Slowly, the Inquisitor kneeled.  0

—I'm sorry. I was wrong.0

The Shellmounts observed him from a distance, gasping in surprise. Finding out the truth didn’t erase the fact that they had been worshiping the Inquisitor—a transcendent entity who had cared for them since the dawn of time and a father who had granted them both victories and failures—for a very long time. The same god now kneeled before them.0

—I’m very well aware that I am far from normal. Well, I see myself as normal, but everyone else disagrees, especially the Death King. So… perhaps I’m not. But being a psycho could describe pretty well, just like you mentioned earlier!0

Saimeslam asked a question on the behalf of all the Shellmounts.0

—How? How did you become a psycho?0

—There is nothing unique about my story. The mafia kidnapped me when I was about three years old. I don't know if they took me away because my parents couldn't pay off their debts or if they picked a useful child from the orphanage. I've already killed all the people who could answer these questions. I was taught how to kill people, how to keep them alive, and how to charm them. I would sometimes dismantle a man of steel into hundreds of scrap iron so I could make him my subordinate. I learned this by watching organizations collapse from the inside after they were destroyed by external forces. This is all I know. It was inevitable for me to turn out this way.1

The Inquisitor sighed. His expression brightened when...0