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A lone man was bound within a pitch-black prison.
It was the Holy King. His hands and feet were shackled in chains, his body a map of blood and bruises. The grisly marks left by his recent torture were agonizing to look at.
Despite his condition, the Holy King wore a peaceful expression, his breathing soft and rhythmic as he slumbered. In stark contrast, the Angel Torturer standing before him was drenched in sweat.
"Guh... Wake up!"
The Torturer raised his voice and lashed his whip.
With a sharp crack, the Holy King’s body jolted. He slowly opened his eyes and let out a cavernous yawn.
"Fuaah... Good morning. And thanks for the hard work. Has it been about half a day yet?"
It had been two days, not half a day.
His temple twitching at the prisoner’s excessively relaxed demeanor, the Torturer snatched up a branding iron and pressed it against the Holy King’s chest. The sickening stench of searing flesh drifted through the air, yet the Holy King remained nonchalant.
"Don't get cocky, human. You defied God; you have no future. Your only fate is to be tormented like this until the day you die!"
"Hot, hot. I’m actually reflecting on my actions in my own way, you know? That’s why I’m bothering to sit through such a dull torture session. I’d really appreciate it if you valued my cooperative attitude, honestly."
"Reflecting? You aren't doing any such thing, you bastard!"
The Torturer slammed the branding iron into the Holy King’s face with all his might, but the man only responded with a carefree smile.
"And how would you know? I might actually be reflecting, for all you know. I don't think it's very good to make such arbitrary assumptions. It's because you're like that that you never get promoted and are still stuck in a crummy job like 'Torture Clerk,' isn't it?"
"...Guh, you...! Don't mock me!"
Thud! Thud! Thud! The sounds of the beating echoed through the prison.
But while the Torturer panted heavily, the Holy King remained unfazed.
"I can't help but want to voice a few grievances. Lately, Mr. God has been way too fixated on the world below. He's a god; he should just sit back and act dignified. Is he maybe... scared? What do you think?"
"How should I know!"
Even as the branding iron fell again and again, the Holy King continued regardless.
"I mean, think about it. If Mr. God is scared of the strong, then wouldn't you say he's not much different from a human anymore? Is it really okay to follow someone like that? If you guys are too afraid to say it, then shouldn't I, as the Holy King, be the one to speak up? If I don't tell him, he'll never realize how strange he's being, and that would just be pitiful for Mr. God."
"God does not possess such petty emotions!"
"No, no, he definitely got angry, which is why I'm being tortured like this... Oh, right there. That actually feels kind of good."
"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
The torture grew even more frenzied, but the Holy King didn't mind at all. Instead, it was the Torturer's face that gradually twisted with impatience and fear.
"I mean, Mr. God has lived for what, tens of thousands of years? It wouldn't be weird if he started getting a bit senile, right? It’s about time he leaves things to the next generation. Don't you guys have any opinions from the rank and file? If you want, I can say it for you. This level of punishment is like a fart in the wind to me anyway."
"God is the one and only existence! We simply obey him! There is no need for him to listen to such trivial opinions!"
"Good grief, such blind faith."
Watching the Holy King let out a sigh, the Torturer gnashed his teeth.
"Tch... It seems physical torture has no effect. I had heard rumors about you, but to think it went this far..."
"Ahaha, it does technically hurt, you know. It’s just that it might be a little difficult for someone of your level to actually make me feel pain."
As the Holy King laughed provokingly, the Torturer returned a distorted smile of his own.
"...Hehe, I wonder how long that bravado will last?"
"?"
Turning his back to the questioning Holy King, the Torturer held his hand out toward empty space and began to mutter an incantation.
"Answer my call and appear, Window of the Celestial Realm. Reflect the scenery of the world below."
With a low hum, space warped, and a window of magical power manifested. It displayed a peaceful rural landscape on the surface. People were working the fields, chatting and laughing happily together.
Looking down at the Holy King, who had finally frozen at the sight, the Torturer wore a distorted grin.
"Your expression finally changed, didn't it? Heh... That's right. This is the village where you were born. It looks like it’s just in time for the harvest. Everyone looks so busy... A peaceful, idyllic time is such a wonderful thing, isn't it?"
