Chapter 1

Waltzer Prison.

Located on the outskirts of the Luten Kingdom—the dominant power on the continent—and surrounded by rugged mountains and sheer cliffs, this place housed the worst of the great criminals sentenced to life imprisonment from across the land.

The surrounding forests grew somber and thick, tinged even with miasma. From that prison, where it remained dark even at noon, it was said that screams of agony resembling the howls of beasts would occasionally echo out.

Some said it was because heartless guards were torturing the inmates; others claimed the prisoners were engaged in gruesome deathmatches against one another for the sake of their release.

While the whispered rumors were many, they all shared a single core sentiment.

Waltzer Prison was a living hell.

It was said that once you were chained within those maggot-infested cells reeking of decay, even the most cold-blooded murderer would weep and beg for a death sentence just to escape the merciless abuse and dismal conditions.

Now then.

In a room within that loathsome prison, two figures were standing still amidst the darkness of night, their expressions cold.

One was a woman.

Even in a cell where only the faintest moonlight reached, she was an enchanting beauty with silver hair that shimmered dimly and a body of dazzling proportions.

However, the prisoner’s clothes she wore were torn wide at the chest, and there was a bruise on her cheek where she had been struck.

The other was a man standing as if to protect her, pinning “something” down with his long legs.

Though he was covered by a beard that had grown wild and black hair that billowed like a lion’s mane, his high bridge and striking sky-blue eyes hinted at a ruggedly handsome face.

He raised his mud-stained foot—denied even the luxury of shoes—and delivered a heavy kick to the “thing” crouching on the damp floor.

“Are you pretending to be asleep, Master Guard?”

“Gu… agh!”

Immediately, the “thing” that had been trodden upon by the man and was now kicked—a greasy man referred to as a guard—jumped up while clutching his ribs.

As the guard scrambled with flabby arms to pull his robe (embroidered with the holy crest of the Church) closer to himself, the man nonchalantly held up one hand.

“Is this what you’re looking for?”

In his large, masculine hand sat a crystal bead emitting a mysterious hue.

Threaded onto a string, it was a holy relic used by the Priests entrusted with the position of guard to contact the Church in times of emergency.

“Th… That! Why do you have that?! It is not something a lowly sinner should touch! It is a holy crystal! Give it back!”

The guard, who had transformed power and greed into layers of fat, screamed with wide eyes.

However, the man simply brushed away the flying spit with a look of annoyance and pinned the guard to the floor once again.

“Gugh—!”

“A lowly sinner? Is that so?”

The baritone voice, otherwise pleasant to the ear, suddenly took on a dangerous edge.

The man whispered down at the guard, putting more weight into his foot.

“And just who are you referring to as a ‘vile sinner’?”

“Guu…ugh…”

“The Hero who betrayed his country? The prostitute carrying the child of a demon? Or perhaps—it’s the man who claims to be a servant of God while abusing prisoners and attempting to rape a pregnant woman?”

“…Ugh… oh…!”

The guard’s face twisted in agony as the foot sank into his back.

Looking down at the massive body beginning to break out in a cold sweat, the man continued in a voice that was almost sweet.

“If a sinner has the right to judge a sinner, then naturally, I must have the right to judge you as well. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hieee…!”

There was an ominous, creaking sound of grinding bone.

If any more pressure were applied, his bones would undoubtedly shatter, or perhaps his internal organs would rupture.

Just as the guard, now pale as a sheet, began to foam at the mouth—

“—Wait, Gilbert.”

The woman, who had remained silent until then, finally spoke up.

“I appreciate you saving me, but you’re getting a little too worked up.”

“…However, Heidemarie.”

The woman called Heidemarie listlessly ran her fingers through her messy silver hair and let a thin smile play across her lips.

Then, she traced the red swelling on her own cheek and tilted her head slightly.

