Torture Princess: Fremd Torturchen, Vol. 4

by Keishi Ayasato

  “In the course of the slaying of the fourteen demons, the chessboard sustained heavy damage. The upper echelons of the Church, a number of their fanatics, and some of those who wish to escape the burden of having to restore the Capital seek to awaken the first demon, expand the destruction, and in doing so, urge God to rebuild the world. They believe that when the destroyed world is restored, the righteous devotees will remain.”

  “There’s no way. That line of thinking is way too optimistic.”

  Kaito replied, his voice cold. Of all the people present, his knowledge pool was the shallowest. But despite that, he was confident in his assertion. Ever since he’d seen La Mules firsthand, he’d known.

  God created the world, and Diablo destroyed it. That was all there was to their respective existences.

  The fact remained that neither was an entity man was meant to interact with.

  “Yes, very much so. Rebuilding is the act of blotting out the current painting, then drawing a new one atop it.”

  Jeanne reaffirmed Kaito’s sentiments. Kaito envisioned the scene in his mind.

  People were frolicking atop a massive canvas and painting a picture. But now, warped fissures ran across the painting. Then someone sitting in front of the canvas abruptly picked up a brush.

  And the first thing they did was paint over the picture with black.

  “If a new world is born, then all humanity with the exception of the Saint, the painter, will perish. I was created to prevent that. But my knowledge of the common world is lacking. The alchemists lacked the power to accompany me, instead choosing to die and become my nourishment, but their final request to me was that I made sure I found suitable servants.”

  After having heard what Jeanne had to say, Kaito was now keenly aware of the difference between Jeanne’s “salvation” and the Church’s. One side wanted to preserve the world as it was, and the other wanted to build the world anew.

  I still don’t know what motive the Butcher had for selling demon flesh, though.

  No matter what reason he may have had, though, the seeds of evil he’d planted had successfully borne fourteen demonic fruits.

  And he’d described Kaito and Elisabeth’s resistance as “unexpected.”

  Not knowing that the stage they’d been fighting atop had been prepared long before, the two of them had taken up the sword and fought. Countless people had died in the course of their desperate resistance. But apparently, their efforts had changed nothing.

  Right now, the final flower was trying to bloom. And Jeanne was trying to nip it in the bud.

  Then the maiden of salvation who proclaimed herself the saint and the whore gave her haughty continuation.

  “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.

  Afterword

  Hello, Keishi Ayasato here.

  We’ve finally arrived at Volume 4.

  Thank you all so much for buying the fourth volume of Torture Princess.

  The new Torture Princess has finally arrived, and we’ve entered a new chapter of the story.

  A number of the world’s secrets were all revealed at once this time—what did you all think? The upcoming twists and developments will build right off the big events that just happened, so I suspect things will continue on at a nonstop pace from here on out, too. To tell you the truth, I’m actually working on Volume 5 as I write this afterword, and I’m planning on pounding out page after page after page, so please look forward to the story’s continuation. Also, I had the rare chance to write an extremely lovey-dovey scene in this book, which was a lot of fun. I hope we meet again in the next volume, where you can find out, among other things, if the two of them are able to continue enjoying their filthy normie lives.

  Oh, and while we’re on the subject of Torture Princess, it was fortunate enough to receive a manga adaptation!

  The wonderful Hina Yamato is in charge of the adaptation, and it’s being serialized by ComicWalker and Nico Nico Seiga. Elisabeth is more beautiful than ever, and the Knight’s underling and Iron Maiden are drawn in such detail and with such impact. I’m filled to the brim with gratitude. Hina Yamato is such a skillful craftswoman, and the manga was so wonderful that I found myself engrossed to the point where I read through the whole thing in one sitting. It would make me oh-so-very happy if you all checked it out.

  The official Twitter account, @goumonhime, is also up, so please take a look at that as well.

