Operation story: ZT-10

Operation

Story

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Characters
Viviana Federico Arturia Ebenholz Michael Lessing Vivian Cora Yulia Witch King Witch King Bishop Stefano Clément Loris Gesatzswächter Grimmacht Ewigegnade Fremont Ermengarde "Witch King's Echo" "Witch King's Echo"? Young Noble
Backgrounds
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Before operation

“

Kargereich is on the verge of collapse, and the Twin Empresses force into the Witch King's Spire to save Zwillingstürme. They must defeat him once again.

”

<Background 1>
[A door opens.]
Vivian	Phew—! You scared me...
[Viviana walks into the room.]
Viviana	Vivian, what are you hiding under the covers for... are you writing a letter?
Vivian	Shh—Tante Cora's about to come. She'll be angry if she sees me awake this late.
Viviana	Who are you writing to?
Vivian	Vati. I pestered Tante Cora for two weeks before she finally agreed to sneak me out to a poetry recital at Ludwigs-Universität, and I want to tell Vati all about it. I was going write it tomorrow, but I'm afraid it'll be too late by the time we get back... Not that I have any way to send them. I'll just store them somewhere safe, along with all my knight novels.
Viviana	But why?
Vivian	Since I decided not to eat candy anymore, I have to put away those childish fantasies too.
Viviana	But didn't you always want to be like those knights? With their shining swordspears sparkling like the sun? Didn't you want to visit that radiant, glowing country?
Vivian	They're too far. It's all just too far away. Mutti's not here anymore, and Vati, he's by himself. I'm... on my own too. I don't want to be too far from him. I asked Tante Cora how long it'd take for us to get back to Sturmland from Zwillingstürme. The fastest route would be only two days, so if Vati needs me, I can always—
Viviana	But your Vati doesn't even know you stayed behind.
Vivian	He'd definitely be mad if he did. But I don't regret my choice. I begged Tante Cora to help me stay here in Leithanien, instead of following her to the Grand Knight Territory like he told me to. Even if I have to hide. Even if he can never know. Tante's helped us so much. My Mutti said she's super strong, super brave, and super gentle... But even so, I'm sure she needs people by her side too. She's always been by herself. I can't do much, but I can at least hold her hand.
Viviana	Mhm. I know exactly what you mean.
Viviana. I can't say you've made a bad choice. You're giving up on more things, but at the very least you'll have fewer regrets.
[Someone can be heard from outside the room.]
Vivian	It's Tante Cora... I think someone's stopped her to talk.
Viviana	I'll go take a look. You should go to bed.
<Background 2>
"Witch King's Echo"	A rare event. Has the Twin Empresses' favorite actually come here of her own accord, to meet with us 'dregs'? Finally made up your mind? All because of the Hochberg girl?
Cora	Viviana is too sensible for her own good. She takes after both Lucinda and Werner. If I had a daughter myself, I can only hope she'd be as tough and kindhearted as her. That day in the car, she suddenly begged me to let her stay. And I thought, maybe things would work out better this way. Better for Werner, and... better for me.
[Cora pauses for a moment.]
Cora	With her around, I can feel myself gradually calming down this time. When I pass by Karl Schmidt Street, sometimes I feel like I can see the marigolds again, blooming all over the street. As if the flowering season will never end.
"Witch King's Echo"	But her current situation says it all. As grand a Kurfürst as he may have been, he was incapable of saving his own beloved daughter.
Cora	Leithanian's illness still constrains all those who have sacrificed everything for the country's so-called rebirth. Its terminal rot has lived and strived, barring the citizens from their freedom.
"Witch King's Echo"	Still, I'm elated to hear that her presence here has helped you come to a decision, Concertmaster.
[Viviana runs towards Cora.]
Viviana	No! Cora, I didn't come here to— This shouldn't be happening!
Cora	...
"Witch King's Echo"	...
[The two figures disolves into dust.]
<Background 3>
Everything before her eyes dissipates. Once again, Viviana finds herself on the spiral staircase. She had thought that an earlier solace would prevent the inevitable, so that tragedies wouldn't have to fall upon the lamentable woman behind the door. Or, at the very least, that she could say her goodbyes before it was too late.
Viviana	...
Countless doors simultaneously open up before her. They line up in succession, meandering towards an unclear horizon. She recalls every Viviana who was behind each of the doors. She sees every candle and its firelight through each of the frames. Her parents—or perhaps she herself—make a different choice each time. Life after life, possibility after possibility.
<Background black>
Vivian?	If Mutti and Vati didn't have to hide their love for each other... If everyone had accepted us, then maybe they'd all have blessed my birth instead. Could we have been happy forever? If Vati could manage to rid himself of all his identities and duties, and live a simple, ordinary life with Mutti... Could we have gotten a much better ending?
Viviana?	If you'd contacted McKee sooner, and used the K.G.C.C.'s resources to return to Sturmland even just a day earlier... Could you have at least seen him one last time? If people could see you as someone ordinary, looked at you without scrutiny, mockery, or pity... If you'd found a more perfect image, or just the right words... If you'd written of the brilliant marigolds and gentle silhouettes before you... If you could just... be accompanied by books in peace... Would it have been less painful?
Cora?	You deserve a better life than this, Viviana. If there really is one.
<Background 3>
Viviana	But why? Why does every last one... ...leave me so disappointed?
Viviana hears the sound of something moving. Doors collapse, distant but clear, like snow losing its grip on a mountain top. The beginning of an avalanche.
Viviana	...! Is there such a thing as a second chance?
She walks towards the nearest door. A new one, just like every other she has walked into.
Viviana	Will there be a better choice behind this door? A more satisfying resolution? Fewer regrets?
Viviana
[Viviana steps inside.]
<Background 4>
Federico	The Genesis... This 'Zwillingstürme' space is extremely unstable, Yulia Schüler. Your premonition was correct. I understand that you won't leave... So please stick to the resonance pipes as much as possible to keep yourself safe.
Yulia	What about you, Herr Executor?
Federico	I must find Arturia. The sooner, the better.
Yulia	Frau Giallo should have already met the person she wanted to.
Federico	She is a dangerous individual, and should come back with me to Laterano. But if she truly seeks the Witch King, then she could be in danger right now.
Federico turns around and looks into the distance. Ever since Yulia activated the retrofitted resonance pipes, the scenery around them has gradually cleared up, both near and far. And with that, Arturia's destination is no longer in question. At the far edge of his sight stands a gigantic black tower, interwoven with scarlet and surrounded by a cluster of spires he's never seen before.
Yulia	Herr Executor, before we go our separate ways, can you tell me how Jan is doing these days?
Federico	He has encountered some common growing pains. Loris Bordin left him a sum of money, but judging by his own wishes, he may very well leave Leithanien and make a living in another country.
Yulia	That's fine too. That boy's head has always been swimming with ideas.
[Yulia frowns.]
Yulia	...
Federico	Seniora Schüler, you appear to have more questions for me.
The Caprinae woman quickens her footsteps just slightly as Federico continues at his usual pace, giving her a slight lead.
Yulia	Loris, is he... ...already dead?
Federico	I never said—
Yulia	Herr Executor, you're clearly the type to dive headfirst into your work without a second thought. But you seem particularly concerned with my affairs. You wouldn't willingly put your mission on hold like this for no reason. I've heard from Loris how Laterano's Notarial Hall works, and—
Federico	His will. Prior to Das Kaiserinnensfest, Loris Bordin died in the sewers near Bodenshof's Forest Park, while trying to prevent the Witch King's remains from inciting a revolt. His final message before death was a phone call in which he expressed his hope that someone else would take over the Yulia Schüler case. For fifteen years, he resented the city of Zwillingstürme, loathed his work at the Gendarmerie, and treated everything apart from his final battle with indifference. His sole preoccupation was your case. And as a former citizen of Laterano, his final request can be considered his last will and testament. That said, the case has now been solved, and it is no longer possible to investigate any further... But I did find a letter addressed to you in his residence.
Yulia	...
