Tome of All-Memory: Dangerous Injection

Caerula Recorder: Tome of All-Memory
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Transcripts of the Dangerous Injection Memory Mapping's Memory Selections.

Memory #1 Unlocked at the start

“ "Whether or not you fear it, it will come for you." ” Within minutes of the coastline's collapse, silence floods the ears, the ocean's rumbling and the land's clamor all disappearing, as if the brain actively refuses to process the vibrations entering the auricle. In this moment, the terrible calamity leaves behind only a pure, white void. The ground beneath one's feet may be crushed, sunken, or consumed by the spreading nethersea brand at any time. Even the high ground upon which Thorns is perched offers no guarantee of safety. The Ægir who refused to evacuate watches as the ocean, for a brief moment, returns to serenity. He does not know if it was from the shockwave or some other reason, but a strange heterogeneous fluid begins to flow from his ears, moistening his gloves and scrambling to be first to overflow from the gaps between his fingers. It is blood. Thorns does not mind bleeding. Nothing else matters in comparison to the scene unfolding before his eyes. He had to admit, he'd never found Iberia pleasant. He'd spent much more time around the coast than in the inland cities. He once left both Iberia and Ægir behind, and even now, does not consider either place his homeland. But afterward, he still returned to this place, to the scarred land of Iberia. He once thought he might have the opportunity to rebuild the Golden Age sung about in the stories, a desire he'd held onto. Until today. The blood flowing from his ear trickles down to his neck, causing an indescribable itching. He cannot help but to perceive his own blood as some kind of foreign substance, and this act of bleeding as a process to purge it from his body. The foreign substance drawn out by the sea keeps Thorns rooted in place. What exactly is it that exerts its influence on him from the depths of the ocean? This strange magnetism had grown more and more apparent with each passing day, and it became increasingly difficult to convince himself to ignore it. A singer once said to him: "Whether or not you fear it, it will come for you." But whatever it is that the singer said would come for him – was it his so-called homeland, or the sea creatures before him? He must find out. Until this question has been answered, he cannot escape from this place.

Memory #2 Unlocked after entering the 3rd floor

“ The priest from the Deep stands upon the broken shore, bringing with it more peace than terror. ” The Ægir never thought of himself as someone who could hallucinate. But as soon as the pure white silence ends, a sharp pain begins to scream out, the shadows of lifeforms about to teem forth emerge from the distant ocean, and at the far end of his fragmented vision– He sees a figure that should not be there. Though its body has transformed into that of a pure Seaborn, an uncanny intuition helps Thorns recognize that he is looking at his former mentor. Not so much by its physical form, but rather by a flash of enlightenment across the membrane of cognition the moment his eyes make contact with the monster. In that instant, what once seemed like layers upon layers of contradictions in the past all unravel, answered. The Iberian priest who had imparted him invaluable knowledge had, since the very beginning, been part of the Deep. The priest from the Deep stands upon the broken shore, bringing with it not terror, but rather peace. The Sea Terrors circle it, emitting soft whispers of joy; the Seaborn shake their slender wrist-appendages, swaying in the tide. Pure and clean are they among we many, swaying gently in the tide. The evening sun sets behind the priest's back, its grey shadow gently reflected by the ocean's surface in scattered polka-dots. The priest stands there, looking at him. "What a joyous reunion, my child." From within the ubiquitous whispers comes an emotion. One that we many should not possess, one that belonged to an individual. "You yearn for the ocean you have never met, yet also worry about your ancestral lands." "Is that the reason you remain here, unwilling to retreat?" "Within your blood still flows the gift I left for you. It should not have meant anything, but you've already spent too long with we many..." "You seem to still be hesitating, wandering, searching for something?" "Did you find what you were looking for here?" "The will of we many will subsume that of the individual, though there will always be exceptions." "It may not be the most optimal of paths, but my extensive thoughts have brought me here." "As for you, do you have your answer?" The priest holds out his hand. The brood begins to blossom, the offspring of the sea extending their tendrils towards him. "You must think for yourself, and make your own decision." "You must make a choice." "How I wish you could embark upon the path most suited for you, my child." The Seaborn's voice brushes across the surface of the sea like ripples stirred by the wind, diffusing outward layer by layer. Thorns can understand this voice. All this time, the person he is facing has always taught him to maintain his independent thought. If all previous approaches to verification have failed, and new hypotheses are established, then... Will the option in front of him help him find the answer he seeks? At the terminus of his life, will this option in front of him be the answer he sought? The sun sets within Thorns's eyes. We Many do not immediately march upon the land, but instead gradually retreat. The sacred mural is scattered and broken. Silver and gold pour onto the ocean's surface. The Ægir raises his sword and points its tip at the priest.

Memory #3 Unlocked after entering the 5th floor

“ Who can say for sure what the color of the sea is? Thorns cannot, but he knows one thing well – he will come to embrace it. ” For how long has this city held? A few days? A week? Or a month? Desperation continues to grow, but the people continue to dwindle. The team that went out for reconnaissance was unable to return. The communication equipment they used was brought back by a dying inquisitor, their last report stored within the broken-down machine. At the end of the recording is a brief and peaceful farewell. His companions had drawn their last breath fighting against the Seaborn. The soldiers fell into a swarm of Sea Terrors. The medic exhausted the last bit of his energy staining a tool for healing with the blood of his enemies. The guards responsible for holding the line boldly erected barriers so the people could retreat, barely holding back the Sea Terrors and Seaborn until the town could stand no longer, their still-running equipment buzzing defiantly until it too finally ceased. But Thorns still remains here, striding forward as everything else recedes, cutting through the lines of people evacuating inland like a countercurrent rushing out to sea. The Ægir stands alone on the coast, a fluorescent reagent resting in his hand. When he made this potion, he knew he would have to use it one day. As for where its raw ingredients came from and how they were processed, only Thorns, who had cut through the overgrown body of his transfigured mentor, knows. Is it green? Or is it blue? Who can say for sure what the color of the sea is? Thorns cannot, but he knows one thing well – he will come to embrace it. He is the sole human here. Countless progeny of the sea surround him, but do not attack. They considerately allow him a moment to himself. No matter if right and wrong have been turned inside-out, no matter how the truth is interpreted, Thorns has made up his mind. He must come to understand what has always been calling out to him. He needs to know that which can no longer be hidden. He needs to know: when he becomes one with them, will he still be able to wound the sea itself? This is a quandary that has never ceased to plague his thoughts. Every day in which he still does not understand is a day he will spend continuing his search. Thorns has always been searching for this answer. He is confident in himself, and believes that even if his consciousness is washed away, he will still remain clear-minded. He has also considered the possibility that even if he loses this gamble... the Doctor knows exactly what his weaknesses are. As long as the Doctor exists, everything can still be resolved. There is nothing holding him back anymore. At this moment, all he needs to do is follow through on his own thoughts and decisions. The self-aware Ægir presses down on the far end of the potion. And slowly pushes his homeland into his body.