MT-10 Birth

...

Halos can transfer this much information this quickly?

Neither medical texts nor ancient scripture have ever described this phenomenon. From antiquity, halos have only ever transferred simple emotions through the process we call empathy.

Why is that?

Andoain, according to this machine—or rather, the Law—you cannot handle any further information.

And your prior overuse of Originium Arts has already had an adverse effect on your body.

You are to stop attempting to access the machine immediately, before you cause permanent damage to yourself.

More information...?

No, I still haven't seen anything. I still don't know anything!

But this should not be... Why?

These past ten years, all this suffering, all these sins... Was it all just to meet with a silent god?!

I can't stop here, Federico.

...The child.

Is this yet another dream?

It's not. The Law would not construct a dreamscape for you alone.

Federico chose to communicate with the Law in its own language, while you cannot understand it, nor are you willing to accept such an impersonal tongue.

It is you who, word by word, line by line, 'translated' this language into what we see now.

If this is not a dream, then why... are you still alive?

Because you wanted me to live, Nurturer.

I set off that bomb myself... You were there.

Not only did you want me to live, you had great expectations of me.

You hoped I would live a happy life. You hoped I would break through the dome of the Shrine of Nurtury, that I would fly up and touch the sky.

You hoped to see my feathers shine in the sunlight, to see my talons clasp frolicking musbeasts.

You looked up the tallest tree in Terra on the intercity net, didn't you? You thought that, since I'm an arborbeast, I would much rather climb a real tree than comfort bells.

I did. Atop the mountains of Sami and amidst the forests of Bolívar, there are great trees straight out of legend, stouter than the Tower of Revelations, taller than the Basilica...

I really did think about bringing you to see them. On the net, I saw other arborbeasts up in the canopy crying out to the sun.

I wanted to see you cry out in carefree joy, just like them.

Hmm, where did things go wrong from there?

When did you stop treating me as a real life?

You know, don't you?

The funeral. My mother's funeral.

No matter. Come with me. This time, we shall leave behind no regrets.

What do you mean? Is the funeral still going on?

The funeral shall never end.

He is unresponsive.

Is he suffering from the same condition as the Pope?

...

I still have doubts.

The ultimate purpose of the Law is to grant halos to all organic and inorganic matter, this I know.

But choosing the Summit of Nations as the method of achieving this... Is this the decree of the Law?

It's far too inefficient, and its feasibility is questionable.

The Summit was meant to found a Terra-wide religion, something unprecedented in the civilized history of this land. Mere proposals, negotiations and revelations of 'miracles' will be insufficient to achieve this.

Not to mention that according to the information I just received, the moment the very first Sankta received their halos, they abandoned their Teekaz mission without the slightest hesitation.

If my understanding of the halo is correct, bestowing one on an individual is completely unrelated to their faith?

The Summit of Nations, the Nativity... These may both be based on an unnecessary precondition.

I must confirm, what is the true nature of the halo?

And what is the Law, or rather, your self-designation of 'PCS'?

That confirms it. My understanding is correct.

Since the Law is able to synchronize personalities and knowledge—

Why not simply synchronize everything directly?

'Convention'. A form of regulation.

Is the Law restricted by any other regulations?

Who established this convention? What mechanism ensures it is followed?

A regulation that nobody can enforce is pointless.

A Law unrestricted by this regulation should be able to ignore principles and break taboos.

Which means I still require an answer. Why were halos used only for empathy before all this?

The answer I obtained earlier was that a majority of humans, rationally, are unable to withstand the direct transmission of information via halo.

But using emotion as the vector of information transfer is even more vague and inefficient, while also being greater burden on the receiver.

Is there a possibility that the issue isn't people lacking the ability to receive information, but rather...?

But rather that emotion blocks their ability to process this information?

If the Law that regulates everyone is a system, a machine... Why does He choose to retain humanity's emotions?

Why... retain our humanity?

We've been walking a very long time now.

We've only just started. Normally, a man would hope for his journey to be a little longer.

But nothing's changing as we walk.

Patience, you'll be seeing something familiar very soon.

That coffin... I've seen it before.

A Sarkaz they called hero was buried in it.

I've told many people this story. I still remember... that he gave up his life to save everyone in town.

Even though before he did so, he was a dirty, filthy drunkard, spurned by all.

