errors. Yet you say you love me still, knowing that love to be folly? Are you people truly that incorrigible?" "Absolutely!" The Saint's cynical, reproachful question was met with a resolute reply. Her mouth hung half-open in exasperation. However, the paladins were undeterred. They puffed up their chests in simple pride. "We know full well how many lies there were, and the Church's influence is nothing compared to its splendid days of yore. But even so, you were the one who made the world. That means that everything good in it came about because of you. What cause do we have, then, to lose our respect for you?! Our hearts are unchanging, Your Holiness! The Church may have been incorrect, but it was never errant. So, as such!" They thumped their large shields against the ground in succession. The shields were finely crafted, with blessings from priests carved into their very surfaces, and they offered a high degree of protection against dark magic. Sadly, though, against Alice, they might as well have been made of paper. However, they positioned themselves in front of the Saint in an attempt to defend her all the same. The fools went on. "We paladins believe in your suffering! You may have once hated us, but you still shouldered pain on behalf of ignorant wretches like us. That truth is noble in and of itself." "Ah... True enough." The Saint bit her lip and clenched her fists. A sort of difficult-to-describe passion crossed her expression for the first time. Elisabeth was well aware of the anguish the Saint had been through. Flocks of sheep were, fundamentally, stupid. And that was the way things ought to be. But was that ignorance not truly a sin? That factâ€”that hatredâ€”had been an obsession for the Saint. Now her entire body was trembling. Alice, who'd been watching everything play out, called over to them. "Are you done with story time now? In that case, I think it's time for everyone's insides to become outsides!" Alice rested her cheek softly against the Knight's back, and the Knight responded by raising his lance up high. Then he pointed it at the paladins. "If any deserve to have stones cast at them, if any deserve to be whipped, it is I." The Saint stepped forward. She moved as calmly as if she were walking on water, and as she did, she began shedding tears of blood from one eye. It's time for a story. A tale from long, long ago. Once upon a time, a preeminent genius was born in a world where war waged without end. Once she grew up, she realized that the cycle of violence and hatred was fruitless. Humanity, beastfolk, and demi-humans were all equal. Every living creature was ignorant, and every living creature was like a stupid animal. That was why she had to save them. After steadying her resolve to bring about salvation, she got to work. But she screwed up the method about as badly as she could have. And so, with a pop the world broke. Because of that, she had to carry out an atonement. But at the same time, she found herself struck by a particular question. She had tried to save the world. Yet for the rest of eternity, no one would ever consider what she had truly felt. They would hear only what they wanted to hear, see only what they wanted to see. Flocks of sheep were, fundamentally, stupid. That was the way things ought to be. But at the end of the day, was that not truly a sin? Was it? Truly? "You were absolutely right, Mad King. All living creatures are nothing more than ignorant, stupid animals. And that's what makes them worth protecting. Despite their ignorance, there is good in them. Our present situation was brought about by a confluence of all sins, mine included. Yet even so, nobody has the right to cast all people as sinners and judge them all as deserving of death." As the Saint spoke, her briars spread outward like a wave. Ivy rose up to block the lance strike. However, over half of it ended up getting sliced to bits. The shredded briar scattered. Then roses began blooming from the torn cross sections. A wave of azure and crimson gently swallowed up the lance's shock wave, and thousands of petals went dancing brilliantly through the air. However, that came with a price. The briars coiled themselves tight around the Saint, and blood gushed from her slender frame. The paladins let out cries bordering on screams. They called over to her in a panic. "Lady Saint! Lady Saint, your body!" The Saint offered no reply to their worried shouts. She just silently held her ground and watched carefully for when the next blast would come. Then, drenched in violent red as she was, she spoke with great deliberation. "I have spent a long time thinking about atonement. It consumed my thoughts, day in and day outâ€”as did what the Mad King said to me." As the lance strike vanished, Elisabeth leaped into action. At the moment, it was essential she buy time. She let out a small murmur. "Honey Candy." Honey began streaming down Alice's neck. Lilies had manifested in the air, and the golden liquid was spilling out from them. Next, a swarm of ants climbed up the glistening wave. They started gnawing on the honey and the arteries that sat beneath it. "Ack! What's going on?! This is nasty!" Based on Alice's screams, it would seem she was still vulnerable to physiological disgust. The plan was absurd, but it had worked nonetheless. Meanwhile, the Saint unraveled her briars for a time. She collapsed backward, like the strings holding her up had just been cut. The paladins rushed over to her. However, Izabella got to her first and propped up the Saint's gaunt back as she spoke. "Lady Saint, please don't do anything rash. If you hold still, I can get you healedâ€”" "'You just chose