BP-5 Lethal Fate

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......

Do you need my help, Mr. Avitus?

Oh, no. I was merely observing this abandoned Little Handy.

Abandoned...? By who?

Don't worry, that's not important. What brings you here, Jordi?

I'm hoping to find something to do. We're clearly in dire straits, and I'm sure this city is full of problems in need of solving. They just won't reveal themselves to me.

Generally speaking, in that situation you should go to the Institute of Development Planning for an assessment.

However, if you were looking for me specifically, I'll try my best to help you out.

You're a highly experienced and respected scholar, after all, and many in the city call you Magister.

Magister? My last work was 'The Death of Life,' a book with no educational value whatsoever.

I-I read it, actually. Although I couldn't understand much, with so many cryptic words. Like starship, stargate... it seemed like from another world.

'Another world.' Hah, you're right about that.

But I find myself undeserving of the title Magister. Often times I find myself lost in confusion.

Jordi, do you remember when I told you that blood ties were unimportant?

I do, but I already...

I may have been a bit misleading. While we indeed care little for blood relations, 'relationships' themselves are an excellent lead to follow.

When one is lost, one ought to find a connection to reality—be it a life or an ideal—and seek a way out.

Otherwise you'll end up like me, sinking into an extended questioning of the value of your own existence.

If I may be so bold, can I ask whatyour own 'relationship' is...?

My Familiar.

How, exactly...?

She shared the same thoughts and goals, and would enrich both my spirit and my ideas. I loved her as ardently as I loved Ægir, as well as everything we've done for it.

I live a life surrounded by mountains of prehistoric material written in their strange script and incomprehensible grammar... I enjoy the process of translating it into Ægirian text.

That was how we met, and I still remember how she'd throw herself into her work... Her eyebrows seemed to dance whenever she talked about something of interest to her.

And when I told her so, in those exact words, she actually went to the Institute of Physical Art to find out if eyebrows could dance for real.

What a strange form of art... Did they manage it?

Strictly speaking, no. But some of their researchers were inspired to later develop the technology to make hair dance on its own.

We've experienced the catastrophe that silenced the entire sea, and the Seaborn continue to threaten our existence, but we remain committed to exploring science, art, and our vision for the future.

Lava bridges that pump power from the planet's mantle, aquatic artery hubs that transform currents into fountains, artificial suns illuminating the depths of the oceanic abyss, and ecological bases filling the barren seafloor with life...

We persist in transforming what the Predecessors lost into mystical megastructures. We need only a spark to spur on countless inventions.

One hundred fifty years is truly too short.

One hundred and fifty years?

Yes, the average lifespan of an Ægir.

'Short,' you say...

The more dangerous the era, the more valuable our creations become.

We firmly believed in living fulfilling lives, and would gladly have gone to our end without regrets as we passed down the fire of civilization.

We planned an educational system we believed was better than the Institute of Incubation.

Once our child was born via the incubator, we would raise them ourselves. They would possess a surging spirit and fresh ideologies, and become part of a more creative generation.

It is unusual to raise children personally, but we had hoped to pass on the values we treasured from the fulfilling lives we'd lived.

So, what happened to her?

Dead.

......

Remember the Predecessor mentioned in 'The Death of Life'?

He took shelter in an unknown refuge as he watched the sky pressing down on the earth every day. He already had a premonition of his own end.

There was nothing he could do but calmly welcome its advent.

But that's someone else's life, a life far too distant from ours.

Is it, though? Are we not currently going through the same things?

Give it fifty years, maybe a hundred, and even the vast ocean may no longer hold a single drop of pure water.

......

The Seaborn have unwittingly overrun the ocean faster than we can create, devouring what we were once proud of, turning 'survival' into our only priority.

I watched as she was engulfed by despair. One day, she calmly gave up on our idea of raising our child ourselves.

After all, everything we have inherited would only be lost in an era predestined to perish.