You didn't stay in that village for very long. You never knew that whenever he drank, he would go about the houses in turn, vomiting over their doors, all while never paying his debts.

Even if he had borrowed the life savings of others. People would scream things like 'moron' and 'lowlife' at him, but in his eyes, he was getting off lightly.

When you told this story to the children, did you ever wonder why he so abruptly decided to do such a noble deed that night, a deed the likes of which he had never done before in his entire life?

I never figured out why.

Perhaps he had undergone an endless bout of inner struggle and self-questioning, or maybe it was just the urge for a bit of goodwill he couldn't shake.

All I know is that he didn't do it to be a hero.

He died, after all. It doesn't matter if we sing his praises, look at him with scorn, or even forget about him. None of that changes anything about him anymore.

Those only have meaning for the living.

True. Good or bad, reputation is beyond the care of the dead.

But isn't the process of going to your death also a part of life?

Those who do not fear death can do the most hideous things.

During their most carefree of days, rare is the man who will stop to examine himself, for his eyes are fixated on a future filled with limitless possibility.

But there will come a day that the fog of death ambushes him, a fog that cannot be thrown off no matter how he struggles.

And there will come a day that he will, in exhaustion, accept the fact that the remainder of his time will be his journey to the afterlife.

From that moment onwards, to live is to approach death.

That rainy night, that dirty, filthy Sarkaz drunkard... When he saw that coffin atop the cart, and the figure at the town gates...

He knew that was his one and only chance to approach death with some dignity. To him, it was not vanity, but relief.

Perhaps so, but...

There are always people who do not look towards their deaths.

Are there? Not you, at the very least.

Otherwise, you would not value a funeral so.

You once told me in all earnestness that my mother gave the last of her strength to me. You cared if she died with love in her heart.

You went out of your way to arrange a funeral for her at the Ecclesia Requietum. You cared if she received a proper burial.

You even cared if we were feeling sad enough at her funeral.

How could you not care about how you will face your own death?

I have my path to walk. I've never thought about when death will come for me, or how I should greet it as I follow my path.

Because you still believe your path has meaning.

This... This is that revelation!

Through the spiritual light, even the darkest stain can be cleansed. With a pious heart, even a savage monster can wade out of the mud.

They have no halos above their heads, yet they still walk towards a future where all can be saved!

I must go! I must see what road they follow!

But you're about to go to the funeral with me, aren't you?

You want to make up for past regrets, right past wrongs, to look upon me as truly alive once again, to give me the happy life I deserve.

Is that not so?

I...

But you said the funeral will never end. If it's just a momentary distraction...

I must go...

No need to explain yourself.

This is how you've always been. Always losing yourself in the search, always eager to sacrifice.

So go, go see what you're searching for truly is.

...Keph?

That's Keph?! Why...?

Keph, a Lateran name meaning 'hollow stone' or 'stone-bound law'.

The First Saint of Laterano, who named herself after her encounter with the Law.

However, this ancient name she gave herself has been buried deep within the annals of history, alongside her true face.

So the future I worked so hard to find, that future where all are saved...

Was just a past deliberately buried... It was just the road we came in on?!

Always losing yourself in the search, always eager to sacrifice...

It did not stop at sacrificing yourself. You sacrificed Lemuen. You sacrificed Mostima and Fiammetta. You sacrificed your brothers and sisters of the Pathfinders. You sacrificed me.

And all this time, you never even knew where this path paved with sacrifice led...

All you had was blind faith.

Tell me, Nurturer. Do you want to save everyone, or do you think only of consoling yourself?

...

A similar tale to that Sarkaz drunkard, isn't it? Your so-called 'path' is merely your one and only chance to approach death with some dignity.

You think only of saving yourself.

No matter. I can offer you even greater salvation.

Look. We've arrived at the burial ground.

This place is kinda scary, Doctor.

I tried to reconnect to the machine, but all the ports have been blocked.

We can infer that she still possesses some degree of control over our current predicament.

Sorry, Doctor, I'm just as confused as you are.

I followed your guidance, and checked a few potential places to slip away from... They're all no-gos.

This is different from the dream that machine made...

Basically, we're trapped.

Hmm...

Is there the possibility, Doctor... that she can't do anything to us—

Do you see these ever-changing buildings around us?

The city known as Laterano is currently experiencing dramatic upheaval, and traces of the damage it has taken will occasionally be mapped onto here.