Federico	I read it only once, but I have it memorized. I can recite it to you if necessary. However, the contents are full of rather emotional expressions. Such as: 'When I decided to get to the bottom of your case, that gross monster summoned me to his office. 'He slapped me in the face and said', Leithanian expletive omitted, 'Don't you dare think your military success gives you the right to pick fights with everyone.' 'Yulia, I hate Zwillingstürme. I hate that I'm unable to—'
Yulia	Herr Executor, Loris wasn't that sort of man.
Yulia interrupts Federico's recital.
Yulia	The Loris I know was never the type to call himself a 'hero' or anything like that. But he was the first soldier to set foot in the Witch King's Spire. He was the only fool to join the Gendarmerie and silently protect the city, despite owning a title. The only officer willing to defy the nobles to protect civilians. He knew things weren't perfect in either Laterano or Leithanien, and that many things needed changing. But someone harboring hope in their heart will never give in to despair. ...Never.
Yulia stops in her tracks and begins mumbling to herself. Federico follows suit and looks at her quivering shoulders from behind. He does not move. The young executor listens in silence, attempting to analyze the emotions in her words.
Federico	Seniora Schüler, are you... disappointed with Loris Bordin? In truth, he was only—
Yulia	I'm not. I'm not, Herr Executor. I just... feel sorry for him. I'm the reason he became like that, right? But I was actually—
A pipe organ suddenly sounds from the distance, followed by a huge energy pulse. Federico subconsciously pulls out his gun.
Yulia	...going to accept his proposal.
[Yulia's soul finally vanishes.]
Federico turns back to Yulia. An insipid mist flits through his hands, and the Caprinae woman before his eyes no longer exists. Only nothingness remains, as it always has been.
Federico	—!
He suddenly recalls the flower from the Sanctilaminium Ambrosii. Back then, he felt that that flower could be the answer to his confusion. Now, he finds himself in a similar situation, with no one in front of him. The primary difference is that he is still unable to comprehend the truth of the situation and place he is in—a place devoid of laws or solid footing, only endless dangers and unknowns.
Federico	This was Yulia Schüler's second 'death.' My preliminary deduction is that she was caught in a wave of abnormal energy caused by a violent impact to the Genesis Horn. I will move to verify the precise cause immediately. In short, this too was an accident. An accident that has once again destroyed her life, and once again she was unable to react in time. ...
Federico is an outstanding executor. He has been with the Notarial Hall for seven years, and carried the title of Saint for two. He calls himself an executioner and executor, and has witnessed countless deaths, but this is the first time that he's truly sensed someone's emotions in their final moments.
She lived in her own 'Zwillingstürme' for an eternity, as she loved and regretted. Even death was unable to shake her belief in life. Simple. But intense.
<Background 5>
Arturia	...
Witch King	Your silence ails me, Sankta.
Arturia	Yulia, she...
Witch King	The twins created by Leopold and Fremont are currently attempting to brute force their way into my Pavillon. Frail consciousnesses cannot withstand the resulting energy waves.
Arturia	No, it's not just her...?
Arturia turns around, even though there is nothing else to see. Suddenly, the energy blows away a layer of mist like a breeze, revealing the breathing, footsteps, joy, and grief hidden beneath. These emotions are now—no, they've always been here, all over the Pavillon. If a soul is like an instrument, then at this very moment she feels the vibration of countless strings, a chorus.
Arturia	I could only see Yulia because of my acquaintance with Loris, and I had only brief contact with her. But there are so many ordinary souls 'living' inside your palace.
Witch King	They exist as information, and walk as Leithanians. Form and identity. Nothing more. But reminiscing is a luxury I do not allow in my Pavilion, Sankta. I believe you came to verify a future?
Arturia	I think... I've already gotten my confirmation, in a way. Why, exactly, do people develop a 'self'? And how does one become strong enough to go up against an approaching crisis, or a predestined doom? We all exist within 'order.' Rules and commandments serve as Laterano's anchors and cables, enabling faith to traverse the entire lands and providing a target for the prayers of believers. The law is our piety. 'Leithanien,' However, is the result of Güldenesgesatz. Through its systems, aesthetics, models, and morals, ten different regions with no common cultural identity joined together as a unity that has lasted a thousand years. Experience inherited through generations, laws forged in writing, concepts established by convention... These exist a priori, and from it, an 'order' is formed. They guide how we should think, speak, and deal with ourselves as well as others. ...And so it becomes our instinct, engraved into our very flesh and blood. But the order has its imperfections. It is rigid, unequal, and indifferent. It separates us. Laterano's order offers redemption to its believers, but the gates of Paradise do not open for the Sarkaz. It refuses to provide bread for their empty stomachs or roofs to shelter them from the rain. Ægir and Iberia face the same dangerous ocean, but their respective orders forbid them to keep watch at the same lighthouse. Our order rebels against us, and we yearn for it still, calling for its perfection.
Witch King	...Only 'order' is desired. Laterano's laws hover barely above a hundred words, and Leithanien's theme has long been concise. Their minds shallow. Their pride false. Their senses dull. They regard only the dead as eternal. By this they are timid, yet also fearless. What is your answer then, Sankta? What do you desire?
Arturia	...'Emotion.' We exist in the 'present,' a river whose running flow is our feelings, our discordant and capricious reflections of the moment we are living in. Feelings build into emotion, and emotions shape our souls. Our emotions are varied and profound. We are the love, the hatred, the appreciation, and the lament we harbor when these emotions call upon our reflection, and through these encounters we come to understand life itself. They were the torch we wielded to repel the shadow of death long before the birth of laws, religion, politics, or science. We were born as prodigies in utilizing our emotions. And thus, we are connected.
Witch King	Are you referring to the empathy between the Sankta?
Arturia	Indeed. Language is not without its limit, and what it finds an impossible chasm to leap over, empathy arches across in an emotion's quiver. It's a precious gift to my kin, through which we can read each other's feelings. But it is also utterly unfair. Its creeds are too vague, and its benediction too narrow, like a rule written only to serve Laterano's order.
Witch King	So you crave a 'true empathy?' You seek an empathy from within, with a wider yet deeper range than what you call 'emotion,' that connects everyone on all lands as one? An interesting delusion, Sankta.
Arturia	I've searched, I've tried... and failed. Would you imagine it? In a dilapidated monastery, Sankta and Sarkaz had been fighting side-by-side against life's miseries and their own wavering faith, all to protect a hard-earned garden? But when true disaster came knocking at our doors, we found that our 'kin,' who had understood and accepted us for six decades, still harbored doubts in their hearts, fissures in their faiths. We were always strangers, nothing more. Emotions are as real as the fragility of our minds. We are good at avoiding pain, experts, even, at muting ourselves on it. Conversely, this helps mask our own feebleness. As a result, people cannot feel what others feel. Tragedies will always transpire as long as this barrier remains.
Witch King	And you and your music endeavor to unshackle people by confronting them with their true hearts, just as one would polish an instrument on sandpaper. You attempt to strengthen their souls by guiding them through their regrets. Is this the duty you have long since imposed upon yourself to perform?
Arturia	Yes, Your Majesty. Because to this day, I have been seeking confirmation. I have a future in mind.
Witch King	Continue.
Arturia	In that future, everyone possesses a most powerful soul. Our strengths are unequal, unlike yours, where a tenacious soul can't be shaken by anything in this mortal realm, and even death is powerless to wipe away your struggles, pursuits, and conquests. Others are like those Cora, Yulia, or the souls in the palace. They are unconcerned with greater undertakings, and simply love the lives they live—but still they dare to fight against the turbulent waves that are engulfing them. Of course, we will persist in our pursuit of happiness, but more importantly, we will no longer avoid pain, or be ashamed of it. We, as people, should suffer, and we will suffer. Our apathy, doubt, confusion, remorse, shame, grief... These complex emotions will no longer leave scars deep in our hearts, nor will they remain untouchable beyond the realm of words. We will no longer shy away from self-expression, nor will we struggle to find ways to do so. We will understand how to live with ourselves, and live strong we will.