Five years ago, the Abyssal Hunters went to the lair of the Firstborn, and no one returned alive.

Soon after, she got sick, and died in depression. Our son was successfully born in the incubator, but I sent him to the Institute of Incubation.

This was also when I began questioning the meaning of my own existence.

My apologies, Jordi. I was supposed to be providing you guidance, wasn't I? I've already severed my relationship with the real world, but perhaps you have someone or something you still have ties with?

But I gave up chasing Breogan long ago. I can't waste even more time chasing an unreachable shadow.

Maybe... Maybe I could delve into the notes he left, and learn how he developed his tech. And not just because I might be his descendant.

...But because you also have talent and dreams in that field.

You can try the beacon tower, then. Breogan was involved in its reconstruction, so if you're familiar with his handiwork, perhaps you could help them out.

Every Ægir leaves their own quirks in their writings, theories, or technologies, so sometimes all you need to sort out a trickier part is someone more familiar with the author.

Thank you, Mr. Avitus!

Advisor Blandus? Are you alright?

Of course, of course.

The cultists failed to stop me from performing the surgery on the Hunters.

I'm asking about your physical condition.

Thanks, Secunda. I see you're still—

Given your strange aversion to medical aid, someone has to confirm you're alright.

Although judging from your condition, I'm guessing I'm not the first to try sending you to the hospital.

Perhaps the Waterway Program is too overwhelming. I'm something of a doctor myself, so I do know how to keep myself healthy—healthy enough to not slow down the program, anyway.

......

......

You know, you should take a look at the plant the cultists were using to kill people. It's difficult to imagine someone at the Institute of Ecological Art using it as paint.

Well, seeing how you're not in any immediate danger, I'll need you to cooperate with my investigation.

I saw Ulpianus. Recently.

......

I see you have too.

Only briefly, at the Sophontheatrum.

And you didn't report this?

Catching a momentary glimpse of a familiar figure is hardly worth reporting.

I'm not joking around, Advisor Blandus.

The data scientist's case has been confirmed to be a murder by the cultists, and it may be related to the assault on the lab.

Ulpianus seemed to know the victim well, and openly expressed his distrust of Ægir.

He's always been like that. More action than words, and ever unwilling to reveal his reasons.

His unique style doesn't explain all the doubts about him. I still need to check if he's linked to several Church cases.

*sigh* Secunda, do you really lack any other leads or suspects more worthy of investigation?

Or I should ask, is this obsession with Ulpianus merely your own whim?

......

*sigh*

Secunda, I'm the one who rejected your application back then.

What did you just say?

I said, it was me who rejected your application to volunteer to become an Abyssal Hunter.

Ulpianus concurred, but I was the one who officially rejected you.

...Why?

I saw your documents from the Institute of Development Planning. You'd written 'genetic research' in the box asking for your aspirations.

You only had to look at another file to see that becoming a Hunter was one another of my aspirations.

We considered you extremely talented, even among the participants of the Abyssal Hunter project.

During our technical discussions, you were the only one to ask Ulpianus ten questions in a row and get answers for all of them. The highest record for a freshman researcher.

The early transformation techniques were dangerous and unreliable. We were always searching for a better integration method. It was ultimately your theories that advanced the program's technology.

I considered it an honor back then, at least.

But the program itself is nothing to be proud of, Secunda.

The concept was born nearly two centuries ago, a far cry from the average citizen's impression today. It was only twenty-some years ago that Ulpianus made it into a reality.

In the hundred plus years before that, it was never afforded any systematic scrutiny or research. Only endless debates.

To exploit our countrymen and integrate the flesh of other species into ourselves to save our humanity was tantamount to toppling the very foundations of Ægir.

But Ulpianus is a decisive man. He can abandon his research, ideals, emotions, and even his humanity without a shred of hesitation. The sole principle he abides by is 'To benefit Ægir.'

And perhaps he will save Ægir someday, but our country should not be founded upon boundless self-sacrifice.