Changes in information in reality should not be overwriting data inside Originium. This plan still has flaws.

I see there's still a great deal of misunderstanding between us, Doctor.

I believe I can now answer your prior questions. The ones pertaining to the precious results we managed to obtain, alongside the shared vision pieced together by we countless many.

Right now, under my instructions, PCS is reaching its theoretical operational capacity.

This means it is able to include even more targets in the same language system, far beyond an army or a research team... but rather, a multitude of races.

Through this, connections can be strengthened. Barriers can be broken. Differences can be eliminated.

That's not such a bad thing. Not the Sankta, not for all life on Terra.

I can't deny that... though we would benefit as well, of course.

I didn't calibrate PCS to churn out soldiers or scientists we can order about.

Such a plan would collapse at the slightest hint of true disaster. Originium is our only solution.

Needlessly complex biological information will only serve to slow its progress, but PCS has the ability to unify the races into an integrated whole.

It can merge the countless lives of Terra into a singular race, who will pave the way for the expansion of Originium.

As for whether this unified race can still be considered 'Sankta', I don't particularly care.

It seems PCS is rather set on this outcome, going so far as to autonomously perform many unnecessary inferences for it to come to pass.

It should not have this degree of independence. Perhaps a side effect of the sudden increase in throughput, or an abnormality caused by its long period of disuse...

If we have the chance, we can spend some time looking into it as a fun diversion... but not right now.

I-I... really don't think she's hiding anything, Doctor.

Hiding?

Rather than allowing you to fool around and break my samples, Doctor, I think it would be better if I showed you around personally, just like old times.

None of this will stop, Doctor

Aren't you interested to see the ultimate outcome?

Something's wrong, Doctor. I recorded the route we followed to come here...

From the Shrine of Nurtury to the Tower of Revelations, then on to the Notarial Hall in Pagus Michaelion, which means the Sunset Chapel is up ahead—

And then there's those unusual scenes of destruction around us. They keep being mapped onto here, which means the chaos in Laterano is still ongoing.

You should be able to clear your thoughts this way, in a safer manner.

The place you seek is ahead. The location of PCS...

As well of the destination of the 'Sankta' pilgrims—

The countdown has begun, Doctor.

Seriously, not even time for a breather?

Keep it quick, Fiammetta.

I'll cover you while you're reloading.

...

What's with the look? We've fought together before. It's not easy to forget how you do things.

Gratias.

Hey, Mostima, mind explaining to me what the hell just happened?

I was kicking a monster's ass when I stepped in one of those weird light puddles on accident, and...

Stolide! My boot sprouted a halo outta nowhere!

It's one of the Shrine of Nurtury's projections. If you don't feel like being turned into stuff your brain can't even process, then stay away from it!

And how're we supposed to do that...?

It's spreading way too quick. It'll kick us out of Pagus Saint Marcel before that pack of monsters even gets here...

None of us can stick around to play defense at that point!

We've stuffed the big pipe organ in the Sunset Chapel full of explosives. Our friends from Leithanien added some self-igniting enchantment on top of it.

Even if nobody's around, it should still be able to blow these freaks to kingdom come.

The one they used to play the dirge for the city-wide memorial service?

That's the one.

Sweet. It's had to listen to hundreds of years worth of prayers and sobbing. It's time we play it something with a bit more pep.

Let's get out of here, Patia. Our spent shells have started getting halos.

The Tower of Revelations in Pagus Ecclesia and the Notarial Hall in Pagus Michaelion have been lost. The Sunset Chapel in Pagus Saint Marcel is the last stop before they reach the Basilica.

If our bombs don't stop them, then we really are screwed.

Hah, if Federico and Andoain were right, and the procession really is headed for the Basilica... I think it's too early to throw in the towel.

I've been a Legatus for a long time now, so I've got experience with getting places quickly.

If we can't stop them from rushing right over, then...

Why not just remove their destination?

Look, Mostima, there's a big difference between blowing up a pipe organ and incinerating the entire Basilica!

Hey, if boots and Sankta can both have halos, I don't think there's that big a difference between the organ and the Basilica.

...

Fine, you're right. Since we can't block or kill that giant monster, we can at least think of a way to make the road not exist anymore. She'll never be able to reach her destination.

You sure we're talking about the same thing here?

Let's go! Withdraw to the plaza in front of the Basilica!

