Logos

[Code Name] Logos

[Gender] Male

[Combat Experience] 12 Years

[Place of Birth] Kazdel

[Date of Birth] Sep 5

[Race] Sarkaz

[Height] 178cm

[Infection Status]

Confirmed Infected by medical examination.

[Physical Strength] Standard

[Mobility] Outstanding

[Physical Resilience] Standard

[Tactical Acumen] Excellent

[Combat Skill] Outstanding

[Originium Arts Assimilation] ■■

Logos, elite caster operator, Arts master, and young 'Hostess' of the Convallis of the Banshees. Participated in the Kazdel Civil War as one of Babel's core members, and became one of the first elite operators of Rhodes Island. He is credited with establishing the standards and procedures for assessing an operator's Originium Arts assimilation, the definitive benchmark for predicting future Arts potential.

His current duties include field command, assessment and selection of caster operators, and encrypting and deciphering sensitive intel.

Imaging tests show the indistinct outlines of internal organs, obscured by abnormal shadows. Originium granules detected in the circulatory system. The subject is confirmed to be infected with Oripathy.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 10%

Logos's external symptoms are mild compared to other Kazdelian operators, but medical tests tell a different story.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.22u/L

Tests indicate that Logos's condition is more advanced than many veteran Sarkaz in our ranks. Fortunately, it is now under control thanks to his continuing cooperation with our treatment.

That Banshee prince? He wasn't always so cooperative. I've personally seen him alter test records with his incantations, to let others get treated first. Maybe it was out of the kindness of his heart, but that's not a trick any patient should play on their doctors. What happened afterward? Well, Dr. Kal'tsit found out, and the rest, as they say, is history.

—Anonymous senior medic

In a recognition test conducted by Field Operations instructors with 300 reserve operators, more than 60% of respondents identified Logos's picture as a Liberi. 30%—the ones who paid attention in training—identified his 'ear feathers' and horns as belonging to a rare Elder offshoot from the east, which, while not entirely off-base, nevertheless misses the mark. Of the less than 20 respondents who accurately identified his race, five correctly noted his Royal Court affiliation, two arrived at the answer by guesswork, and another eight cheated.

Of course, the instructors did not come up with this idea, but Logos himself.

One is bound to encounter many of his ideas by spending enough time on Rhodes Island, such as inserting Banshee incantations into sensitive documents to protect their confidentiality. Anyone who attempts to access our secrets and somehow manages to evade S.W.E.E.P. surveillance still has to deal with more than a hundred different incantations personally developed by Logos, including ones that melt your eyeballs in their sockets, others that make you forget to breathe, etc.

How did that [expletive] Banshee cast his incantations on my anti-Arts drones? And don't think I've forgotten about that saliva hex!

—Closure

His best ideas, though, are reserved for his Arts research. In the past, it was believed that Sarkaz witchcraft and modern Arts are entirely distinct branches in the history of Originium usage. One being powerful but unruly, bound to bloodlines and rituals, while the other is well-founded in scientific theory and accessible to the many. Logos was unwilling to accept this conventional wisdom at face value, but could not find substantial evidence to the contrary, whether in ancient tomes or modern journals.

To his own surprise, though, he found his inspiration in a game of riddles with Mechanist. Mechanist had incorporated voice commands into his riddles, requiring the use of voice-activated devices to solve them verbally. When he accidentally solved a riddle by uttering an incantation, Logos realized that the rules and logic of incantations, a form of witchcraft ritual performed through language or music, could perhaps be applied to modern Arts as well.

With assistance from Pith and Misery—and working through Banshee incantations as a test case—Logos successfully extracted the key component of Sarkaz witchcraft from modern Arts theory: the 'semantics' of rituals, i.e. the caster's definition of goal and cost. The principles are complicated, but the conclusion is simple: he has unlocked brand-new possibilities for the application of Arts. Any modern Arts could theoretically be recreated through witchcraft by designing the proper incantation or ritual, including those used in large-scale industrial production. The converse is also true: it is not outside the realm of possibility that modern methods could be incorporated into the use of witchcraft.

According to the Core convention, such an important academic breakthrough calls for the publishing of its own book. Perhaps the time had come for Kazdel to have its own foundational text.

When asked, however, the young Banshee pondered the question, then said that he would wait until the day Kazdel truly needs it.

