WD-1 The Siege of Redhorn

......

No-one here. (We still haven't seen a trace of them. Did they get caught up in something...?)

Strange. This is exactly where we agreed to meet up, right?

Our coordinates check out.

We can't rule out a sandstorm. Let's stay calm.

Sesa... this isn't good.

Hey, now. They're not here yet, but what good is it being so grim? Are we just going to have a staring contest?

Now's not the time for video games, though. Why did you bring that along?

Not important—

Something must be wrong. We should've at least gotten contact at a set time.

......

Shouldn't we do something or other?

Don't worry so much. What can we even do? The best plan is to just sit tight here, and wait for an answer.

But... it's been too long.

Hold on, there's—

(Sargonian) Good morning.

Heavyrain! Cool it!

Hmph—

S—Sorry, I struck on reflex...

(Sargonian) Oh, your looks deceive. You're quite the quick-tempered girl. This will only damage your first impressions, though...

(Sargonian) This is the Reefsteep Black Market, and we're all in business here. I trust we have words for each other, so no need for an armed conversation, yes?

(Sargonian) What day is today? Why would the 'Sand Soldier' be here?

(Sargonian) Oh, you recognize me?

(Sargonian) The head intel peddler of the Reefsteep market, the puppeteer of the vast majority of all armed conflicts in Ibut, styled by the locals as 'Zuzu.'

(Sargonian) In ancient tongue, it entailed a charm, or perhaps a talisman—

(Sargonian) —but I know what lies behind your new name, 'Sand Soldier.' What's a major player like you up to here?

(Sargonian) Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I just wanted to have a chat with you two. With... er, Rhodes Island.

(Sargonian) Or perhaps... I've disrupted your original itinerary?

......!

(Sargonian) ...Where are our Operators?

Oh... so you're from Sargon too, then. Good. Then let's get right to the point.

Your Operators are safe and sound. Your batch of experimental medical material... also untouched.

Where are they?

Who knows?

You—

Heavyrain, rein it in!

Quite right. Rein it in. You haven't even the capital to start a conflict with me here.

Compared to how valuable your pharmaceutical materials are, a few porters can't be worth much in my concern...

You have your eyes on those materials.

And if I nodded yes?

......

Let our Operators go. We'll hand over the goods. How about that?

Oh? As simple as that?

But all I took was a few employees... now I'm a little skeptical.

Your goods might've had a small footprint, but they're not cheap. It doesn't seem 'Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals' is so profligate a company. Would you really be so willing to give them up?

I'll stop you right there. Forget market value. Human life is the most precious thing to us.

A perspective bursting with humanity. But who'll step up to weigh them, then—decide their worth?

Will a certain 'Kal'tsit?'

You nabbed our contract... You know Dr. Kal'tsit?

No, it's a very common name. Over these years, I've sought so many people in error... so many.

Back to our original topic.

Oh, my apologies. Your people are actually waiting right outside, and I have no interest in your goods—

—Heavyrain.

I'll go check now—you stay alert.

As you wish.

Huh! The fixer from the black market... wouldn't come here just to scare our new recruits, would he?

Rhodes Island and the Sargon black market are far from bosom friends. We only had to take this plunge after some of our drugs got jammed up in Columbia.

Oripathy waits for no-one, correct? That's all this is. There should be no conflict between us.

I've heard of you before, the armaments tuner 'Bridge,' having worked for three different arms dealers in the past. A fine reputation. Oh, I believe you're called 'Sesa' now?

Really, you make too much of me.

Well, then, what gives you an interest in Rhodes Island?

During a routine probing of accounts, a completely watertight transaction came to light. You must know, not one sheaf of gold in the Reefsteep passes out of my notice.

And?

No, no cause for worry. You haven't exposed any leverage, and as I've already said, your transaction doesn't interest me. It's just the... signature, on this contract, that I mind.

Come. I have time to spare today. Tell me, what kind of place is Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals?

They're firing! Ambush! Ambush!

Withdraw our cov—aghh—

Are they mad?! With this many civilians around?!

Quick! Hide here!

Shit, close. Thanks.

—Fire, fire! My house—ukh— (The sound of a throat being pierced.)

Hurry! Hurry!!

Eyaaargh—

Too many civilians getting caught up...! Are they trying to pull the Lord Ameer of Ibut's whole army in!?

The Lord Ameer's army? How do you know they weren't the army in disguise?

You mean—

Look at this.

The red mark...? You picked this off one of the corpses—?

