been born amid their dozens of petals. Massive figures dripping with mucus descended from within the meaty petals. It was like some sort of horrific childbirth. They cascaded through the air, and when they landed, everything shook. The icy ground split open. Several soldiers screamed as they toppled into the abyss. Vlad stroked his chin, then let out an amused chuckle. "Heh, I suppose that would make these knights or rooks, then." The things shook their bodies to clear themselves of the mucus. The sticky membrane covering them came off, too. Upon being freed, they rose to their feet. When Kaito saw their colossal, black figures, he was reminded of some words he'd once heard. He recalled the fragmentary memories the Saint had seen during her visions of the end-time. "Azure blades cleaving through the earth. Black titans." The black titans were composed of intertwined briars. Thousands of bones were packed inside each of their bodies, reinforcing their contours from within. In their hands were huge, azure axes, designed to decapitate, with sizes befitting the titans' forms. It was like an encore of the old world's death being played before their eyes. Yet in a way, the black titans resembled the Torture Princess's Boondock Saints and Wicker Man, too. Each time the Diablo pillar created an unusual underling, it probably based it off memories from the person who was serving as its sacrifice. However, these things it had made looked even more executioner-esque. And because the axes had round, spade-like blades, the titans gave off the impression of a gravedigger as well. That analogy is probably accurate in more ways than one. After all, the black titans had appeared to bury the old world. They calmly strode forth, giving all the living cause to mourn. The simple truth of the matter was that size alone was sufficient to be threatening. The larger someone was, the more destructive their attacks would be. Conversely, any damage they sustained likely wouldn't be fatal. If enough ants gathered together, they could take down an elephant. But if the elephants' ranks swelled as well, it was a different story altogether. Sooner or later, the armies would be wiped out. And to make matters worse, the titans didn't have any obvious weaknesses. Ironically, the one trait the three races could capitalize on was how big of a target the titans were. In other words, any attack they launched was highly likely to hit. "Ah, aah, ah, AH, ahh, Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹Aâ€‹A!" The saints shot off yet another bombardment. White birds pierced through the abdomens of three of the titans. Each of them toppled over, scattering bones and flame as far as the eye could see. The vines making up their bodies came undone, and several uninjured titans were caught up in them. One even got completely entangled and toppled over headfirst. "Attack! And if it starts moving, withdraw!" Avoiding the fissures in the ground as they ran, the beastfolk swarmed the downed titan. Matters regarding vegetation just so happened to be their specialty. In the blink of an eye, the beastfolk had severed the vines that made up its limbs. Bones tumbled out and scattered around. After they'd surgically dealt with the vines, the beastfolk all fled. The titan writhed. However, its limbs sat motionless. Eventually, the fallen titan was crushed underfoot by its comrades. The beastfolk's attack pattern seemed almost comedic. However, Vlad muttered in admiration. "Hmm... La Christoph, was it? It would appear the saint's shots were aimed with precisely that chain reaction in mind. The fact that he's playing the role of a cannon all on his own is astounding enough, but to think he's able to maintain his sanity, too... If only he weren't a saint... What a tragic waste of that man's talents." "Hold up. You aren't planning anything sketchy like trying to recruit him, are you?" "Ha-ha! Worry not, my dear successor! As my king and my son, you are my one and only! My heart merely throbs when I see a talented individual, that's all." "Dunno how happy I am about that, either... They're putting up a better fight than I expected, but...things are starting to get ugly." There were two reasons why La Christoph had taken up the role of a cannon. Attacking the Diablo pillar was like sieging a castle. They'd realized heavy artillery would more effective than small arms, and a sledgehammer would be better yet. That was the first reason. The other was how poor the saints' endurance was. They weren't accustomed to battle. They would recover with rest, but they simply couldn't just fire repeatedly. In other words, by serving as the main cannon, La Christoph could not only amplify their power, but he could also help alleviate their burden. But even so, the saints were starting to convulse. In middle of their group, La Christoph's robes were stained red. Fresh blood was trickling down his jaw. But the fatigue the saints in the circle were suffering was far more severe. They only have a few more shots in them, huh? And to make matters worse, the horror of the situation was eroding the soldiers' mental