The golden forest and winding canyon conceal a secret path. There are no forks in the road, and no way back once you have tread it; only the Banshees and their honored guests may walk this incantation-woven path. Emerge from the path, and you still need cross a fog-shrouded bridge of white stone, walking through the night until you reach the end of the bridge along with the first ray of dawn. Gaze towards the sunrise, and you will see a stepped balcony wide enough to hold hundreds. Then you may carefully remove the veil the Banshees place upon their guests, and see for the first time the spectacular sight of the Convallis.

Massive rock structures line the valley walls. Once used to build walls and fortresses, they have been reshaped by witchcraft into flowing shapes that support hanging gardens and overpasses reminiscent of a Banshee's dress. It is almost noon, and you could follow the Banshees frolicking in the water into the depths of the Convallis to see crystal-clear streams converge before your eyes, carrying the Banshees' delicate song even further into the Convallis. Sun shines upon the golden forests, the reflection of the leaves like flames tamed by the breeze, burning brightly beneath the overflowing colors of the hanging gardens. Do not leave hastily at sunset, even if you fear the sight will consume the rest of your life. Watch as the mistress of the Convallis steps out from her palace dressed in silk like midnight, greeted by a procession of crones. The Banshees remove their garlands and veils, and sing in response to her song a dirge for the souls who have passed into the beyond between day and night.

This is the Convallis of the Banshees.

Two centuries ago, following the failure of the coalition invasion of Kazdel, Laqeramaline—the Great Banshee and one of the Six Heroes—abandoned the Banshee hold in Kazdel and led the remnants of her court to the valley, their last abode. Aefanyl was born to the blessings of his countless sisters, and grew up in a garden overlooking the deepest parts of the Convallis. Filled with curiosity about Kazdel, the history of the Sarkaz, and the war the Six Heroes fought, he began delving into the old tomes and scrolls of the Sarkaz even before his tenth birthday. He soon began to doubt his mother's decision to lead their Royal Court away from Kazdel: if the Banshees could create such a paradise in this valley, why would they abandon their kin in Kazdel? What does the city look like now?

Aefanyl felt no joy when he came to the city he had so often dreamed of, searching for the answer on his own. Gazing back at his homeland, he began to see the dilemma of the Banshees, and the fragility of the Convallis. He was bewildered by the burning furnace of souls, the crowds beneath the tall smokestacks, and the power games played by the Royal Courts in the shadows. It was his encounter with Theresa that changed the circumstances of the young Banshee. At Babel, he became Logos, and found another vision for Kazdel's future.

For a long time, he has refused to talk about the home of the Banshees, considering any reminiscence on the comforts of the Convallis to be a betrayal of his other kin. He will never forget the day he shared his vexation with the old soldiers of Babel as they sat around a campfire, oblivious to the arrogance of his thinking.

'Did you think we would envy you, little Banshee? We followed Her Highness and Babel because we wanted a better life!'

'Yeah! Just because we lived in Kazdel all our lives doesn't mean we don't deserve to hear stories about something other than war!'

'Tells us more, Logos!'

'Hey, Logos, I heard your people had a special traditional dessert...'

And for the first time, Logos spoke of his homeland, the Convallis of the Banshees.

To put it bluntly, the elite operators of Rhodes Island are a bunch of weirdos. Not to say that they're the only weirdos on Rhodes Island, or that they're unqualified in any way. I've told you before that our elites are not necessarily peerless warriors, only that they always stand for Rhodes Island at the very front. They must be willing to give everything for our dream, and remain true to this vow even at the worst of times.

To cross beyond death, and usher in a more just vision.

You've worked with most of them by now; you know why they're called 'weirdos.' But let me fill in some details: Blaze often gets her own critical condition notice from Medical because she ends up going into shock multiple times in every high-intensity operation. Stormeye tends to get distracted by the prospect of facing powerful foes and needs a no-nonsense partner like Sharp to keep him on track. Misery's dagger tricks are in fact completely unrelated to his Arts, and were inspired by a bet between him and Outcast. Mechanist's machine oil latte is real, while Mantra has a knack for keeping up with the latest gossip on the ship...