*sniffle*... *sob*...

Wh-What's wrong, Romya?

Stop crying! You're giving me a headache!

Don't be like that, Hugo.

Why do we need to take care of these crybabies, Sister?

Can we leave Laterano? This place isn't anything like what Aurela said...

Not as nice, right?

Yeah!

I think so too.

So we should be glad we came to see for ourselves. Otherwise, how would we have known Aurela lied to us?

We were rather lucky this time, weren't we? Once Aurela comes back, we should give her a good talking-to!

R-Right, Sister.

Let's continue with the story, children.

(Shakes head) I-I'm scared...

No need to be afraid. Listen. We can still hear the bells, right? The bells of the holy city will protect us.

*sobs* ...But those sounds are so loud and scary.

Hugo, Giselle, do you hear them as well?

(Shake heads)

(Is it empathy? That monster's empathy, the procession's empathy, an entire city's worth of empathy...)

(We're so far away, and yet...)

East of the east of La Unidad♪

Laterano, holy city of white♪

Romya, i-it's a hymn...

Senior Nurturer taught it to us...

Sister Nueda?

You all know the words, right?

There, the earth hides no bombs♪

There, the fields share wheat most bright♪

...

All shall bask in His love♪

R-Reverend?

I can ask our blessed companions to sniff out her position.

There was a time when, with her gun-knight armor and custom rifle, she would break the guardian gun kill record over and over. Finding her will take time.

The procession can't wait, Velliv. Focus on your work. I'll handle this myself.

...

It's been ten years. I'm surprised this private frequency still works.

I wanted to ask the folks at the Notarial Hall to delete it a long time ago, but I keep forgetting. Guess I've gotten old, haha.

The real surprise is you, Aurela. Why didn't you take off your armor when you left Laterano?

Without it, how am I supposed to settle things with you... Magister?

*sigh* You really hate me, don't you?

It seems the saint was right. The best motivators for the errari to return to the holy city are hatred and loathing.

Heh.

So you're saying this mysterious 'Fall' that affected all of Terra brought out their bad side?

That might be so for others, but for me... You know better than anyone else.

Naturally.

I will never forget what you did to me.

In that nomadic monastery, you wounded me yourself, read the Curia's banishment order to me yourself... You took everything away from me, yourself.

You committed mortal sins. Your punishment was pretty light, given the circumstances.

*sigh* I am responsible for your situation.

Aurela, your achievements earned you a commendation from the Pope himself. You were such a spirited young thing. I was convinced you would become the greatest gun-knight in history.

But all I taught you was how to control that cumbersome armor and master your complicated gun. I never helped you with your temper, so you could truly live the Lateran life.

And in the end, you took that final step... just as I had predicted.

Hmph. Am I supposed to thank you for worrying about my character flaws?

Just because of it, you never approved of me and Amos. You even refused to come to our wedding, even though I had hoped to get your blessing.

Maybe we should have a proper talk about all this.

One way or another, you have returned. Will you come to my side, child? My people will not refuse you, if you join the procession.

What, want to give a sinner like me another chance in the name of Laterano?

No, nothing so lofty.

The errari are still of Laterano. That is all.

In a better Laterano, everyone will find their place and play their part. There will be more foundational, more profound connections between us all.

No matter who you are, no matter what you have done, the Holy City will mend your halo and fix the flaws you were born with.

When that time comes, all our pain and regrets will be healed in turn.

No thanks.

Aurela...

Listen, old man—

I hate how self-righteous you are. I hate how weak Amos was. I hate how inflexible the Curia is. I hate Laterano's stupid garbage about harmony! I hate how cold this Paradise is!

I never forgot this hate, even over ten years in Bolívar!

Even though my halo shattered, even though I was trapped in the dirt, I never once doubted that I would return!

Even when I was enthusiastic and wet-behind-the-ears, I never felt as sure of myself as I do now!

This is my connection with Laterano! This is my faith!

Your student turned out to be a cruel, vicious, selfish soul. Even if she hadn't fallen, she was still no angel!

Tell me, old man, this 'better Laterano' of yours, if it will let in someone who was born evil, does it deserve to be called Paradise?!

Or are you unsure about that too?!

...

Question time's over.

You've been trying to get a bead on me all this time... Failed?

You've actually gotten better since you left, Aurela—

Grkh! *cough* *cough*—Flagritriba!