  In addition to the manga adaptation, I was given the privilege of writing a series of short stories. At the time of this writing, Chapter 1: Kaito’s Daily Routine (Frontside) just came out. And if there’s a Frontside, there must, of course, be a Backside as well. In it, I decided to take a look at the daily lives of Kaito, Hina, Elisabeth, and the other characters. It’s coming out alongside Hina Yamato’s manga adaptation, so I hope you all look forward to it. It’s going to be a heartwarming story, but perhaps a little disquieting as well. And as always, Ms. Ukai drew a beautiful illustration for it! Truly, it’s a feast for the eyes!

  Back when I was in Torture Princess’s planning stages, I never dreamed it would become a mixed-media franchise. I’m so deeply grateful for these unexpected opportunities I’ve been receiving. All this is thanks to Ms. Ukai, Ms. Hina Yamato, my editor O, my designer, everyone involved on the publishing and the mixed-media sides of things, and above all else, all of you readers. Not a day goes by where I don’t feel thankful. The only way I can think of to repay you is to write the most interesting stories I possibly can, so I plan to keep working as hard as I can. I’m going to give it my all!

  And as always, thanks to my family for all your support. And I’ll sneak in an extra big thanks for my sister, who always gives me advice when I need it most.

  And one last giant thanks to my readers!

  It brings me such happiness to have my story read by so many people and in so many ways, both through novels and through manga. I’m going to go full speed ahead on the future volumes, so I hope you all look forward to it.

  And on that note, I pray we will reunite someday.

  As the world’s skin peels back,

  the story will continue until it reaches its end.

  Thus, He Spoke

  He dreamed.

  A dream of long, long ago.

  He was being held up in a pair of warm, white arms.

  From the moment he was created, he had been complete.

  He was unseemly, and completely different from all other living creatures. Because of that, he’d never had a chance to rely on the assistance of another. He’d never had the body of an infant. So that was the first and final time in his long, long life that someone had ever held him.

  Back when the world was yet white, he was the first thing they’d created.

  No matter how long he lived, he would never forget what he’d seen as he first attained awareness in those slender arms.

  It was but the faintest of memories, but it came to define the entire rest of his life.

  It was the reason he’d accepted the demon flesh.

  She’d appeared one day carrying a lump of something swaddled in red cloth. This was before she had ever shed tears of blood, or was hung upside down, or was spoken of far and wide.

  She’d cast an affectionate smile toward the thing in the cloth, the kind one might offer to a baby.

  Within it was a dark-crimson mound of flesh.

  She was carrying demon flesh.

  The moment he saw it, he graspe
d just how deep her madness and malice ran.

  But when she passed it to him with the reverence one would have for their own child, he took it and held it tight. And even knowing how horrible it was, how profane it was, he protected it so as to pass it on to future generations.

  Even knowing how wrong everything was becoming, that was the choice he made.

  This is a story from long, long ago.

  It is a tale too horrible to be called Genesis, too tragic.

  That was why he chose to call it a fairy tale.

  Despite the grand role he’d been assigned, he had no name.

  She had never thought to give him one.

  In his heart, he knew. He knew exactly how little he meant to her.

  She felt no need to name him, nor even give him a nickname. She had no reason to call for him. As long as he acted as her apostle, that was all she needed from him.

  After all, he was nothing more than another one of the seeds of evil she’d planted.

  He was one of the seeds she’d buried away in the nooks and crannies of the paint-covered canvas. He wasn’t even allowed to die of his own volition. That was how meager of an existence he was.

  But even though he’d known that, he still took his order to heart and lived his life accordingly.

  It was almost too long a time to be considered “life,” however.

  Even meaningless battles can lead to valuable encounters. In following with his other order, he fought to solidify human society and build a foundation for the circulation of goods.

  The foundation of the Five Great Guilds brought a degree of peace to the land, but the battle against the Legend Dragon and the war over the rights to the Mana Egg were nevertheless fierce in the extreme.

  There was also no shortage of people who named themselves in the same fashion as he, such as the Egg Seller and the Fishmonger, and they fought among themselves a great deal. But thanks to various turns of events, they helped give stability to the trade routes he’d pioneered.

  He’d met countless people, and it was impossible to count all those he’d parted ways with.

  They’d all been his friends, but in a much greater sense, they’d all just been his enemies. He’d run into people from all walks of life and shared drinks, songs, and journeys with them. Even though he was the world’s enemy, he worked hard as a merchant to help it flourish.