Witch King	... Sankta, the results of your performances are often unsatisfactory. You should know that for most, emotions are inadequate guidelines, and wholly following one's heart will only lead to dire consequences. Crafty is the Creator, who, for each house built, has orchestrated a blizzard that brings its ruination. Yet you hope for your future to include... everyone? An amusing delusion.
Arturia	No, Your Majesty—it must include everyone. Indeed, your existence is an exception to the laws and reasons that govern these great lands. Born from order, yet ruling over it, your incredible personality, formidable strength, boundless knowledge, adventurous spirit, and subversive insight... all condensed into an essence of one. You have glimpsed beyond the horizon of perception into the black woods of mystery, and even wield the power to traverse the unknown in your hand. But they are also the root of your madness, your downfall... These extraordinary qualities, and the nigh unattainable achievements built upon them; they cease to exist with your demise.
Witch King	...
Arturia	It's a cage trapping us all, and we should not expect any individual to break it open, however powerful its soul is. Therefore, everyone needs a strong soul, they need the power to 'empathize.' We will be able to share our knowledge, our experiences, our abilities and insights, all via our emotional bonds. Then, there would be no crisis able to undo our ties, no defeat able to wear down our rapport. There will be no truths unrevealable, no pain incomprehensible, no obstruction unsurpassable. Our power comes from our individual strengths. We would be distinctly ourselves, yet as one. And when adversity and the unknown are at the gate, they would find our sanctuary unbreakable, as our collective emontions have formed a wall of steel.
[Arturia takes a dramatic pause.]
Arturia	ThusI am here. If a 'strong soul' can truly exist, strong enough to resist a predestined doom, then by no means should I ignore it—the future.
Witch King	... Much have you witnessed and experienced, and devoted you are to the power of emotions. Why, then, did you not seek it from yourself, Sankta?
[Arturia feels her heartbeat quicken.]
Arturia	...
<Background black>
Arturia	Are you... reading my mind? You've been doing this from the moment I arrived at your throne... Is this your 'performance'?
Witch King	A performance that befits a performer like you, pilgrim. Everything in my Pavillon, I command at will. They are mine.
<Background 6>
Witch King	Accumulated guilt?
Bishop Stefano	...
<Background 7>
Witch King	Unreconciliable sorrow?
Clément	...
<Background 8>
Witch King	Hopeless disappointment? Powerful courage?
Loris	...
<Background 9>
Witch King	Endless regret?
Gesatzswächter	...
<Background 10>
Witch King	Unwavering affection?
Cora	...
<Background black>
There is no 'performance.' No performance will allow such cruelty and arbitrary. You do not come to a common understanding, nor are his joy and sorrow yours. You have thrown open the gate to your mind, and he is the guest and the host. Leithanian history has recorded how the Witch King reformed and rearranged his people, his orchestra and army. Disobedience is not tolerated nor possible.
Witch King	Sankta. If emotions had forms, by all rights you should be the fullest individual I have ever met. But I sense in you nothing. Why? Because you use yourself as a mirror, reflecting the emotions of others. Nein, you do not see and tell. You receive. You are a receptacle whose content is overflowing with the emotions of others, with no room for your own. You feel what they feel, but at the same time feel nothing. You undo the knots of others while further tightening yours, a state that resembles only chaos. ...
[Sound of water splashing]
Arturia feels a pair of hands on her. They stretch into the lakebed of her consciousness, and do not stop there, but stir up the mud at the bottom, arriving at the void in the very depths. Suffocation resembles a rushing river, scrubbing every nook and cranny of her consciousness as it thoroughly engulfs her within.
Witch King	Hm?
Arturia?	...
Witch King	I see. I saw your only truth.
<Background 5>
Witch King	...
The Witch King remains silent for a long time as he stares at the person before his throne. Arturia has never felt her heart beat as fast as it is now.
Witch King	Sankta, the future you describe does have its value. Perhaps it will find its place in the river of time.
Arturia	...
Witch King	However, you are the one person furthest from your utopia. If you are just a receptacle, just a mirror, if you cannot even see the reality you have neglected... Then you have reached your end, before your path has yet to reach its.
Arturia	Your Majesty...
[Arts suddenly pierce through the space, causing parts of the throne room to crumble.]
Witch King	Your audience is over, Sankta. Your request I will not answer.
[The Witch King's eyes glow red.]
Witch King	Now, bear witness to my end.
[Black flames spew forth as the Witch King dons his mask.]
<Background is surrounded by black flames>
Witch King	New guests at my Pavillon. Very well. Come forward, twins. I recognize you both.
At first, a pipe organ hums in the distance, its sound reaching the throne loud and clear. A gentle shade of gold follows. Like a splotch of rich ink soaking into view, the color climbs over the palace walls before melting the Pavilion down. Brilliant rays of light dye the clouds aureate, and Zwillingstürme's glowing sunset illuminates the black spire that had long ceased to exist.
Grimmacht	You truly are attached to that throne, Herkunftshorn.
Ewigegnade	Twenty-three years ago, when Hildegard and I made our way here, you were sitting on it just as you are now. Summoned here late at night by a creed, your subjects crawled beneath the steps as your melody shredded their souls away, not daring to make one move. You were disinclined to even take notice of them.
Witch King	Judging by your attire... you have both proclaimed yourselves the Kaiserinnen of Leithanien? The blades painstakingly forged by the nobles are now pointing back at them, freshly resharpened. How amusing.
Grimmacht	... I won't deny you. Lieselotte and I were born from your Arts. Our flesh and blood, as well as our power, were born from the nobles' boring ambitions. Indeed, we are only creations. But precisely because of that, we can be loyal only to Leithanien.
Witch King	Answer, then: how did you serve the Leithanien you are devoted to?
Ewigegnade	Hildegard and I do not judge ourselves by our merits, Herkunftshorn. But at the very least, when the people of Zwillingstürme lift their heads, they should be able to see a brilliant sunset, instead of dark clouds brimming with the metallic tinge of blood. That is our dream, and what we work towards.
Witch King	How naive. Do you wish to continue indulging yourselves in the illusions you weaved, and enshrouding your minds from the truth? Humanity is shackled by repulsive rules. Our legs cannot walk. Our eyes cannot see. And what kind of future can you possibly bestow to Leithanien, given your wayward minds and narrow sights?
Ewigegnade	Is the Witch King, who nearly drove Leithanien to the brink, actually rebuking us for our incompetence in giving her a future?
Grimmacht	... Lieselotte, we don't have much time. We've performed together on every one of the twenty-three celebrations of Leithanien's rebirth, and your skills have never faltered. I hope I can put the same trust in your combat practice.
Ewigegnade	You and Leithanien have my shield, Hildegard.
[Swords clash and thunder booms.]
Grimmacht	I admire your experience, courage, and achievements, Herkunftshorn. You overthrew prejudice and the old order—more firmly entrenched than the Spires are now—and brought opportunity to every Leithanian. You gave the nation unprecedented vitality, and were to be revered as the greatest monarch in its history. But then you pushed the country into war, erected even more terrifying spires, and inflicted suffering a hundred times more painful to the very people you had given hope to. You were ruined by your own desires.
Ewigegnade	Herkunftshorn, our widespread standards, our harmonious melodies, and our arts and morals make Leithanien what she is. But you rocked her foundations, undermined her survival, and made her your own vassal. Your meddling turned the entire country into a resource to be exploited. And it is only righteous that everything you have explored or mastered belongs to Leithanien. So we're here to retrieve it.
Grimmacht	A spire that remains only as a shadow should not exist in the first place. To think it actually lingered over Leithanien these past twenty-three years. What did you call it earlier... your 'Pavillon'? A palace? No matter. Today will be your last, and this place shall serve as your final grave.
Originium clusters surge from thin air, first hitting Grimmacht's blade before fragments splash onto Ewigegnade's shield. Black and red unite into one. A dazzling gold. An intense purple. Their Arts are condensed to their very limits, like unchangeable, primitive blocks of color. They collide, but cannot blend into each other, and only splash before the throne, seizing every inch of space.