I did. We've been fooled by our own. The situation here is a complete mess now. You might not even get it if I gave you the whole lecture—

It's way more than just us who wanted to ransack that squad. Dammit. Grab it and turn it into cash, my ass. This is a full-blown war now—

The sentry sent me all the coordinates before going black. There's four different identifiers all crawling this one area!

Do you understand what this means? Either we break through the line and earn big, or we still have the chance to surrender right now!

—Goddamnit! This is insane!

*pant*... *pant*... *cough*, *cough* *cough*...

...should be... alone here...

*cough*...

...wh—who?

A child? Why are you carrying a body... eugh, get out of here already!

Hold on... your clothes! You're a Columbian!? You're from the 'Sand Soldiers'!

B8 here, we have a survivor, a Liberi child, carrying a grown man's body—

——!

Hey, hold it right there!

Alright, kids, you all heard that. The 'Sand Soldiers' still have one left alive! We need to bring him over!

There's still a chance our target fell into someone else's hands. Just in case, kill every last one you come across. Doesn't matter if they're the Lord Ameer's. Even if Padishah Murad himself is here, he has to die too.

Remember, a silver box. I want to be sitting on that singing before the sun goes down.

We've intercepted their comms band. It seems the 'Sand Soldiers' still have a survivor.

A child, carrying a body, probably a comrade. Think he's got what Padishah's after?

Not one team's retreated from that town yet. Chances are they're all still looking for their target.

Of course. Everyone swarming that tiny of a town at once is just going to add to the chaos, waste time and nothing else.

Hold on, our Caster's gotten news. Something's up...

What?

There's a freight truck... registration Tkaronto, Columbia... parked near the Central Smoke bazaar.

A woman and a monster? Monster? What monster—oh.

Line cut off. He gets careless too?

No, his ambush point is at least a kilometer out from the bazaar. It shouldn't have been that fast. Not unless whatever team this is knew the topography here like the backs of their hands... or maybe, they're just experienced enough to blow anyone off the sand.

Could it be someone from Vouivre? Or some other cutthroat here on Columbia's dime?

Let's watch this unfold first.

*pant*... *pant*...

*cough* *cough*... Why did... Teacher... *cough* *cough*!

——!?

Our target's around here! He can't get that far carrying a body—

Tch! We've got trouble! No hesitating! Kill!

...am... am I safe...?

...Teacher, Teacher... come on, wake up...

The... I can't stop the blood... you still haven't taught me so much... what do you want me to do...

...Target found.

——

Don't move! One more inch and I'll cut your head off!

Scared stupid, aren't you, talking to a dead guy? Uh-huh?

Put that idiot on your back down and tell me, where is it!?

...I...

I don't know...

Mmph—

Don't try and fool me, you worthless... huh?

Is this... the 'Sand Soldier' leader's body? What are you... wait, do you have it on you?

—Don't touch him!

Gah! Who do you think you are—piss off!!

Ugh...

The silver combination box! So here it is... heheh, hahahah!

Let go of it! Get—Get out of my way!

Heh, now we've got the target, we don't need to leave any survivors.

Don't blame me, kid. This is my job—

——

Wha—What the hell is—?!

Grrr...

What is that—hey, is anyone there?! I've run into an unidenti—

(Shrieks)

—Ugh!

Machine... no, creature?! What the hell kind of thing are you?!

Don't get any—why aren't my bolts doing anything—don't get any closer! Any closer and I'll kill you!

(Snickers)

...Mon3tr.

(Responds)

Ah... ah...

......

Elliot, you're safe.

...!

Who... who are you... How do you know me?

I know every last esteemed scientist of the Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute.

But none of you know what kind of plot this whole affair has been drawn into. I'm here to stop you, and here to protect you.

Protect...?

You're already late... too late...

You didn't let your fine teacher's legacy fall into those conspirators' hands. You've done well enough.

......

What do you mean, protect...

—You want to protect these! The blueprint, the sample, not me! And not Teacher!

You're just like them! Teacher's dead! All the people who were helping us are dead too! You're all just fighting over this case—you—you—*cough* *cough*, *cough*—

......

Adviser, we've confirmed three mercenary teams hired by lords ameer across the map, as well as one Sarkaz unit on a cliff outside the town, affiliation unknown for now.

According to our plans, we still have seven minutes.

I've found one survivor, sample in hand.

The evac route is secure.

Converge in three minutes.

......

Tell me, Elliot. The Vouivre soldier you're carrying on your back: what did he die for?

...Shut up...