Ulpianus understands better than anyone that his very existence is actually his country's woe.

And so, 'The Abyssal Hunters do not need a second Ulpianus. Ægir should not have a second Ulpianus.'

'There should be no one in Ægir who wishes to become another.'

...I could practically hear him saying him.

I once joked to him how much better it would be if you were my student instead. Perhaps you could continue the research he and I used to work on: 'The evolution of Ægir cells.' Or perhaps you'd start a new field entirely.

You could have become one of the leading scientists of our time, with the opportunity to explore the primordial mysteries of all existence and lead us into the future.

Blandus, the two of you had no right.

I'm sorry, Secunda.

Did you start reminiscing about the old days just to tell me I shouldn't bear a grudge against Ulpianus?

I did it so you'd see him in a new light.

Being too eager to capture him will do neither of you any good.

Aren't there cultists ready and available for questioning? Don't forget your duties, Secunda.

Where are they?

The first floor. In a booth in the equipment administration room. Do you need me to show you the way?

I know where it is. The Sea Patrol will take over the detainment of the criminals.

......

I'm so sorry, but you can't go any further. We're currently—

Wait, didn't I see you at the tribunal?

I know who you are, the emissary from land. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly are your duties on this diplomatic mission?

The data scientist seemed to have completely transformed into a Seaborn by the time she was found.

It would be difficult to obtain any further information from her, other than the fact that this set of data seems related to the 'Waterway' and the 'Beacons.'

I've finished analyzing the contents: there are unusual data interactions between the beacon within the city and the ones deployed in the nests.

The signals come from many spots within the city, and I have already inspected the port hub and any possible ships.

The only remaining location is Lab C-22. One of the earliest Abyssal Hunter experimental research labs.

However, it is far livelier here than I can remember it ever being.

Secunda has even deployed a garrison in the name of protecting Blandus.

A hindrance.

I can manage the Sea Patrol for now.

You should focus on the toughest target.

You would be... the Doctor of Rhodes Island, yes?

You say your institution helped diagnose and treat Oripathy in our Hunters, and now you hope to assist me with their organic regeneration surgery?

Then you can leave with peace of mind.

The Church's assault here was just a minor episode, and the Hunters have already returned to their hibernation.

I'll be constantly monitoring their physical condition, so your gaze—no matter how vigilant it may be—will be of little use in their recovery.

...I see they have developed a deep friendship with you while wandering about on land.

Insist all you want, it doesn't change the fact that you will be of no help during the operation.

I mean no offense.

This place was just recently raided, so please return to where you came from, for your own safety.

Of course, of course.

I see you really want to stay. I won’t force you to leave, either. It seems you really do care for the Hunters, and I like people like you.

Little Handy, the Doctor is unfamiliar with the equipment in Ægir, so keep an eye on things.

Understood.

Doctor, as long as you don't touch anything you shouldn't, then—

The corridor's monitoring unit just beeped. Someone's looking in here.

Another beep for the experimental cabin in front and the corner further ahead... Hmm? There seems to be some sort of pattern.

Someone in the control room is rapidly switching the order of the holograms back and forth.

...Doctor? What are you trying to tell me?

This way, then.

The operation is complete, Doctor. Thank you for your... fast and furious cooperation.

The Hunters will need another ten minutes to awaken, but I guarantee the procedure went without a hitch.

So if you could now leave—

They were unable to get any proper rest on land, despite what I'm sure was the best possible accommodation from you and Rhodes Island.

Even now, they've just only arrived home, yet now must rush back to the frontlines.

A single operation and hibernation session is far from enough to restore them to full strength.

I wouldn't say so, even if I've fulfilled my duties. There is a fundamental difference between the two, after all.

I believe you mentioned your expertise in the field of Oripathy?

Could you tell me what it's like, to be a patient?

'Fate'?

Interesting. The ancient sages once discussed the concept of 'fate,' but it's been a long time since anyone has brought it up.