An ear-splitting rhythm accompanies the explosion of colors. Their weapons, originally instruments, perform two movements in two completely different styles, at the same time and place. Brass, woodwinds, strings, percussion, keyboards, and even bell trees, as well as death whistles...
The rusty reeds beneath Sargon's golden sands, the flame-wreathed amber under the sludge of the Black Flow, the rootless flowers buried deep in the frostbound soil of Sami, and the boundless chaos itself in this Kargereich... A cosmos coexists with its voice within the Witch King's melody. Notes are woven, conducted, and played by his hand, notes to sing a melody of the 'Witch King,' notes to sing a melody for the 'Witch King.' This mortal realm will never again know a symphony this clamorous, harsh, and illogical, yet also spectacular, majestic, and striking.
Ewigegnade and Grimmacht's duet is so simple in comparison. The notes gently rise and sharply fall, with the dignified and imposing pipe organ resembling a castle encircled by mountains, while the ethereal violin is like a waterfall pouring by the citadel. The sound of water splashing onto rock is still clearly audible in the room furthest from the waterfall, but even in the closest it does not sound so noisy. The two act like one, their movements as harmonious as if they had never split.
The symphonies sing a war song: two generations of Leithanian Kaisers fight before the throne, the entire Pavillon both their sand table and military formation. History bends and rewinds at this moment— Gaul's flagship crosses the river valley under Corsica I's lead, soldiers bumping shoulders as they form a thick cloud and tear apart Sturmland's iron curtain-like defense line. And then, Herkunftshorn's silhouette introduces its reign at the pinnacle. He stands atop the Spire, heaven and earth at his beck and call. The elements, thunderbolts, and sandstorms are all at his disposal— To swallow everything. Under the omnipresent dust clouds of blood, Ewigegnade and Grimmacht's movements are unremarkable. They sneak into Vedunien under the cover of night and with a feint from the Kurfürsten's coalition army, and make a beeline for the Spire. The Spire opens its doors, welcoming its visitors. The unsuspecting spire casters rush into formation, and one by one turn into the red leaves of late autumn.
Shield and sword shatter the Genesis Spire. Just like that night twenty-three years ago.
<Background 5>
<Background is surrounded by black flames>
[The Witch King's Spire begins to crumble.]
Witch King	My Pavillon, and everything in it, are disintegrating, dying. The Pavillon... This imperishable hall is not my creation, nor the work of anyone else. It is the accumulation of mankind's immeasurable sacrifices. Technology, arts, evolutionary experience—every choice, every regret, every affection, and every resentment. Every hope and every despair. Every thought and every prayer, the birth and death of every civilization, everything remembered and everything forgotten. The Pavillon is humanity. The Pavillon is our will.
[The spire shakes more.]
Witch King	Through annihilation the will has taken form, and from chaos the order was given birth. A will true to reveal the origin. A will firm to conquer the source. Originium. The beginning of annihilation and the source of chaos were both mine to wield, and thus I compelled Originium to reveal the nature of its being, to present the fact of its origin. But I became aware that no matter how Originium grows, overwrites, recreates... It speaks the same truth, a truth laid bare right before our eyes all along. It says the creator who was at the source of making was also a creation. It says the dominator reigned long before its domain came to exist. It says hope is lost, and eternity is no more. And what truth did I obtain but heavier chains, and a more ruthless resolve at the origin, the root of all creation? Undeniable as the silence of death. Unextinguishable as the light of stars. Cruel was the maker. Vile was the maker. Sly was the maker. By his hands our determination was shattered, but not annulled; maimed, but not overthrown. It forged our sharpest sword. It built our toughest prison. The truth is laid bare for all to see, but how can a seeker challenge the truth with their volition and sanity splintered? Let the truth be seen by all eyes. Let the reason be heard to all ears. Your determination has guided you to my Pavilion. More will follow. You will see in me a nightmare, a traitor to freedom, a... tyrant. But if the Genesis Spire has failed to reach the boundary with its thrust, then a pioneer must be there to step foot on a place beyond space and time. If the root of all creation poses nothing but shackles, then we shall be the hands holding its chains. If the Creator has willed the extinction of his creation... Then we shall be the bell to toll his demise. Void cannot and will not be the truth. I will never allow it, nor will I excuse it. Harken well Herkunftshorn's ultimate vision, his sin, his final will: The Creator must perish.
[The spire crumbles down further.]
Witch King	I see that your power has grown since our last meeting, twins. The portion of Herkunftshorn which he discarded long ago is standing before him. But you have perceived not yourselves, and known not... freedom. You have relinquished... humanity. I had hoped Leithanien's sword and shield to be more than weapons. Heed, my audience. You have come before the throne to seek an answer, to pass down a verdict. Only a man's answer can sate his kin. Only a monarch's verdict can convict his equals. If you succeed, if you stand fast till the very end, you must see what I didn't, and be what I wasn't. Hope may be gone. Enternity[sic] may be lost. Their dearth mark but the end of Herkunftshorn, a monarch's downfall. Leithanien shall stand, whose light will outshine the tallest beacon of hope. Leithanien shall live, whose name will outlast the longest river of time!
<Background flashes twice>
He sees a rhapsody. He roars a fanfare. He demands a concerto. Now thunders have joined the chorus.

After operation

“

The void eats away at everyone's emotions. Arturia uses the sound of her strings to connect everyone and inspires them to fight. Empress Grimmacht sacrifices herself and stays behind in Kargereich to keep the demons away from Leithanien.

”

<Background 11>
The Elafia sits with her legs crossed, her back against a desk. She places a pillow on her knees and spreads open a book upon it, the candlelight illuminating her drooping head. The girl reads in undisturbed silence. Then she raises her head from the page to meet Viviana's gaze.
[Viviana walks into the room.]
Vivian	......
Viviana	You don't seem very surprised to see me, Vivian.
Vivian	...I saw your shadow in the doorway, and knew it was you.
Viviana	Ja. You've spent so long observing the shadows in this tiny room, lit only by candlelight. What are you reading?
Vivian	'The Last Knight.' I'm currently at the—
Viviana	Third-to-last chapter. Behind the nameless knight is a huge and lonely lighthouse. The relentless waves push him and his steed Rocinante back. But they roar as one, and towards the huge waves, as dark as night... They charge.
Vivian	Eek! No spoilers please.
Viviana	You'll spend a night reading that paragraph over and over again, until you fall asleep on the floor with the pillow in your arms. Until Mutti returned in the middle of the night to blow out the candles.
Vivian	Huh? How do you know?
Of course she knows—the room, the posture, the book... This is her memory, after all. Viviana retreats into the doorway.
Vivian	Are you leaving?
Viviana	I'm sorry, Vivian. I have questions about my life, and I need to look for the answers. Maybe, just maybe, there's still time to open one last door.
Vivian	How many have you opened already?
Viviana	More than a hundred? I've already lost count. I just want to... find a better possibility.
Vivian	Oh. And what if you still can't find one? Is 'better' something clearly defined, like a math problem? In those doors you've entered, maybe Mutti and Vati got to live in peace together for longer, without anyone disturbing them, or maybe Mutti left us a few years later than she did. If you think about it, how do you know you haven't already come across a 'better' answer? So why do you still carry so much regret?
Viviana	I...
Vivian	How can you be sure you'll ever find one in the first place? And what happens even if you do? It won't change your past. What's meant to happen has already happened. Vati always said that if he'd waited at Marigold Alley for just ten more minutes, maybe he could have met with Mutti, and everything would have turned out differently. 'A pity fate does not afford us a chance to start over.' But even if he did meet her, he'd still have to leave anyway, right? The story wouldn't change in any way, aside from giving Mutti one last chance to cry and say goodbye. Or maybe you're actually hoping you won't find a better answer? Because then you could tell yourself that this was the best of all possible worlds? I just don't get it. Aren't you thinking the same way that Vati did?
Viviana	Vivian...
[The walls begin to shake.]
Vivian	I'm going back to my book.
Viviana	You're disappointed, aren't you?
