resists fire torture

With that cold comment, Stiyl Magnus shoved his lit cigarette into the paper doll’s right
leg.
“Welcome, Kamijou Touma, to London, the city of fog, magic, and torture.”
It immediately came off.
The boy’s right leg burned and carbonized until the bone was visible and it fell off at the
knee.
“Ah, bah!?”
He was reminded of the delicious part of fried chicken.
The end of the chicken leg bone. This was like a much larger version of that round bit of
bone covered in cartilage that quivered like thick, translucent gelatin.
“Owwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!???”
“Oh, you can actually scream? I thought for sure your eyes would roll back in your head
and you would pass out with the very first move, but you must have a fair amount of
experience with this sort of thing. Well, that will only make this all the more hellish for
you.”
Kamijou screamed and struggled, but Stiyl only observed him with the look of a child
tearing the legs off of a bug. Then he pressed the cigarette against the paper doll’s lower
stomach.
It was like watching plastic melt. With a strange odor, the skin blistered and burst, the
muscles snapped, and an internal pressure caused more and more of a thick substance to
spill out. His vision flashed in and out and his view of the room grew blurry for a reason
other than tears.
The only thing he could hear anymore was the mechanically emotionless voice repeating
itself.
“Why did you set foot in this country? Whose idea was it? How much does it have to do
with Lola Stuart’s sudden disappearance and the Crowley’s Hazards?”
But at this point, Kamijou finally realized something.
One of his legs had fallen off, but he could not escape the chair’s belts no matter how much
he struggled. That meant the restraints on all his limbs were still in place. Even though
one of those limbs should not have been there anymore.
“Ah, ahh…?”
“Yes?”
“You aren’t actually…burning me with fire. You’re using that doll…yes, using it to send
just the sensation to me.”
“Knowing that does not allow you to escape the pain and suffering,” explained Stiyl while
holding the end of the cigarette right in front of the paper doll’s face.
***
Kamijou Touma’s eyes would not focus properly.
A rusty flavor filled his mouth. His mouth was all sticky after his back teeth bit through
his own flesh. He did not think it was his tongue. It was probably the flesh of his cheek.
He wanted to rinse out his mouth, but he was not given that kind of freedom.
“Why did you set foot in this country? Whose idea was it? How much does it have to do
with Lola Stuart’s sudden disappearance and the Crowley’s Hazards?”
“Why did you set foot in this country? Whose idea was it? How much does it have to do
with Lola Stuart’s sudden disappearance and the Crowley’s Hazards?”
“Why did you set foot in this country? Whose idea was it? How much does it have to do
with Lola Stuart’s sudden disappearance and the Crowley’s Hazards?”
Stiyl was no longer here, but the questions continued ringing in his eardrums.
He forcibly peeled apart his stuck-together lips and spoke while his eyes refused to focus
and his body sat limply in the chair he was strapped to.
“…Aleister. I really am going to kill that bastard…”
Stiyl Magnus was not here.
Had he gone to get an even nastier tool, or was he getting a first-aid kit to treat Kamijou’s
mouth and extend his suffering? Was there any chance at all of a clueless Orsola miracle?
At any rate.
“Oh, you’re tougher than I thought. I expected to find you had at least pissed yourself. You
must have built up some resistance from confronting this god of war for such a
depressingly long time.”

- New Testament Volume 20 Chapter 2 Part 4, 6