Right now, you stand here, you live, and you carry what every mercenary here wants.

The squad operated under the name 'Sand Soldiers'... but in actuality, all that came to Sargon was a research team, and a typical security force from Tkaronto.

Whether or not he persisted in his duty until the end, whether or not he paid mind to your safety until the end, didn't he entrust a deep responsibility to you?

Whether or not because of your own immature temperament, are you going to make a total waste of all your soldiers' full efforts?

I only need an answer.

As long as I can ensure that this prototype blueprint doesn't fall into any lord ameer's hands, I will not go out of my way to mind anything else. I hope for you to understand this.

......

High alert. You still aren't willing to speak much.

But I remember... the man on your back is Professor Thorne. Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute, Head Researcher.

He was not a true soldier. Yet a true soldier is what he is.

You...

Just put him down. Or you could be buried together with him in the yellow dust.

I trust he believed his death had a purpose, and you should not squander his sacrifice.

No...

He's already dead.

No! This isn't your business!

At least give him a decent burial.

...Mon3tr.

(Hissing)

What's... What's that ball of light?

Lower your head.

Ngh—!

...You... You want me to bury Teacher in here?

Professor Thorne is an old friend of mine. The situation is abnormal. We have no chance to more solemnly address his sacrifice.

Every person's life is an endless war.

On certain motives, his ancestors left Sargon. Wandering again and again, he found a life he could call his own, yet in the end he returned to Sargon's barrens.

His cause, his just heart, his thirst for knowledge all arrived at their terminus.

The Professor Thorne I knew was in no way unversed in life's affairs. Candidly, he confronted his own death, and until the very end resisted.

Elliot, just put him down.

I...

This is respect for the deceased. Surely you understand, he wouldn't have wished to become a burden on your path?

Okay... okay...

(Ancient Vouivran language) May his soul, with the long river, return.

Vouivran...? Are—Are you from Vouivre?

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he, as the gravel, pass into eternal tranquility.

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he ever hear his homeland's whispers. May he, at the other shore, meet the great waves.

(Ancient Vouivran language) Our friend rests eternal here. He shall return to the boundless cycle of rebirth.

......

...Time is running short. We've paid what respect we can. Now, you must make a choice.

(A low, alert sounding.)

Correct, they are many, but their formation is in loose disarray. As an armed force, they're not in one heart and mind.

Before they find us, they'll make their own grave.

...I remember, now... I remember I saw your face before, somewhere... long ago... Teacher introduced you to me...

I thought you were only a theoretical researcher...

I remember... Your name is...

Kal'tsit...?

Mm.

You have quite a good memory, Elliot.

Adviser.

Confirm retrieval of target, and before any other teams form up and cut us off, pull out of here.

......

...Understood.

This is the op team. Advanced-Ops Adviser has retrieved the 'Sand Soldier' survivor along with target material.

Acknowledged.

Adviser, recon team has ensured the safety of our route.

Alright, then. Let's go.

......

......

......

Uh, Mr. Elliot, please kindly give that case to us.

......!

Adviser?

Leave him be.

Pardon me, but we should confirm whether our objective materials are intact. And ensure 'no matter the circumstances,' they're safe under our grasp.

You think he'll run?

No, of course... alright... understood.

Yes.

Uh, why did we stop?

Seems we broke down.

......

What's wrong? Caster, come take a look.

Couldn't be out of fuel, right... did nobody inspect before we left base? Who was in charge?

J5 from the Stouthammer Squad was on vehicle inspection, but they're all on the recon team. What should we do? Get in touch with them?

Elliot.

Huh?

Keep that case safe, and lower your head.

...What?

What just exploded—woah!

Recon team?! Hey, can you hear us? Tell your Casters to stop! It's us, wait, it's us!

Mon3tr.

Th—That thing in your hand—

(With vigor, it rouses itself.)

No, don't be rash.

Protect this child.

(Responds)

Hhhh—

What—What's happening?! Weren't they with you?! Here to help us?!

Stay alert, Mon3tr.

Agh—

(Dissatisfied)

Dammit! They split as cover to set up the whole goddamn circus...!!

Attention, Riverblade Squad, all members of Riverblade Squad!

The recon team has overtly attacked us, scratching every—clause of the contract! Caster division, ready up! Snipers, confirm bearings, and prepare to attack!

You all copy! The Stouthammer Squad has turned traitor! Fight back, open fire!!

......

In the barrens, escaping an armed motorcade on foot isn't much of a sagacious choice.

Stay here. This is the safest option.

Ugh...