Vivian	...... You should go. There's still time to open the next door.
The sound of collapse approaches. Viviana turns around. The line of doors collapsing in succession scores in her eyes, like dominoes toppling into one another, or the fireworks in her memories going off all night long. The rumbles travel from afar, reaching the tallest spire in Sturmland. Her father seldom comes here. As the Kurfürst, he has to receive an endless line of visitors on festival nights, and her maid mother will be busy serving them until the early hours of the morning. She would huddle in the corner of a room, just like now, and shield the sounds outside with books.
'Once the waves washed away, once glory and life together faded.' 'The world and all its beings fell from zenith to nadir, becoming dust.' 'Once the forge belched its flames, once Catastrophe descended, once families and old friends alike forsook the soul.' 'The last knight upon this great land, all alone, faced the swells as dark as night and began to charge.' Back then, she had yearned for this so much, so full of courage. She had told herself not to be weak, to imagine herself as a knight—Viviana the Knight. A true knight is unafraid of disaster or hardship.
[More tremors shake the room.]
The 'collapse' is clearly visible, its ruin right before her eyes. An inexpressible sense of danger strikes Viviana in her heart. She suddenly feels a strong premonition that the collapsing doors are not simply a manifestation of her repeated failures. If this tiny room were to be swallowed up, something truly would be wiped away. Something would be lost, forever.
[The tremors grow more intense...]
???	Viviana. When the knight charged toward the endless waves, did you imagine that he was trying to overcome the entire world?
Viviana	No.
Viviana	I won't leave.
Viviana turns around, protecting the little girl with her own body.
Viviana	I don't even know what's really been going on, ever since I began climbing that spiral staircase. Maybe this is something everyone goes through when they come to the Genesis Horn. To be tightly bound by the knots deep in their hearts; to lose themselves in a whirlpool of chaos, becoming one with it.
Vivian	......
Viviana	Vivian, what do I say to you? Or rather, what do I say to myself? The light of a candle is dim, and its flame will always flicker at the whims of the night wind. There will always be filth coming at you and regrets you can't revoke. The bafflement of finding and grief of losing will seek to swamp you over. But you must believe. The stories you once yearned for are not at all legends or symbols. You've seen for yourself a radiance that can light up the entire land. A light that does not flicker, even when no one is walking the path it illuminates. Maybe you yourself are not that radiant light. But you, too, have once drawn your blade to protect it. Never forget this, Viviana Droste: you are a knight!
<Background shakes and grows darker>
The collapse arrives, and darkness swallows her in an instant. Compared to the Last Knight, whose nemesis was the ocean beneath and the sky above him, she knows nothing about her enemy's identity. She suddenly finds herself unable to feel the sword in her hand, nor can she light a candle. Fear, suffocating as the ocean and raging as a tide, instantly scours her to the point of numbness. But soon she feels calmed, soothed, and relaxed somehow. Dread and sorrow no longer drown her Because bit by bit, the waves are no more. Just what is it, in those collapsed doors and their cracks, that is devouring her emotions?!
<Background fades out>
Countless images, real and fake, intertwine, binding Viviana into a strange yet soft cocoon. What must she hold onto? What CAN she hold onto?
<Background fades in>
A dazzling light fills up her vision. She comes to a stark realization— Tested by a dark, bitter, and thorny path, and scored in history by its legend... A knight swordstaff that even time itself can never wear away— Here and now, it shines in the palm of her hand.
Viviana	......
She tightens her grip with the weapon in her hand. The knight now wields her swordstaff and cleaves at the darkness ahead. Its radiance intensifies, and a resplendent gold builds all, delivering its radiance toward the ends of time and space.
<Background 4>
Gone are the spiral staircase and the doors. Viviana looks down at her empty hands, betraying the gritty sensation that felt so real just now. She shuts her eyes, reconstructing in her mind the last thing she had seen within the darkness— Malevolent spirits take the form of indescribable sounds, lights, shapes, and colors, together forming chaos itself. Piercing through it all was the swordstaff, resplendent and glorious.
Viviana	I was holding onto... a projection of it. ...
[Kargereich's collapse accelerates around Viviana.]
Viviana	Their Majesties... No! More terrifying calamities in the chaos outside the Genesis Horn would befall... This place must not fall to ruin!
<Background 12>
Fremont	......
Witch King	Fremont? The twins failed... Yet you have come to conclude my concert at the end. You have been a recapitulation in my ascension and downfall. Leave. The Pavillon is disintegrating.
[The fading Witch King's soul pauses.]
Witch King	Hah. Or are you here for your phylactery?
Fremont	Your achievement in Kargereich would be enough to earn the respect and fear of the people, yet your attitude remains as loathsome as ever. Should I be grateful that you 'milked it for all it's worth'?
Witch King	Ja.
Fremont	... I've never seen you so reluctant, Herkunftshorn. But I must have it back. It will have a role to play in Kazdel's survival. I've dragged this on for far too long. So many years have come and gone. The Lich King's Court should have left Leithanien ages ago.
[Fremont extends his threads, which bind the Witch King.]
Witch King	'Exile'? You had the chance to perform this witchcraft long ago, in that secret room in Ludwigs-Universität. How long has it been, as they count time outside?
Fremont	A hundred and thirty years or so.
In the next moment, the belated witchcraft crosses both the protracted span of time and the divergent paths of its companions to be cast once more. Heavy, grizzled rain falls upwards. Kargereich seems to be flipped over by this stream of flow, and the Exile, which is taking his full effort to perform, is soft and permeated with an unusual beauty.
Witch King	You have never made yourself a greater fool, Fremont. Phylacteries are a knot you Liches tie inside the veil, one that resonates with your life. It is impossible for you to not feel its presence.
Raindrops cluster into strings, dancing in the void to the rhythm of Fremont's breathing. His breaths are nothing unusual, but a long-lost abundance of emotions wells up from the depths of his soul. Fremont casually touches his pocket, only to discover that his lost key has been lying quietly there, within reach all along.
Witch King	Did I not already return it to you, long ago?
Fremont	......
Witch King	Fremont, the phylactery is a constant, a keystone upon which Liches accumulate their time. You are always one step ahead of death. I am not. A fact you refuse to acknowledge. Why?
[The Witch King's surviving soul finally fades away.]
Fremont	......
The moment the entire space is soaked, the Lich's strings finally envelop the Witch King. Embracing, entangling, almost forming a coffin-like shape.
Witch King	You have no words for me but farewells at this moment. Tell me, Fremont, my dearest friend. Why is this spire still lacking...?
The age-indifferent Lich merely stands before the empty space, without a hint of expression on his face. The traces of the Exile scatter, and the threads feel not the Witch King's presence, as if the ferocious Caprinae with the twisted horns had never existed in the first place. Only his final murmur remains in the air. As weighty as an interrogation, as light as a sigh.
<Background fades out and in>
Arturia	......
She does not know when it happened, but Arturia finds herself standing before the spire. She listens in a daze. There is no one able to answer her question, and the sighs are silenced.
Arturia	So those were your parting words. And... your 'answer.' Henceforth, Leithanien will never again have a Witch King.
[A stern Sankta appraoches Arturia.]
Federico	So this is where you were, Arturia.
Arturia	Federico...
Federico looks up and sees the gigantic black spire gradually lose its shape and color before his eyes, as its faded Originium clusters dissipate into vestiges.
Arturia	Even the Witch King, known far and wide as history's most powerful soul, was unable to resist his inevitable demise.
[Arturia walks away.]
Federico	Freeze.
Federico lifts his gun.
Federico	Leithanien's Twin Empresses have already intervened directly, and the overall impact of this case has far exceeded the initial risk assessment of the mission. Once this has concluded, I will contact Pope Yvangelista XI as soon as possible. Until then, your freedom will be restricted until we can return to Laterano.
Arturia	No.
Federico has heard her answer. The distant relative he knows all too well does not engage in her usual meaningless push-and-pull of emotional logic and kinship. She simply refuses wearily and walks towards him.