  Now, those bygone days seemed like they’d been mere fleeting phantoms of the past.

  Ah, the memories… Good heavens, though, I’m rather impressed I was able to sleep in a position such as this. Perhaps singing my own praises is gauche, but I suppose there’s nobody left to listen anyways, is there?

  Having just opened his eyes inside the Gibbet, the Butcher found himself lost in idle thought.

  Say, for instance, the five thousand men he’d had under his command.

  Say, for instance, the ten thousand friends he’d made.

  Say, for instance, the three people he’d held great affection for.

  If someone were to ask him, “Did you ever find it painful,

  when you looked at them and saw how radiant they were?”

  He would assuredly answer “No.”

  Just that one word. No.

  He’d truly had fun along the way. And the joy it had brought him had been real as well.

  Especially as of late—the days he’d spent in the castle he’d visited and surveyed had been exceptional. He’d grown fond of the little trio, and he’d really loved idly dropping by to make merry.

  He enjoyed it when customers appreciated his goods, and it brought him joy to hear them espouse how delicious they were. He was sad when they got hurt, and thrilled when they thanked him.

  But there was nothing more to it than that.

  That was something the Butcher could say decisively.

  “If Mr. Dim-Witted Servant were here, I’m sure he’d describe that as sad. What a good-hearted young man he is.”

  The Butcher muttered quietly to himself from within the Gibbet. He’d liked him so much that he’d given them a hand looking after the lovely automaton, even going so far as to lend her his strength.

  The Butcher then skillfully shifted his weight, causing the cramped cage to rock. Its sturdy chain rattled and creaked. After giving up on that strategy, the Butcher looked out over the room. Not even scraps remained from his earlier feast.

  According to Elisabeth, the troll arm had been dreadful. However, the rare slime-steak had been surprisingly palatable. The dragon tail, on the other hand, had been far too tough. It had gotten the worst reception of them all.

  He’d had little reason to come out of his way and cook meat for the Torture Princess. Yet he had. And this was what had become of him. Even so, though, he had no regrets.

  He didn’t think of it as sad at all.

  The time had always been coming, and now it had come. That was all there was to it.

  “…For that is the type of creature I am, after all.”

  All for you, my dear customers.

  And all for one.

  He’d lived his life up until then by those two contradictory principles.

  And in all likelihood, he’d keep doing so to the very end.

  Say, for instance, the five thousand men he’d had under his command all died.

  Say, for instance, the ten thousand friends he’d made all perished.

  Say, for instance, the three people he’d held great affection for all went to their slumber furious.

  If none of them ever smiled at him again,

  that would surely be painful.

  But there had only ever been one moment in which his life had been given meaning.

  “…Now then, as the enemy of the world, I suppose I’d best start acting the part.”

  Suddenly, the Butcher let out a murmur.

  Then he spat out an intricately tangled wire from within the darkness of his hood. Then, still standing, he dislocated his wrist. With movements no human could have executed, he wriggled his limp arm and began using the wire to fiddle with the Gibbet’s door.

  Eventually, the lock clicked open.

  For just a moment, the Butcher narrowed his eyes.

  The moment he left would truly mark the beginning of the end.

  He would have to start acting in a manner befitting the enemy of all that lived.

  And for that reason, he let out a faint murmur.

  “I thoroughly enjoyed myself, Madam Elisabeth, Ms. Lovely Maid, Mr. Dim-Witted Servant. That’s as true as true can be. The living need fun in order to keep on living, after all. And when I watched you all fight back against it, you were truly, truly radiant. Even so…”

  The Butcher threw the door open wide. His voice went low when he finally picked up where he’d left off.

  “…Even so, the fairy tale must come to an end.”

  And then, with a tap,

  the enemy of the world hopped down onto the stone floor.

  Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Yen On.

  To get news about the latest manga, graphic novels, and light novels from Yen Press, along with special offers and exclusive content, sign up for the Yen Press newsletter.

  Sign Up

  Or visit us at www.yenpress.com/booklink