to be alone, that's all.' That's what he said to me. And he was right." The Saint didn't respond to her offer. Izabella said nothing to that, instead choosing to quickly cast some basic healing magic on her. As she did, the Saint continued her vacant murmuring. It was like she was giving a confession. "I went on a journey, and I saw that with my own eyes. Trade was bustling; the child did his job well. There were many who recognized this tattered cloak. He was called Butcher, he was loved, and he lived a good life, yet he never abandoned his task or forsook me. How, then, am I to repay him after I abandoned him so?" Elisabeth bit her lip. As she'd suspected, the Saint's outfit and its resemblance to the Butcher's had been an intentional choice on her part. Now, at long last, the Saint realized what it was she had lost. However, Elisabeth could think of nothing to say to her. The Butcher was dead. Regretting that now was an act of gross arrogance. Death closed all doors. Nothing she did would ever be able to reach him. Then the sound of burning fire filled their ears. It was accompanied by an adorable singsong voice. "Goodness me, it's hot. Or should I say that it hurts, I wonder?" Elisabeth's eyes went wide. Of all the ways Alice could have dealt with the ants, she had chosen to light herself on fire. The flames consumed her white hair, charring her skin as it bubbled and burst. Elisabeth surreptitiously shot a volley of stakes at her, but those went up in flames as well. However, all of Alice's burns healed right up. A moment later, her auto-immolated skin was as pristine and unscarred as if nothing had happened. Izabella, somewhat shocked by the rapid back-and-forth, let out a whisper. "Madam Elisabeth, would you be able to make another opening? She appears to still have some human sensation left in her. I was able to cut her arm, so if Jeanne and I aim for her neck this timeâ€”" "Best not. Even if you lopped her head clean off, she would merely sew it back on. Gouging out her heart might get us somewhere, but anything short of that, even piercing it through, would be as useless as beheading her. Her regenerative capabilities are unfathomableâ€”much as Kaito's were at the end, when he reached the point of no longer needing a heart." "Then what would you suggest? I find it difficult to imagine us ever finding an opening that big," Izabella replied in consternation. Elisabeth focused her crimson gaze on Alice's innocent figure. As she tried to gauge Alice's mana reserves and current capabilities, she thought through her options. Bull of Phalaris, Pied Piper of Hamelin... No, it's no use. It would take her little effort to overcome whatever I threw at her, even with ostentatious techniques such as those. The time they would buy isn't worth the mana they would cost me. But this chance we have now... We may not get another... Unlike Kaito Sena, Alice was still ostensibly mortal. All they needed to do was outpace her incredible regeneration, and that would be that. However, Elisabeth had no idea how they were supposed to accomplish that. Alice's current strength was second only to the Mad King's. Amid that air of frigid tension, the Saint moved once more. She pushed Izabella back and rose unsteadily to her feet. Then she spread her arms out and, without hesitation, stepped forward. "Shouldering everything is a sad, lonely lot. And thusâ€”" A trio of lances struck her briars. Even more blood gushed from the Saint's body. The paladins cried out again, shouting "Lady Saint!" like children calling out for their mother. A few of them even rushed forward, upon which the Saint grabbed them with her vines and dragged them back. That was when Elisabeth realized that the Saint's feet were no longer touching the ground. The briars were wound tighter around her than ever before, and their vines were holding her up and anchoring her in the air. It was like looking at a crucifixion. The Saint went on, her voice practically a hymn. "â€”I will act on behalf of that which I hated, that which I discarded, that which I tried to destroyâ€”and that which the child loved." Blood trickled down through her messy black hair. She didn't scream or cry, and there was nothing reflected in her ashen eyes but void. She stared forward, searching for someone that was no longer there. And in that moment, though she didn't know why, Elisabeth found herself reminded of some very sad words. Through her tears, she spoke. "Thank you for being born unto me," she said. That was all. And that was enough. I had fun. Madam Elisabeth, Mr. Dim-Witted Servant, Ms. Lovely Maid, really, truly, and deeply. And finally, thank you so much for your many years of patronage. Elisabeth felt as though she saw a cloak-clad figure waving off in the distance. She shouted at the top of her lungs. "This isn't the way, Saint! The Butcher would never have wanted you to sacrifice yourself in atonement!" "I imagine you're right. That's why I'm not doing this as the Saint. This is my story." By then the Saint was already high in the air. Red drops dripped from her feet. The paladins let out voiceless screams. They droppedâ€”practically crumpledâ€”to their knees and began fervently praying. The only one who remained standing was Izabella, who clenched her fists tight like she was forcing herself to endure. The Saint didn't mock the paladins for their incorrigible display. She simply spoke, there at the center of their prayers, as a single, lone individual. "This is my tale of repentance, dreams, and hatred." Determination's light glowed in her expression, and a hitherto unseen strength peeked out from her red eyes. Elisabeth realized something as