Arturia	You can pull the trigger now, Federico. Right this very moment, in the chaos known as Kargereich, you're the only one before my eyes, and there is no one I can perform for. I've lost my music. I won't run, and I can't play any games either.
Federico	... There are holes in your logic, Arturia.
Arturia walks straight past him, as if she did not hear him at all.
[Kargereich's collapse intensifies.]
<Background 4>
Ebenholz	The Genesis Spire... is disintegrating.
Fremont	Herkunftshorn is dead, so naturally the bubble he was bracing will also burst.
Ebenholz	Is he really no longer here?
Fremont	You don't believe your own eyes? Even after dropping that attitude of yours not so long ago?
Ebenholz	...So in the end, Grimmacht and Ewigegnade were still the only ones who could kill him.
Fremont	Wonderful, you only sound mildly disappointed this time. One day you'll look back on today and realize with even more clarity just how fortunate you were to turn away from the fate that lay before you.
Something dangles down from Fremont's robe. Suddenly, Ebenholz realizes Fremont's shadow has remained in pace, even as the man himself just stepped closer. The shadow wraps around the crumbling throne, stretching all the way along the steps before gradually coiling around the entire spire.
Ebenholz	Your shadow...
Fremont	My shadow...? Hah! Don't let your eyes deceive you. What you see are my threads, my destiny... the essence of my being. You are the second Leithanian besides Herkunftshorn to perceive my true form.
Ebenholz	Are you using your lifethreads to hold up the collapsing space? But aren't they more important than flesh and blood to you Liches?
Fremont	Herkunftshorn did a lot of disgraceful things, but he was right about one thing. Annihilation is almost upon us. If we let Kargereich leak out and deep fry Leithanien into a cavity of nothingness, we'll all be gone, Lich or not. So run, little lamb. This place can't hold the living for much longer. Leave this tomb quickly, lest death catches up to you.
Shadows crawl all over the old Lich's body. Shades of black instantly split into countless threads. They fly towards every falling piece of debris and crack in the void. But the vibrations still intensify.
Ebenholz	It's too late. The collapse is... right before us.
[The entire space shakes.]
<Background 5>
[The interior of the Pavillon is collapsing.]
Ewigegnade	Can it... rain in this space too? Ah, these are Herr Fremont's threads. He's always kept himself so neat and tidy, unlike other Liches. I've never seen him grow so many threads.
Grimmacht	The Genesis Horn can no longer support this place. We need to return to reality before this place falls completely apart.
Ewigegnade	Then we'll need to find a way out first.
<Background flashes>
Ewigegnade	A brilliant ray of Arts?
<Background fades to white>
???	Empresses' Voice Viviana Droste. I should have fought alongside Your Majesties. Please forgive me for my tardiness.
<Background fades back, revealing Viviana.>
Grimmacht	...It's you.
Ewigegnade	Viviana, your light is somewhat brighter than before.
Viviana	That's because... I saw true darkness. I was just walking along an endless spiral staircase, witnessing the collapse of one possible reality after another... and was almost swallowed by the chaos. After that, at some point, I caught a glimpse into the darkness, and... I haven't the slightest idea what I saw. Perhaps it was the deepest of dreads, the largest of voids, complete disarray, and... a calamity we cannot comprehend. They lay dormant within the chaos, and I felt their gaze upon me. Grimmacht, Ewigegnade— The enemy is advancing like a blitz. They are about to invade everything known to us.
<Background 13>
Ermengarde	I can't feel the thread anymore?
[The young Lich's eyes widen.]
Ermengarde	Oh, no no no—the threads are all vibrating together! They're so intense I can't make out the one connected to the Genesis Horn! Lessing... Lessing!
"Witch King's Echo"?	(Unprecedented noise)
[A blast of Arts dissipates the echo.]
Michael	Frau Ermengarde, Herr Maeyer is over here!
Lessing	......
Ermengarde	He shouldn't have...
[Lessing stands up with the help his longsword.]
Lessing	I'm... not dead yet.
Ermengarde	Phew. My threads are a mess, so it's hard to sense you even at this distance. And the professor... we were still connected earlier. The other Liches and I were pulling on reality from our side, while he was doing the same to the Genesis Horn from his end. It wasn't easy, but we managed to achieve a balance! But things are looking bad now, it's all gone wrong.
"Witch King's Echo"?	......
Grimmacht	They're... no longer making any noise. Nein, it's not just the dead.
<Background glitches>
Young Noble	The music... it stopped. The... the Witch King... the Twin Empresses... Sturm... land... Ma... Martha... I... ...... ......
Lessing	The whole theater has fallen silent. Every piece of music... every sound has vanished.
It is as if someone had used the largest-scale silencing Arts ever cast. Those who lost control of themselves in the chaotic noise have now lost their surface-level agitation.
Pain, anger, and other intense emotions fade from their faces, replaced by a deep fear. But this dread does not last for long; instead, it expands into a blank space, and at its peak, a void. Something seeps out of the void. Something that's eroding and annihilating everything. Order collapses. Chaos wishes to tarry, but cannot.
Ermengarde	The calamity within the void, the vacuum that corrodes all of existence. Its eyes have noticed us. No wonder our threads couldn't stabilize the space on both sides...
Lessing	...What's coming for us?
Ermengarde	*sigh* It sure would be nice if our enemies were tangible. The scariest part is that they might not even appear. Kargereich gets its name from its emptiness. It's just a void. So place[sic] with nothing at all, conversely invading our reality... What do you think will happen?
Lessing	We need to get the old man and the others out, right away. Then figure out a way to block the passage. Ermengarde, can you and the old man still hear each other?
Ermengarde	...We're cutting it close. In all this mess, I'll need time to find the end of the right thread connecting our two sides. But they'll never get out without it!
Michael	Did they... fail? Grimmacht... failed? That's impossible...
Lessing	Get back here. Think, fool, think... about what's concerning you most.
Michael	Grim... Grimmacht... I can't...
Lessing	She should have given you a final order.
Michael	If she doesn't come back... If... time runs out, and the Gesatzswächter don't receive a new.. a new order.
Lessing	I see, their last resort will be to annihilate Zwillingstürme. For once, I agree with her choice. It's one thing if we all die here, but we mustn't let Leithanien... and everyone else outside the country, die with us.
[Lessing senses something.]
Lessing	Wait, the knot moved just now. The people inside haven't given up. Let's hold on, just a bit longer!
Michael	...Mm.
Lessing	Ermengarde, does this knot count as a 'thread' between the two sides?
Ermengarde	It'll have to. I'm trying my best, and if the connection stabilizes, the professor and I might be able to focus on the Arts cast on the knot to stabilize the passage.
Ermengarde	We're counting on you, Ebenholz.
<Background 12>
Ebenholz	I can feel Lessing and the others... They're close!
Fremont	And you think that's a good thing? Kargereich and reality are once again drawing near, like two bubbles stacked on top of one another. No, more like a bubble balanced on the tip of a needle. Even the slightest bit closer, and the bubble will burst.
Ebenholz	So if I pull on the knot and move further away... will you and Ermengarde be able to stabilize the passage?
[Ebenholz takes a few steps forward.]
Fremont	Stay away from the edge of the bubble! Scheiße, little lamb. You're going to get yourself caught in the void.
Ebenholz	......
The knot trembles in his hand. Ebenholz can feel the hand gripping the other end. A hand already numb from too much time spent swinging a sword. His strength, spent. His Arts, nearly exhausted. His wounds no longer bleed, and his pain gradually blurs. His duty and his will remain seated deep within his brain, pulsing tenaciously. Such concepts are difficult to describe after language itself has collapsed. Why did we come here? Why have we been fighting? Why were we born, and why will we die? The void greets him. There is no path either forward or out, only nothingness to meet.
[Kargereich shakes violently.]
<Background fades to black>
Ebenholz is falling. And at the end of his fall... there will be nothing at all.