You see, Oripathy does not exist in the ocean, and most other diseases we managed to cure.

We all choose our own paths in life, and the trajectory of our civilization is ours to define.

For the longest time, we have forgotten what 'fate' even is.

Yet now, the ineradicable disease we've engraved into our Hunters' blood cannot be dealt with medically.

To borrow your concept, one may call such an problem 'fate.'

Each of the Hunters held their own dreams, their own lives. But now? They have no choice but to live alongside slaughter until they die themselves.

I've tried many methods to bring them back from this dead end, all to no avail.

Even now...

They seem to be in a hurry.

...I should get going too.

It has been an honor to speak with you, Doctor. I hope you can take good care of them, if given the chance.

Sea Patrol. Here to interrogate me?

'Interrogate.' Ha. I never thought I'd have anything to do with that word.

You should have thought of that when you intruded on the lab.

What about before then? What makes you and I so different?

Why 'interrogate' me? What have I done to deserve being 'questioned'?

At times like these, I feel like our methods are too gentle.

According to our envoy from Iberia, they're more than happy to incorporate punishment into the process.

.....

So if you're finished talking nonsense, state your identity.

I'm a former road-side coral breeder.

Motive?

You ever paid close attention to the coral by the road, Patroller?

We hoped every cluster on every street would take on a different form or color, even different capabilities.

Transport tubes pass through the cavity-filled cluster on the east side of the Sophontheatrum, and under the glimmering tubes, the polyps glimmer back. A patchwork of dots of light...

Like a nebula in miniature.

Then there's the ones around the port—

As it happens, I have been paying close attention to some road-side coral recently. Specifically, the ones growing in your experimental field.

Where an innocent data scientist died.

.....

Her dreams, her obsession, her love for her seaweeds... were as beautiful as the coral you speak of.

But you murdered her.

You asked a good question earlier. What makes you and her so different?

So why are you still alive? What did she do to deserve death?

She found...

Found what? Speak up.

Or are you implying I should be asking Cassia this question?

You...

What is the Church planning against the Waterway Program?

Will you be attacking the beacon, or the weapons?

Speak.

*sigh* Church this, cultist that.

I'm still not used to being called names like that. You sure they're not just convenient excuses for you to arrest people?

.....

This so-called 'Church' and its 'cultists.' What part of them is 'holy,' exactly?

I don't worship any kind of imaginary entity. I just agree with how Cassia sees things.

From the despair engulfing Ægir, she can see this nation's fragile nature.

People place too much importance on the value of things, but are unwilling to recognize how fickle these values really are. They've become worshipers at their altar.

But now, those values are crumbling away. Before Ægir falls completely into despair, someone must sound the alarm—

Perii! You're just trying to loosen my lips!

You won't get another word out of me. If you're feeling impatient, go ahead, scan my brainwaves. You won't get anything out of that either—

Questioning you is the last respect I'll give you as a human being, scumbag!

Maybe you believe yourself innocent, and your actions free of conspiracy. But you will tell me everything I want to know.

Now speak.

Captain.

It's almost time for us to leave, Skadi.

I know it's urgent.

The frontline is barely holding ground against the Seaborn. The loss of two entire fleets is really hitting us hard now.

According to their most recent missive, Legions VIII and X failed to regroup into formation, and they are now mired in a bitter struggle.

If the beacon cannot be deployed at the designated position within the nest, and the deadlock continues... it will mean the failure of the Waterway Program.

Understood.

The Legion fleets are about to launch an offensive across the entire front, at all costs. All to attract the Seaborn's attention. As for us—

Squeeze through the battlefield, infiltrate the nest, and deploy the beacon.

Correct. How would you rate your current condition, Skadi?

I got some good sleep, at least. My first dreamless sleep since our last campaign.

The situation in the city is getting more restive... Do you know where the Doctor has gone?