......

Did you plan this, too?

No. War can bring great profit to Columbia, but nobody wants that profit in anyone else's pocket. Dividing up interests isn't just about size, and satisfying everyone is extremely difficult.

As their advanced operations adviser, I've given sufficient counsel.

Including all 'betrayal' possibility.

Right now, there's a war going on outside...

And you're just going to sit in here, unconcerned?

I have to remind you, Elliot, you also sit here, receiving my protection at that.

......

No... it's this box. They don't have the guts to attack us. I'm the one who's your protection, 'Adviser.'

(Discontentedly, it gazes afar.)

I don't intend to retort. They absolutely won't dare destroy an Arts prototype that could convert half of Sargon's rainforests into barrens.

Despite its disguise as... an engine on an all-new power source.

What—What are you going on about...

Adviser! We can't hold out for much longer! We need to pull back immediately, and change course!

Please, bring the survivor with us! We'll ensure your safety!

Understood.

How many withdrew?

Less than twenty. Wretched losses.

......

Let me say again, Captain, scores of our brothers just died.

Thanks to them pulling a heel turn out of their assholes in the middle of an operation! The company's gonna send people to wipe every last one of 'em off the goddamn map!!

I... don't know about that. If the Stouthammers had this planned in advance, I'm worried the company hasn't got the reach into Sargon...

Maybe they made a deal with some lord ameer. Or maybe, they just never...

......

Ugh... the adviser and the kid?

Right over there.

Let me... let me talk with them alone.

Adviser.

Before we entered Sargon, I gave you the heads-up.

......

The military needed to light a fire in Sargon, and then wait for war to bring riches their way.

Factories, mines, the arms trade—every second of its existence, Columbia has been gnawing away at this ancient country, strengthening itself.

So its military pulled a move, brought about the birth of the 'Sand Soldiers,' had them bring scientific researchers into Sargon... to carry out some 'tech support.'

—But the Bureau doesn't take things that way at all.

To be precise, it's the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium and its background desires that don't take things that way.

Perhaps Sargon is a backwards, rotting country to some people's eyes, but its ancient wealth and power still suffices to command servitude of all the dust in its sky, to become the desert under the Empire's gaze.

I have to say, the Bureau's viewpoint is correct.

One portion of Columbia's people has grown narrow-minded with its ballooning riches and power. They mistakenly think they can cause wanton strife in Sargon without paying a price.

Any one Padishah's maneuvering is enough to influence those Columbian entrepreneurs' stock prices, yet they turn a blind eye to Sargon's vast might.

The policymakers are free to be ignorant, and failure in judgment won't harm their core interests, but you yourselves need to know just what it is you're doing.

At least, you should know, this and your life or death are symbiotic.

The Padishahs are the Sargon Empire's chief governors at the core, there to control their lords ameer. Would they... have anything to do with the company?

You know what it is the company wants, correct?

Certain high-ranking members of the military have seized some of Blaine Formative Technologies' principal shareholders, exporting these things to Sargon under unofficial cover in order to fulfill a deal with a lord ameer.

And what they truly desire is to employ these simple, crude methods to set off a power struggle within Ibut. Because that will turn profit.

But the Bureau believes that if the war spreads to the heart of the empire, every 'moneymaking' design will become fly ash.

So, the Bureau wants us to retrieve the target, so as to stop the military brass from going a step too far. That I get, but—

But the military's not stupid. Its spies within the company—perhaps you've already guessed who—have bribed the Stouthammer Squad to ensure the plans will remain in Sargon, and then a certain lord ameer can set off war.

They had the balls?!

Aside from the operation advisers that aren't me, all silently acknowledge this string of activity inside the company.

The Chief of Business has no plans to stand on any side, allowing both parties to hold each other back. It might even bring in bonus grey income, after all.

......

None of this is any kid's business.

I—

Elliot Glover. Only 13 when he skipped a few grades and graduated, soon entering an academy for sciences and taking up studies in Originium technology.

Three years after, this young genius was picked out by Professor Thorne, to become in all respects his personal assistant.

Elliot is a member of the 'Sand Soldiers.' A research team crowned as soldiers who had no idea at all what awaited them in Sargon.

They died tragically in the sandstorm without a single clue about anything, and none of us can deprive their last survivor of learning the complete picture.

Fine, I get it. No skin off my nose.

Now where were we? Oh, yeah, Bureau and the military pressured the company, and then in Sargon, all the lords ameer clashed...

Heheh. We were betrayed from the very beginning. And we jumped into this war knowing scratch all...