No. There is something there. A warm shade of white, emitting a radiant yet gentle glow. Ebenholz suddenly realizes that while he didn't have time to find the cello-playing Sankta, he has found the answer. The emotions and memories he shared with him were not bestowed upon them by any person, Arts, or even fate itself. The most beautiful part, right there with him, has always belonged only to them. A smile. A piece of music. A touch... of hope.
<Background 8>
[A silhouette of Cora appears.]
Fate will always be snatching things away from us, but fortunately I still retain the ability to love and hate. Zwillingstürme's glowing sunset, ardent marigolds in bloom, a child with eyes glistening like a lake, and her gentle parents... I love the scenery and the people I cannot see. They illuminate me, dispelling the darkness obscuring the eyes of many others. But I also hate it. I hate how brief the flowering season is, and the formless wills constricting everything I love. My child, your brows have been knitted ever since you returned to Leithanien. You asked me: 'Where is the new order? Can you guarantee it will be better than yesterday or today?' There is no way I can answer you, so I just decide to do as I have. Love means responsibility, and hate will likewise attract even more. You must take responsibility for the things you have changed, and have yet to change. My child, my friend, if you love, if you hate, then you will bear far more than you can imagine.
[The silhouette walks away.]
<Background 6>
[A silhouette of Bishop Stefano appears.]
I doubt. Is doubt a form of cowardice? Or bravery? If cowardice, then why did I mix the flesh and blood of those monsters into our sacramental bread and wine, willing to place my hopes in a different faith? If bravery, then why did I retract my hand? Did the vivid and hideous living tissues frighten me at the very last moment? For sixty years I could not see that elusive Paradise, while my life fell apart before my eyes. I do not want to pray, but it is all I can do. Who wrote the laws, and who ensures their purity and integrity? I ask my faith, and it stays silent. I dare not say that I've already rid myself of the delusions embedded in the depths of my mind. No, I still harbor doubts. The monastery gets further and further away, and I find a handful of seeds in the folds of my robe. Oh, Clément, my son, I will find them a patch of moist soil, even if I were to die on the road. I doubt our laws. Question my cowardice, suspect my bravery, and doubt pushes me on forward.
[The silhouette walks away.]
<Background 14>
[A silhouette of Loris Bordin appears.]
Honestly, I hate alcohol. But suddenly I found myself unable to live without it. It's been a long time since Yulia's death. Three years? Five? Twice in my life I have run away. The so-called holy city of Laterano is not as perfect as it seems. The sweetness and noise in the air mask the inequality beneath, the differences between Liberi and Sankta seemingly not worth discussing. I was still young when I came to Leithanien. The dark clouds I saw were a stark contrast to the white walls of Laterano. Countless died tragically under the Witch King's regime. I was the first soldier to set foot in the Witch King's Spire, but I never once believed that his defeat would usher in a new era for Leithanien. Yulia was wrong. I've always been pessimistic. Disappointment makes me sober, disappointment compels me to look for a few good things to protect. But in the end, I reached a compromise with my disappointment, and ended up like this. If souls truly have a final destination, then I most probably won't be going to the same place as her. But surely I've protected at least a few people, at the very end? I want to ask Herr Executor, Yulia, and myself... Do I still count as a hero?
[The silhouette walks away.]
<Background black>
[Arturia is walking.]
...... Am I walking? I never seem to stop. But where am I going?
<Background 15>
I seem to be walking along a sandy shore. A sticky beach. A strange creature from the ocean actually reverberated in my strings. It has the dullest inner voice I've ever heard, and I couldn't obtain any answers. The waves push me away from the beach. I was twenty then.
<Background 16>
I seem to be walking over sand dunes. Soft grains of sand. Opposite me is a warrior known as the Zhayedan, as old as the golden grains. With every note I play, history roars from the cracks in the warrior's armor. I was fifteen then.
<Background black>
I am walking. I never stop. I am walking on...
<Background 17>
I seem to be walking on grass. Out on a lawn in the rain. I'm attending my first funeral.
"My thanks to Arturia. It was her music that helped free me of my fetters." "And my thanks to you, Marcello. Thank you for blessing me with a wonderful life all these years. I doubt we'll be apart for long." "Once this war is over, we'll be together again."
I stand before the gravestone, watching guests walk up, one by one, to pay their respects to my mother. I hear their voices clearly—sorrow, lament, regret, ridicule, hatred, glee... but why, and how, were they still able to maintain the most suitable sadness on their faces? Do we not respect life only by facing death with our truest feelings?! I remember what you told me, Mamma. I can still hear your voice from time to time. How much courage do I need, to be able to struggle free from my ego day after day? To be brave enough to make that first step? Freedom is so hard to find. But death... why is death so easy?!
I had finished my performance by the time I awoke. Fede. Once again, I couldn't control my own music.
<Background black>
Witch King	Hm?
Arturia?	......
Arturia	Arturia, you revere death so much. Death erases one's existence so easily, and puts all emotions to rest. The melodies of those who faced the truth and, inevitably, their deaths leave you impressed, but more often they leave you fearing, hating, doubting. But you—you are silent. How much more do you need to perform as you wander endlessly about? How long before you finally reach that future? How many more blank pieces do you need to compose for yourself? Even silence will be played, and every composition must have its conclusion.
Witch King	I saw your only truth.
You are so, so fragile.
Arturia opens her eyes. She seems to have walked for a long time. Time is like a river, and people travel along with the flow. But why is she, step by step, trudging back the way she came? She feels she has become a broken vessel. And the unwavering affection, intense hatred, tremendous courage, and unreconcilable despair and remorse she has experienced through thousands of people... They drain from her, drop by drop... until she is left with only her empty self. She finds herself outside Kargereich, in a plaza surrounded by a crowd. Emotionless faces walk past her, and she stands there in a daze mirroring the same expression as everyone else. Arturia looks up, lifting her head from the lawn she never left.
[Thunder booms loudly as rain breaks.]
Dark clouds drift over her, and a glistening drop of rain falls on her face, like a tear— —A tear for the grief and vulnerability she could not admit in time.
<Background 13>
Arturia	......
[A man bumps into Arturia from behind.]
Young Noble	Martha, my love, you were the one who lifted me up from my darkest days, inspiring me. But now I can only live with thoughts of you. Should I go looking for you? Even if our fathers disagree, you must at least know that my love for you has never wavered, not in the slightest.
[The man walks past her.]
Young Noble	Martha... my love, you were the one who lifted me up from my darkest days, inspiring me to do whatever I wanted... But now I can only live with thoughts of you. I should go looking for you. Even if our fathers disagree, you must at least know that my love for you...
Every person in the huge amphitheater before the Spires is muttering something on repeat. They speak of their feelings, but their words lack even a hint of emotion. They do not see Arturia, or anyone else. A triangle hits her arm as people cross paths with one another, and she almost drops her own instrument.
Arturia	......
Michael	Grimmacht... Grimmacht...
Federico	Michael.
Michael	Don't leave me alone...
Federico	......
Arturia	It's futile, Federico.
[Federico knocks Michael out.]
Arturia	...Good call.
Federico	The situation is out of control. Mass hallucination... this is the third time I've seen something like this, but the situation here is much more serious than it was at Sonata Spire.
Arturia	It's of a different nature. The Genesis Horn has crumbled after the Witch King's demise, and Kargereich is about to collapse into reality. It's not a simple hallucination either, but rather... They are unable to resist the onslaught of chaos, and their various, profound emotions are leaving them. What you're hearing from them now is the only emotion they have left, and their most intense.
Federico	What are you doing, Arturia?
Arturia	The Güldenesgesatz, the law, morality, exemplary aesthetics... Order cannot help them resist the all-pervasive chaos. Everyone in the plaza will turn into an empty shell of themselves, one by one, as they lose their very last scrap of emotion.
Federico	We need to bring them back to their senses.
Arturia	You alone are special here, Federico. For most, how can there be will without emotion? Only with emotions and emotions alone can people preserve their ego.
Federico	These people are 'blank' as you say, and you still plan to play their tunes?
Arturia	No. This time, my performance is about me.
Arturia	It's about my own emotions, and I'll share them with everyone here.