“Even like this, I was once called the most expensive woman in three kingdoms. Using a pig’s corpse as compensation for a swollen cheek wouldn’t come close to a proper apology; it would just be a nuisance.”

“Therefore,” she murmured, casting a brief, elegant glance behind her.

Forgetting for a moment that his spine was on the verge of snapping, the guard stared at the former high-class prostitute, but his face hardened when he noticed the door behind her swinging open.

“You lot are…”

Four men entered through the heavy stone and iron-barred door.

There was a boy who still retained a sense of innocence, a massive man built like a sturdy bear, an androgynous youth, and a calm-looking middle-aged man.

These four men, varying in nationality and crimes, stepped into the cell with genuine cheer, swinging their arms and legs—which should have been bound by sturdy chains—freely.

“H-How… how did you all break the Sealing Chains…?!”

“Sealing Chains? You mean these?”

The youngest boy chuckled as he held up a fragment of iron for the stunned guard to see.

“It’s a simple victory for science: ‘Holy Iron’ is no match for aqua regia (a highly corrosive mixture of nitric and hydrochloric acid), right?”

When he asked the others for agreement, he received three very different answers.

“…I didn’t need that. I just pulled them apart.”

“Oh, please. It’s obvious I peacefully brainwashed the other guards.”

“Everyone is so restless. A little bit of ‘persuasion’ was more than enough for me.”

The guard quickly cross-referenced the prisoners’ profiles in his mind and turned ghostly white.

A young mad scientist who repeated human experiments; a berserker who committed mass slaughter of rare animals in forbidden territories.

A kidnapper who performed mass brainwashing on the children of royalty and nobility; a swindler who bankrupted a national-scale public treasury through embezzlement.

Each of them had used their own specific “specialties” to escape their restraints.

“Wh-Wh-Wha…”

There were many things the guard should have checked—how they had slipped past the surveillance, or why they had gathered here.

However, before he could voice any of them, the beautiful prostitute, Heidemarie, smiled darkly.

“It’s your first time. Why don’t you make it cheap¹ for us, Master Guard?”

“Wha…?”

Her slender fingers stroked the wound on her cheek where blood was faintly seeping through.

“Waltzer Prison. I’ll settle for just this lovely castle. I want you to play the role of a puppet to make that happen.”

Her voice was like the ringing of a bell.

“What did you say…?”

“You’re a slow-witted pig, aren’t you? From this moment on, Waltzer Prison belongs to Heidemarie and the rest of us.”

As the guard cried out in shock, the androgynous youth immediately spat out the words with exasperation.

—Mastery.

As the word slowly soaked into his brain, the guard let out a twitching laugh.

“…D-Don’t talk nonsense. This is Waltzer Prison, a living hell! Forget mastery—if you were to harm so much as my pinky finger, the guards and Holy Beasts throughout the prison would rush here instantly and tear you to pieces—”

“The guards? And where might they be?”

His retort was cut short by the man’s flat voice.

The guard, conscious of the weight of the foot on his back, listened desperately—and was struck with horror when he realized there wasn’t a single sound coming from the hallway.

That was impossible.

Four—no, five, if he included the man treading on his back—criminals were wandering out of their cells, so why was no one, nothing, signaling an emergency?

“That’s… impossible… there are two hundred guards… fifty Holy Beasts… only five men, taking control of this vast prison…”

“Five?”

Suddenly, the man—Gilbert—lifted the foot that had been pinning the guard’s back and slammed it down on the same spot.

As the guard let out a sound like a crushed toad, Gilbert spoke coldly.

“He said Heidemarie and the rest of us. You’re wrong; it’s six.”

“Oh, that’s not right either, Gilbert.”

Then, Heidemarie let out a soft chuckle and gently placed her hand on Gilbert’s muscular arm.

While touching his arm to soothe him, she used her other hand to gently stroke her own stomach.

Then, with a smile that felt almost like genuine mercy, she declared to the crawling guard:

“—It’s seven.”