Where'd they get the balls to do this shit... Now they've thrown us into the desert like garbage, who can still guarantee things'll go how they want...?

The company never cared about what ultimately ended up in whose hands. Regardless of which of you survived to complete the mission, they'd still pocket a reward.

To be precise, even if you all died right here, it wouldn't affect a single coin that falls into their pockets.

Because the ever-eyeing lords ameer and the Padishahs would've helped you settle and follow up on things otherwise, it's only natural they brought in the chaos.

The moment you were first drawn into Sargon by that enormous reward, you were already cornered.

......

Sorry, Adviser.

You warned us out of the kindness of your heart, and you gave our op everything you had too. I respect you a hell of a lot more than I do those cigar munchers, all making up absolute shit at their meeting tables.

But maybe... we still have one other option. Right now, pull out your arms, Adviser. I hope this decisive battle can preserve some dignity.

You're going to kill her...!

Why not? That's what our original job really was, after all.

Don't lose your head, mercenary. I know you've received secret orders from the Chief of Business, but I also trust you understand that right now, following things to the letter will only cut off your own way out.

Yeah, you've always given me an omniscient kind of impression...

The company sold us out, the Chief of Business sacked us like pawns, the lords ameer, the Padishahs and the Columbian military are all itching to kill us and snatch the goods—

—but we're mercs, and that's just morning coffee to us. As long as I can still make bank, I have no shits to give.

What a pity.

I'm just the smallest fry in this whole whirlwind of crisis, but whether it's in the Bureau's interest or the military's—whatever. All that shit makes me dizzy—

Even the company thinks you shouldn't hang around here any longer, Adviser.

This is a good chance. A good chance to make a senior adviser in Sargon disappear. Some folks paid me a lot of money—heh, and I couldn't say if they were the same who bribed the Stouthammers.

But none of that matters. I just wanna ask you one last thing... You... You've done so much. What was it all for, in the end?

Columbia, Sargon, and perhaps Victoria as well. Uncountable powers all wrapped up in this. And though their lack of foresight led us here, all their innumerable machinations point towards one endgame.

—War.

And war will bring ruin.

I simply try to stop this all from coming, despite how weak my influence is.

......

I... I don't know whether I oughta believe you... Maybe as long as I complete the Chief's orders and kill you, the company'll let us back in...

Who would trust sixteen mercenaries forced to hole up in a cave, a scientist's boy assistant and a mercenary company's operations adviser? Who would willingly sit down with them to discuss where millions of lives are headed?

I'll give you one final heads-up. Even if you make the Chief of Business happy, and make an obstructive adviser vanish in the middle of Sargon, it will not mean you can return home safe.

Every hired hand in these yellow dusts believes you've made off with the final legacy of the 'Sand Soldiers'... and they will make the choice to exterminate a flock of Columbians who offended their lord ameer's graces.

I—

After you kill me, you want to use Elliot as a bargaining chip, but would you have the leeway for a peaceful dialogue?

—No, you're right. I've got no chance of making any kind of 'deal' with the people who just killed my brothers. I don't work with the big picture like that.

Alright. You've convinced me, Adviser. I'll put down my crossbow, and you get that... uh, your pet out of sight a little.

(A low roar, as if to menace.)

How are you going to proceed?

If we keep working together, will you ensure we return to Columbia?

Precisely the opposite. If you truly keep working with me, you will only add to the dangers you face.

But at the least, I can plot a route for you, and help you stow away into Minos. This is the safest path.

'The safest path.' And you're not even gonna go with us?

My goal lies elsewhere.

There's no way you'd say you prepped this route just for us, right?

Don't misunderstand. This is just for those who can get out of here alive, regardless of who they are.

Sounds a little like salvation, huh?

There's a hint of arrogance behind that word. If you have any misgivings, just treat this as a deal.

Alright, alright. Last time I didn't trust you we ended up right in the frying pan. Maybe this time I oughta be a little smarter...

This is a deal, Adviser. I want to use both your lives, to buy the lives of me and the brothers I have left.

Sixteen for two. Very cost-effective.

Damn right. Cost-effective. Hah. You saw this day coming from miles away, didn't you?

Where are we... heading?

Where are we... I... I want to...

There's a local place for dealings, which the local arms dealers and underground Originium goods merchants all call the 'Reefsteep Black Market'.

When we find that market, its stowaways can help us out.

......

What's on your mind?

I'm thinking about... I...

I just... just left Teacher's body... in that makeshift...