As for Logos, I'm sure many on Rhodes Island still remember the stool racing competition. You weren't there—a shame—but yes, Logos organized that. They held the qualifiers in the workshop, then moved to the training grounds for the finals. The night before, Logos and Mechanist made some unapproved changes to the training grounds; when the contestants arrived the next day, they found themselves facing a grueling obstacle course with numerous sharp curves and slopes.

Blaze was the first to be disqualified after melting her own wheels while trying to get a head start with heated air. Mechanist started full of confidence, but got swept off the course by his own contraptions at the first U-curve. Misery, sitting lost in thought on his steadily moving stool, failed to take evasive action and took Outcast out in the process... As the favorites dropped out one by one, Ace caught up with Logos and Scout in the lead, and the trio charged towards the finish line in a clump. That was when Amiya and Kal'tsit walked in. Ace immediately exited the course, but Logos and Scout failed to notice that the cheering crowd had suddenly gone quiet. Anyway, Logos won, Scout took second place, and there was no third place. Under Kal'tsit's supervision, Amiya 'reprimanded' the primary culprit—Logos—as Rhodes Island's leader for the very first time.

That's what our elite operators are like.

Joining those weirdos is easier than people think. All you need is approval from Amiya and the Elite Operator Council, and you'll get a small key giving you access to their workshop. One must pass through its doors to become accepted into their ranks.

Each key is personally crafted by Logos and can never be taken from its owner. It serves as their personal token, and Logos is the first to know if its owner can never return. Whereupon he commands the key to self-destruct, leaving no trace behind.

Logos and all the other weirdos know well the toll their dream will exact upon them.

The vines of the past have tugged at Logos's feet ever since he set foot in Londinium. He knew that facing the sovereigns who chose Theresis meant facing the history of Kazdel, a history that would reproach him, oppress him, and attempt to coerce the young sovereign who had denied the duty of his bloodline and tried to destroy the seeds planted by Qui'lon.

The life-or-death battle he endured was a grueling trial, but he survived, and so did his ideals.

Logos told us something he had once discussed with the Doctor: aside from pragmatic dangers, the Sarkaz of Kazdel have long carried a inextricable curse, like a self-contradictory Arts riddle. He used the example of a Banshee's blinding curse to illustrate this. The quickest and most effective way to break the curse is to remove one's eyeballs, but of course that would simply result in permanent blindness. Those who have tried to save Kazdel from its predicament face the same dilemma. Anyone carrying the burden of history is inevitably crushed by it, but those who cast it aside can never paint the future the Sarkaz long for.

This revelation came not only from the twins of the Heroic Age. Logos had long been perplexed by Laqeramaline's choice, trying and failing to answer why she had led the Banshees away from Kazdel without fully distancing herself from Kazdel's matters. Finally, he found the answer in Londinium. Laqeramaline had left herself in the past when Logos left Kazdel with Babel. She had carved out cracks in the vines, waiting for Logos to find his own way to free himself from them. She always believed that his wisdom would exceed her expectations.

History, however, does not wait for the Banshee to complete his theory.

The actions of Rhodes Island in Londinium have brought turmoil to Kazdel. The failure of the Military Commission's forces and the fall of the sovereigns of the Royal Courts have reignited the embers of ambition. Even the Liches leaving their temple for the first time in many years to maintain order may not be enough to prevent another civil war. The curse of history bellows, unless those in power in Kazdel can bring the situation under control. Unless...

'Unless the ghosts of the past are allowed to die, and the shackles be no more.'

The Banshee mutters, his bone pen floating by his side.

A long time ago, when the young river bed was not yet covered in waves.

A lone traveler had lost his way in the Convallis.

He sipped on dew and fed on dust, until a beautiful Banshee appeared before him.

'Why do you not ask the sun where you should go, traveler?'

'My eyes are ruined, and I wish not to gaze up at a foreign land where I may not dwell.'

'Why do you reject the guide's invitation to lead you to a new home, traveler?'

'He is the embodiment of lies. With his honeyed words he stole my bag and my walking stick.'

'Yet you speak to me. Do you not fear my curse, that I would feed upon you?'

'Sing a dirge for me, then. Let my hungry memories gaze upon home for the last time.'

'No, wretched-yet-brave one, come with me, and let the song of the Banshees lend you sight and heal your wounds.'

The enchanting mist kisses the traveler's lips and takes his hand, leading him into the depths of the Convallis.