(Shakes head)

I know you want me to keep the peace and protect the Doctor, Captain... You want me to stay.

To be honest, I am conflicted.

Cleansing the sea of its dregs is our duty, but I am also responsible for your safety.

Have there been any signs of Ishar'mla stirring since we returned to sea?

If it has, it's been real quiet.

If it speaks up, I'll shut it up.

Actually, I've got something to say to you, Captain.

We've never been this cautious in our work before. We had our ways of handling this sort of thing.

If the Church's god—the one the scum call 'Ishar'mla'—really is inside me, then if I ever go out of control, I want you to execute me on the spot. Simple as that.

My heart's right here. I trust you won't miss.

Skadi—

I'm not finished.

If you or Shark start to fall under their influence in battle before I do, I won't hesitate either.

.....

What I was going to say is that, with war close at hand, I can imagine nothing more reassuring to hear.

Let's go.

.....

Miss Laurentina.

No need for that dreary honorific, little bird. We're not strangers, are we?

...Laurentina.

Considering how long we've been in this city, I'm surprised this is the first time we've run into one another. This is sad.

I've always wanted to take our brave little warrior out on a real hunt in the depths. Sadly, the nest we're headed to is too far and too deep. No way to bring you along.

It's alright. Even if I had the option, I'd stay in Milliarium regardless.

Oh?

There's been a lot happening in the city lately.

The first time I wore deep-water equipment and entered the ocean, I was immediately knocked about by the current. I hate to admit it, but I'd be dead weight out there.

No need to talk like that. The first time is always rough.

Anyway, I can do a lot more in the city than in that nest.

And once you've completed your mission and Ægir's weapon systems start cleansing the area, I'll have to return to Saint Carmen and make an urgent report on why the sea surface has changed.

Ah, so you meant we were to be parted once more.

That's right.

I'd be offering you all farewell gifts, but I wasn't expecting this before we left for Milliarium, so I have nothing to give.

Don't worry about it. We'll meet again.

While we won't be needing to drag you from the sea half-drowned this time, I have a feeling our next reunion will be unforgettable in its own right.

*cough*! ...Oh, look, Skadi and Gladiia are coming!

Take care of yourself, Laurentina.

Finished with your chat?

Yes.

It's past time we left, Hunters.

Doctor.

Yes. You've been of great assistance.

As previously mentioned, there are unusual data interactions between the beacon within the city and the ones deployed in the nests.

It seems the bulk of the work was handled by Lab C-22. Namely, the facility we just infiltrated.

While I do not fully understand the principles behind the beacon system or the Class IV weapons, the contents of these interactions can still be inferred.

The coordination between the beacons and the weapons has been altered.

As I surmised, the Waterway Program has been infiltrated at the highest level.

Correct.

Even before it was conceived, I had my doubts about Ægir.

...That decisive campaign.

...So you already know.

Skadi trusts you more than expected.

My dereliction was due to a moment of distraction.

In a cave, or rather, a cavity closest to Ishar'mla's core, I noticed something that should not be there.

Crude piles of meat, turbid mucus. At first, I assumed they were nodules of its body, but then I saw clearly the measuring scales and flow channels around them...

A corroded water flow meter.

One from Ægir. A design hundreds of years old, one that now exists only in museums.

Based on the degradation, it had sat within Ishar'mla's body for two centuries.

But I had been told that no other Ægir had ever managed to reach the Firstborn before us.

That is to say, before Ægir was even aware of it, its people had secretly come into contact with the Firstborn.

The undercurrents beneath tranquil Ægir are more turbulent than anyone could imagine.

They are being used to break the deadlock at the front.

I can imagine the mission they have been assigned. Bypass the front lines, advance to the nest, and deploy the beacon.

.....

Blandus.

Then I fear we, too, must act as quickly as possible.

If the coordination between the beacons and weapons has been tampered with, then there is only one place to go: the core of the Waterway Program. The beacon launcher.

As for you...