Screaming Regrets from the Bottom of Hell
The paladin Amelda.
Throughout her life, she had lived by a few self-imposed principles.
She would not resist what seemed inevitable, but instead adapt and go along with it.
And...
Within that flow, she would focus solely on sucking up every last drop of sweetness she could get.
That was the philosophy of life held by the elf named Amelda,
and the rules embedded in her heart had always guided her toward one single path whenever she faced a major decision.
The path called compromise and submission.
When she first received the divine calling and became a paladin.
When she joined the hero’s party amid everyone’s high expectations.
When she was swept away by the waves of worldly pleasure that Torare had shown her.
And even... when her comrades suggested abandoning the hero.
She had always gone along with the will of those around her while quietly securing her own small gains.
However.
At this very moment.
The woman who had lived her entire life adapting to the flow and choosing only compromise...
The woman who had pursued nothing but her own safety within the currents of the times...
had struck an unexpected reef and was now tumbling straight down into the abyss.
The path of endless compromise has led you to the bottom of hell.
All that remains is agony, regret, and the bitter taste of your own choices.
-Sizzle!!!!
“Aaaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”
The searing hot iron pressed against her chest.
Amelda let out a scream of pure torment, experiencing the worst pain she had ever felt in her entire life.
The horrific sound of burning flesh. The nauseating stench. And the indescribable agony that was the source of it all.
Watching her writhe in suffering, the man she knew well—Achilles, the imperial general—spoke in a cold voice.
“There is no need for mercy. This bitch is the servant of that wicked pope who deceived and exploited countless people with her false doctrines. Make sure she pays the full price for every sin she has committed.”
“Yes, General!”
At his command, the soldiers began heating the branding iron once more.
Seeing this, Amelda trembled in terror and slowly shook her head.
“N-no… stop… please… please, no more— Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!”
Before she could even finish, the burning iron fell onto her chest again.
Her precious breasts, made of soft fat, were being tormented in the most brutal way imaginable.
Another scream of agony tore from Amelda’s throat.
Yet none of the people present showed even the slightest hint of mercy.
They were not torturing her to extract a confession.
They were not trying to force her to do anything.
The only reason they were torturing Amelda was to make her suffer.
To vent their hatred and hostility toward the elves, who had now become their enemies.
The torture continued without any sign of stopping or weakening.
All Amelda could do was scream in pain and shed endless tears.
And...
Engage in meaningless regret over a past that had already slipped away.
*
“Haaah… haaah… haaaaaah…”
The brutal torture had gone on for so long that she couldn’t even tell how much time had passed.
In reality, it had lasted nearly four days. When it finally paused, Amelda was thrown alone into an isolation cell, still bound in shackles.
A narrow, gloomy space lit only by faint light.
There, Amelda panted heavily, her face completely blank, still trapped in unrelenting pain.
However.
The greatest pain tormenting her at this moment was not the physical agony eating away at her body,
nor was it the despair of a future so bleak she couldn’t see even an inch ahead.
What tormented her heart the most was this:
The fate she had arrived at after following her chosen path through life.
The utterly miserable reality she now found herself in,
and the past that had created it.
‘Where… where did it all go wrong…? Just where…?’
Amelda had always chosen what she believed was best for herself.
Yet the worst possible ending she now faced—
this abyss with not a single ray of light—
made her feel as if her entire life had been completely invalidated.
No, it was telling her, without any filter, that her life had indeed been entirely wrong.
‘I always chose what I thought was the best path… the safest path… the one that never went against the flow… So why… why did it end up like this…?’
It was like studying with everything she had, only to receive a zero and be held back a year.
As she agonized over that fact, a certain man’s words suddenly rose in her mind.
“Aren’t you a paladin? Try to take more initiative.”
They were the words of the man who had always given her advice mixed with dissatisfaction.
The strongest human she had ever seen.
The man who always spoke directly to others and insisted on walking only the straight and disciplined path.
The words of the hero, who was now dead.
When she had first heard them, Amelda had not shown it outwardly, but inside she had felt only irritation, rebellion, and contempt.
At the time, she had still believed her way of life was not wrong.