Smirking, light gathered at the Torturer's fingertips. Radiant Armament—countless Arrows of Light—were deployed, swirling in a deadly vortex. In coordination, similar arrows began to gather in the sky above the village.
"Y-You, surely you don't mean...!"
"Hehe, your face has finally turned pale. Good grief, I should have done this from the start. The Sole God is surprisingly soft. This is a punishment for the impudence you've shown. This is what happens when a mere human defies an Angel."
The Torturer toyed with the Arrows of Light gleefully, looking down at the Holy King with pure sadistic delight.
"Now then, you understand what will happen to these people if I move this finger even a little, right? Then be a good boy and—Guberah!?"
Before he could finish his threat, the Torturer's neck snapped in an unnatural direction.
It was a kick. Immediately after the Holy King realized this, a thunderous explosion erupted, and a cloud of dust shrouded the area.
"Cough, cough... Wh-What on earth...?"
In front of the coughing Holy King, the smoke swayed violently.
"...Hmph. To think I couldn't even kill a piece of trash like that. This Binding that restricts me from attacking anyone but that brat is beyond annoying."
Emerging from the clearing smoke was Guisarm. Clicking his tongue, he slowly lowered his leg.
"If it isn't Gizagiza. Don't tell me you came to rescue me?"
"As if, you moron. ...Besides, you don't exactly need my help."
"How cruel. I'm just a cowardly, fragile human, you know?"
"I have no intention of playing along with your stupid comedy routine. Get out of there already."
"Yes, yes, I hear you. ~♪"
With a humming tune, the chain binding the Holy King's left arm shattered with a sharp crack. Then his right arm, followed by both legs, were easily smashed as he regained his freedom.
Guisarm watched the Holy King roll his neck and shoulders to stretch, then let out a sigh.
"Hmph. As if someone who shatters Celestial chains—which are far harder than Radiant Armament—like they were made of candy could ever be a 'mere human.'"
"Magical Song: 'Song of Power,' humming version. Well, as a pacifist, I don't really like this sort of thing."
"...Well, whatever."
Looking behind Guisarm, the Holy King saw several holes punched through the wall. The hardness of the Hell-Cloud Rock that made up the Celestial Prison was incomparable to the chains. An ordinary Demon wouldn't be able to leave a single scratch on it.
You're enough of a monster yourself; you're one to talk, the Holy King whispered to himself.
"Ah? Did you say something?"
"I said 'you saved me.' I have my own share of shackles, you see. I couldn't exactly defy God too openly. Though I did want to give him a piece of my mind... Oh, this is your influence, by the way."
"...Hmph."
With a snort, Guisarm vanished along with a gust of wind.
"Hmm, he's a busy one."
Normally, now that he had served his purpose, the Holy King should have sent that dangerous Demon back to the Void... but his intuition told him he should leave him be. Therefore, he decided he hadn't seen anything.
Watching the lingering traces of magical power drift away on the wind, the Holy King murmured to himself.
"...Still, it's strange. Normally, I shouldn't even be able to break these chains."
The Holy King could use the power of God through his Magical Songs. However, he could not use that power to rebel against God. It was only natural; God wouldn't lend his power to someone trying to slap him in the face. Attacking the Torturer, let alone escaping from the prison, fell under that category... So why had the chains snapped so easily?
Come to think of it, the fact that he had even summoned a Demon—the polar opposite of the Celestial Realm—was strange in itself. Was something happening...?
"...Well, whatever. This power has always been kind of unstable anyway."
Magical Songs were heavily influenced by the user's mental state and physical condition, in addition to simple magical power. It was a fluctuating ability that could sometimes produce effects far beyond its specs, and other times fail to activate at all.
Deciding that thinking about it further was a waste of time, the Holy King cut off his thoughts.
"Hey, Mr. God? I’ve reflected enough, so I can leave now, right?"
He tried calling out, but there was no response from God.
"Good grief, talk about a dereliction of duty," he muttered.
The Holy King placed his hands on the bars, snapped them like twigs, and stepped out of the prison.
"Well then, old man, I'm heading off now. Bye-bye."
He waved his hand at the unconscious, collapsed Torturer and walked away.
Silence returned once more to the dim prison.