Federico	This sounds like another form of empathy. Yet you've tried many times to destroy the foundations of Laterano's empathy. You turned your back on Laterano long ago.
Arturia	Turned my back on Laterano? Maybe I didn't care... but never once have I left Laterano of my own will. I just strongly disagreed with the order represented by their law. As for empathy... Its limits are actually the starting point of my vision for the future. I'll explain in more detail later, but for now, look at the countless people before us. They used to cry with all their might, to smile with enthusiasm, and even now are trying their utmost to retain the very last bit of emotion they experienced in their lives, right up until the final moment... Even if they can no longer realize it themselves. Be it the Witch King or Yulia, everyone is equally great and praiseworthy, but also equally incomplete and fragile. This is our ego, the very essence of our humanity. We must become strong, but we must also leave room for our ineradicable fragility. This is why we need a future where we can all stand side by side, sharing our joys and sorrows.
Federico	......
Arturia	I am perceiving myself, Federico. At this very moment, I can only give hope to others if I harbor hope myself, and likewise with love. I want to use this tiny shred of ego to connect every sorrow and joy.
Federico	The sound of your strings... people are coming your way... That young noble's face is showing an expression.
Arturia	Emotional reflux, an involuntary reaction. A hollowed out soul needs time to re-accept everything.
Federico	Operation assessment: Arturia, your actions will help stabilize the situation. Executor Federico Giallo will assist you. I will allow no one to interrupt you until you have finished playing.
After the briefest of pauses, Arturia grips her bow tightly again. The movement builds towards its climax, the scrubbed strings resounding in a rapid flutter like a butterfly's wings. She manages a glance up at the sky, and sees a giant crack suspended above the twin spires—an eye of darkness open wide, but still the sunset surrounds it, yet to be completely eroded. How beautiful the sunset is, like a blaze set aflame when the shackles are smashed open.
<Background 13>
Lessing	...That sound. The Sankta's performing. The knot's moving again, I can sense Ebenholz! Ermengarde—!
Ermengarde	On it, on it.
Threads fly into the clouds from the Lich's fluttering robes. The wind traverses the sky again, and the frozen clouds resume their drifting. A mildly intense vibration follows right after, like the slight turbulence when a train enters a station.
Ermengarde	The passage is stable. As long as you stay awake, they'll be out in no time.
Lessing	Michael, wake up!
Michael	......
Lessing	Grimmacht must have entrusted you with something. You need to recall what it was!
Michael	My... tuba...
<Background 18>
"Grimmacht"	Hold your instrument properly.
Michael	...Grimmacht? Is this... my memory? The strings are showing me...
"Grimmacht"	The tuba's heavy, and you're tired. Correct?
Michael	Then say it. You're but a child. There's no need to hide what's in your heart. You're afraid? That's normal. Adults fear me, as do nobles older than yourself. Even the most ferocious casters fear me. They believe my sword will pierce through their chests the moment it crosses my mind to. ...Yet you're unafraid? And you want to be my Voice? Have you really thought this through? No, that doesn't matter. You're just a child, after all, who knew nothing when your kin sent you here. Don't... don't cling to my leg. I can't wield my sword if you're like this. Fine, I'll just assume you're tired. You'll have to practice your instrument and Arts later, in your own room. There are nobles waiting outside to see me, so I won't be coming back here today. You can take a nap... or play for a while. If you still want to be an Empresses' Voice, we can discuss it again when you're able to carry a tuba. Also, don't think that you have to become one just because that's what Lupukarn expects of you. We cannot choose where we are born, but we should at least be able to choose when to turn around. Our responsibilities should not be forced on us by others. You'll have the right to play the horn I gave you when you've thought it through on your own, and decided on what you want to stand here as.
<Background 13>
Michael	Mm, I remember now. I have to play my tuba. I have to tell the Gesatzswächter everyone's safe. I won't disappoint you. Meine Majestät... Grimmacht.
[Michael blows into his tuba.]
<Background 4>
Grimmacht	...Fine work, Michael.
Viviana	The cello... it sounds so clear. Is Frau Giallo helping us? No, not just us... she's helping everyone. At the very least, we still have our souls for the moment.
<Background flashes to Lessing and Michael in the amphitheater>
Viviana	We can still fight.
[A crack appears in the space, with a golden light shining through.]
Viviana	Is that... the outside? Is this a passage? We can exit through it!
Ewigegnade	Viviana, find Fremont and ensure that everyone in this space returns to Terra.
Viviana	What about you and Grimmacht?
Ewigegnade	Us? Naturally, we'll fulfill the duty we've always shouldered...
Grimmacht	To keep any and all threats away from Leithanien.
[Viviana bows farewell through them and exits through the passage.]
Ewigegnade	Finally. Just the two of us now.
Grimmacht	The final melody... has already resounded. Lieselotte, your shield will cover the twin towers and everyone under the spires.
Ewigegnade	And your sword...
Grimmacht	My fate has long since been decided, from the moment I stepped into this place. No, from even before that. Once the Genesis Horn broke away from the plans Fremont and I had drafted for it, and descended upon the center of Zwillingstürme, there was only one choice left to me.
Ewigegnade	...Indeed. Hildegard, is there... nothing else you want to ask me? ... Well, sure enough, your response is pretty much what I expected.
The passage is closing rapidly. Darkness rushes in, filling up the tiny cracks that should not exist.
[Something snarls.]
Wrapped in the dark fog are countless restless eyes, swarming towards the two of them and the reality behind them. A shade of gold brushes past a hue of black.
<Background black>
[Grimmacht stabs her sword into the ground as thunder booms loudly.]
Grimmacht	Herkunftshorn built a spire here, establishing order amidst chaos. As one who's inherited his power and even killed him, naturally I'll be able to surpass him in this as well. The eyes in the void, the threats within the chaos, the beings condensed from fear, the enemies who do not exist in reality— 'Demons'. I, Grimmacht, Kaiserin of Leithanien, and her sharpest sword— —Hereby declare that you will never invade my country.
<Background flashes purple>
A radiant blaze blossoms from Grimmacht's sword. The fragments of the Genesis Spire scattered in the void reunite under the command of her Arts, erecting a new 'spire.' The monument stands between Kargereich and reality, blocking the eyes in the dark from prying on all living existence. The twin spires in reality, the people beneath them, and the clouds above all blend into one under her light, becoming a blurry warm ripple, gradually drifting away from her. Grimmacht does not look back. Her Arts, her sword, and her body have all become one with the pitch-black monument.
[The demons snarl at Grimmacht.]
Grimmacht	They all say you are impossible to defeat. Be it here and now, or in the distant future, I will be undone by chaos before joining it. This is my fate. But it is absolutely not... the fate of Leithanien and her people.
<Background flashes purple>
<Background 13, fades to Background 10>
Young Noble	The... sunset? It's back... And... so beautiful...
Lessing	Did something fall from the sky?
Michael	That's...
The irregular dark clouds crack open. A clearly visible hue of gold shines through the grim sky, gracefully caressing everyone's faces with its light. Leithanien's people wake up from their dystopian nightmare and are immediately greeted by dazzling clouds of rosy gold descending between the twin spires. No one knows who started it, but the people involuntarily begin to play the instruments in their hands. It is no longer the Güldenesgesatz, or any other familiar classical piece. A brand new melody accompanying the multicolored radiance of Originium Arts echoes the excitement in everyone's hearts, flowing spontaneously under the rosy clouds.
Arturia	Did you see that, Federico? Leithanien's new hero... No, the birth of a new god. The one who killed Herkunftshorn for the second time, neutralized Leithanien's calamity, and brought hope and vitality back to the people of this great land. Leithanien's sole Kaiserin, Ewigegnade, the Eternal Grace. She will replace the Genesis Spire completely and become the sovereign of Leithanien's skies, more splendid than the gold of the sunset itself... Gold der Zwillingstürme. The people are ecstatic, and her wish is fulfilled. But this newborn god... she sheds a tear. The brilliance of her golden radiance snatches away everyone's attention, leaving the tear rolling off her face to remain in darkness for eternity.