The sweet fruits of pleasure Torare offered and a life faithful to desire had made the hero’s words seem like nothing more than useless nagging that only strengthened her dislike for him.
In her mind, the hero’s power would end the war anyway.
All she had to do was placate him just enough to enjoy the fruits that fell her way.
Yet despite her thoughts, the hero’s reprimands continued, further lowering her already low opinion of him.
Because of those feelings, Amelda had readily agreed when her comrades suggested purging the hero.
Planning a sweet future with Torare had been an added bonus.
However.
As a result of that series of choices, Amelda had fallen into this abyss with no dreams or hope.
And now, in her mind, the hero’s unfiltered advice began to echo automatically.
It was similar to how people on the brink of death suddenly remember their parents’ scoldings.
The thought that if she had walked the righteous path amid such deep despair, things might have turned out differently.
It naturally stirred deep regret within Amelda’s heart.
‘If only… I had listened to you… If I had walked my own path straight like you said, without being swayed by those around me… then maybe I wouldn’t have ended up like this…’
No one could know for certain how things would have turned out if she had truly changed her choices.
But for someone who had hit rock bottom, it was perfectly natural to cling to even the smallest possibilities of the past.
On top of that, the mental exhaustion from excessive torture, the despair of a future with no hope, and the guilt over sins she had tried to ignore—all of it combined—
began to warp her thoughts into exaggeration and delusion rather than rational thinking.
And as a result.
Amelda’s mind automatically began to construct countless twisted “what if” scenarios about her final decision with the Demon King—scenarios far removed from the reality that had actually occurred.
‘If only I had rejected Torare’s hand back then and stayed by the hero’s side. If I had truly decided to help him with sincerity instead of empty flattery… maybe I wouldn’t have met this kind of ending.’
In truth, the strategic goal they had set during the final battle had been extremely simplistic and selfish for what was supposed to be the climax of a long journey.
The plan was to pit the hero and the Demon King against each other, drain the hero’s strength as much as possible, and then finish him off together once he was weakened.
But...
If instead of planning to discard the hero like a used tool, they had created a plan focused purely on victory—
If they had been more cautious, defeating the Demon King’s subordinates one by one before uniting to slay the Demon King together...
Then perhaps Amelda would not be a wretched criminal suffering merciless torture, but a celebrated hero who had ended the war.
Her beloved homeland, the Elf Theocracy, might not have fallen into such dire crisis either.
‘That’s right. Maybe the hero’s stubborn attitude and blunt warnings were meant to prevent exactly this kind of situation…’
Looking back, when the hero had walked alone toward the Demon King in those final moments, he had seemed to carry an air of resignation.
She hadn’t seen it clearly from behind, but there had been a faint smile on his lips.
At the time, with her sharp elven eyesight, Amelda had thought that mysterious smile was simply confidence in victory.
But now, it felt like something else entirely.
Perhaps the hero’s smile had come from glimpsing the coming failure of the Demon King subjugation...
and the miserable fate that would befall her.
That thought quickly solidified into conviction within Amelda’s unstable mind.
As a result, words of remorse and apology began to spill from her lips on their own.
“I’m… sorry, Hero… I… I should have listened to you… I should have come to my senses just like you warned me… Because of my foolishness… because I was lost in pleasure, panting like a bitch in heat without understanding anything…”
From the very beginning, Amelda had carried guilt over how the hero—who had fought and died for them until the very end—had had his honor tarnished.
Though she had buried that guilt for Torare’s sake, it now crawled out of its grave once more and began mercilessly tearing at her heart.
Along with it came an excessive, distorted overvaluation of the hero born from her broken mind.
“I was wrong… I was wrong, Hero…”
Falcon Empire: Mostly plains.
Magic Kingdom: Mostly cold regions except the south.
Elf Theocracy: Half plains, half forest.
Beastman Nation: Mostly tropical wetlands, with desert in the south.
Demon Kingdom: A rather large island nation. Contains plenty of plains but also suitable mountainous terrain ideal for defense.
Her voice, filled with regret, echoed hollowly inside the dark prison cell.