I should've... I... the blood, and the screaming... nngh, ulp...

*cough*, *cough* *cough* *cough*—

Adviser's hit the road.

What now?

Here's the map for the route the Adviser gave us. Not just the names of all the towns, but any Messenger stations we can use too. Can you guess how much this map'd be worth alone?

Just where in holy hell did she come from?

Hell knows! But right now, she's the single straw we've got to grab at.

Tear up all identifying marks. Can't keep using these Columbian cars anymore. We'll head to the closest city on foot. Should be about thirty kilometers, then we'll rent a new ride and get out of here.

And we escape just like that?

I know what you're thinking... but we still aren't ready for payback. We'll hide out for a bit. Then we can go back, deal with all those traitors companyside—

—Who's there?!

Heh.

So you let the 'Sand Soldier' go... Now there's a twist.

—Enemy raid! Snipers, rea—

Leave three alive. Get the casters ready to grill them.

Deal with all the rest.

......

Have you calmed down some?

Counting researchers, the 'Sand Soldiers' were on the scale of a hundred people when they left Tkaronto.

You just experienced a massacre. This may be difficult, but you need to return to form as soon as possible.

Just what... do you intend to do?

Retrieve the Arts prototype plans in your embrace. Assuming no mishaps, there should also still be an Originium crystal sample in there.

Ngh...!

This will only delay the outbreak of war, but it will give us enough time. Enough to afford a few of my colleagues in Columbia the chance to try and change course.

You hardly even know what that case could unleash.

You can't! What kind of sick joke?! This is everything the Institute worked for!

Whether you trust me or not, I know full well just how important, how weighty, results paid for with countless lives are to a theoretical scientist.

But I also know, if this thing termed an 'Advanced Originium-Powered Arts Conversion Device' is given different application, the sheer harm it can bring about.

Ugh...

Many were aware of this. Naturally, this included your teacher.

Y-You don't mean to say Teacher knew we were doing wrong?!

How dare you suggest—

So this is Sargon! Ah, a time-old charm of a country... look around here, at the heart of the wild-grown desert, no dependence on nomadic cities, still so full of life!

It is, Teacher.

Hm? Elliot, your mind's wandering. Come here, let me brush that gravel off your head.

Ah... th-thank you, Teacher.

Teacher, if you were this caring of the women who tried to woo you, I don't think your family would urge you so hard to get married.

Haha. Don't poke your teacher where it hurts, or else you'll be assigned to double next month's experiments.

Ugh...

......

Teacher?

Ah, not much, just something that popped into my head. The mountain range at the end of the barrenlands, and the rainforest on the other side, must both be bursting with life too in their own ways, totally unlike the barrens we're in.

In that rainforest... could there reside people just as unlike those here? What kind of life do they lead, then? How does it fare?

The rainforest? Why all the sudden thought, Teacher?

......

Elliot. We believe our undertakings are for the benefit of ever more of humanity, for those still without the blessings of Originium technology.

But at times, the fruits of our research may not be implemented as we intended. Perhaps from the start, we choose a path wrong, excessively wrong, and when we realize it, we are powerless to redeem.

Huh?

Haha. Just supposing, provided a day like that dawned—

—We'd have to try and stop this all in its tracks.

——

Mr... Thorne, he...

I... No, it can't be, he was deceived... he...

Thorne's research had been rigged from the start.

The capital bounced around to land in his hands, disguised as an exciting investment in the new energy market, perfectly unscrupulous, giving nobody any doubts.

I'd warned him before. But perhaps the experiments' success and advancement made him put his own misgivings aside.

——

No one is perfect, Elliot, but your labors will not become a catalyst of conflict and death. I came here to ensure that, and I need your assistance.

Right. You have five minutes to gather your thoughts, and then we'll leave.

Huh?

You want me to go with you?

You'd only die in the barrens otherwise. I won't deny your gift for the mathematical and applied Originium fields, but you don't have even the first idea what vegetation can offer you any moisture content.

I don't want the last young one who knows the truth to senselessly pass away in front of me.

Of course, if you feel your calling is at its end, that you have no need to press onward, I can arrange for your refuge in the Sargon countryside.

......

Just... Just who in the world are you? Why do you speak of everything so... downplayed?

I'm presently an Advanced Operations Adviser and Arts Instructor for the Westin Security Company, Columbia... If I have to repeat myself once more to you.

I am Kal'tsit.

Kal'tsit. Kal'tsit.

Hm... look at this contract...

What a beautiful signature it is.