These new glasses Vani got me... turned out really clear...

—!

...

Allow our other cohorts to take care of your friend's remains, Patrizion. We do not need to mourn him.

Your Beatitude...

Do you still remember that arborbeast fledgling?

If we reach our destination, Laterano shall recreate the miracle of life once more. Every miracle, freely performed.

You mean...?

And so, we move onwards.

S... Stop.

...

Ah, you are his apprentice, yes?

Magister Paganini... Where is he?

He...

He warned me. So in the dream, I-I... hid in the workshop. After I awoke, I still hesitated for so long...

Right now, you're... scary. Laterano's scary. I don't know what's going on, I don't even have a patron firearm...

But I can't just hide and wait...

So you made yourself that gun and came to stop me?

Mhm.

That's very brave of you.

But do you see this procession, my child? We will birth a miracle, one that nearly all Laterans will be a part of.

It's not 'scary'.

(Shakes head) That's got... nothing to do with me.

I'm not very... good with words. I couldn't... couldn't think of any worse ones...

Magister Paganini was... my only family...

My only... connection... to Laterano...

Your only connection, huh...?

Pag, you never got a halo in the dream, so why did you join the procession?

To find a chance to kill you, obviously.

...

That sniper, your old student?

...

Tragic, isn't it?

...

Worse than when Gia left?

...

You still going to listen to that monster? Going to keep protecting the crowd on this walk?

...

Don't think I don't know what you're thinking.

The Laterano of fifty years ago forced you to banish an infected Liberi. The Laterano of ten years ago forced you to banish a fallen gun-knight.

Even your granddaughter is far too stubborn and opinionated. Who knows if someday, she too will...

So, you hope for a better Laterano?

You want it to be like a doctor who becomes a miracle worker, able to treat Oripathy, able to fix personality flaws, able to make everyone accept one another, no questions asked?

That way, no more sad farewells like you've suffered through before?

...

*cough*... You're a coward through and through, Patrizion!

Farewells are like melted ice cream and worn-out guns. Doesn't matter what you do, it's bound to happen, right?

Even if you can't stop them from happening, you can still give your well-wishes. A simple 'goodbye' is all you need.

It's not like you have a speech impediment like Vannini. Is it so hard to find a way to shed some of your regret?

Enough talk! Just hang on!

Hang on, my feathery ass—*cough*—This is... a bullet that can cut right through gun-knight armor...

Don't touch me. Let me finish, otherwise I'll step into the grave that much quicker.

A-Alright then...

What's with the tone? Don't even think about getting sentimental on me, Patrizion!

Why do you think I saved you?

Don't jabber at me about calamity or crisis or what path Laterano should take...

If the city really is going to be destroyed, surely we can do more than just leave it to some monster from beyond our nightmares that sprang up out of nowhere?

Aurela, Fiammetta, all those other Laterans you know... Are these connections that weak to you?

You're a gun-knight, you stulte! The best gun-knight in all of Laterano!

*cough* *cough*—

Hey, not going to say anything?

...

Never mind then. Before, at the Shrine, I said we never actually shared anything these past few decades...

Now, at the very least... That regret's gone.

My magister, he...

Forgive me. I couldn't even give you one final moment with Pag.

*sob*—

Vannini, i-if you had just... been a bit quicker... making this gun, if you had just gotten here quicker...

No, child.

Keep a tight grip on your gun!

Ggh...

Ah—

Vannini. I got your name right, I hope?

...

Vannini, no matter how long it took you, or for what reason you did it, you made your very first patron firearm. That makes you a qualified gunsmith.

But that is not enough. You must learn how to use it.

Now is a perfect opportunity.

Wh-What do you mean?

Keep it steady. Yes, just like that. Calm your mind, then, pull the trigger.

You... You didn't kill Magister Paganini. Also, I'll fa... fall—

I am responsible for what happened to Pag, but this is not to avenge him.

At this very moment, Laterano is walking down a new path. Faith flows into faith, and new prayers congregate into a collective consensus.

You are too close to the procession. Empathy will soon swallow you whole. Only by falling can you break away.

Once you have fallen, I'll go guide the others. This is my duty, the duty of a gun-knight.

I don't understand. Why... do you do this?

...

I don't really know myself, haha. I'm an old addlepate, after all.

I always believed that, were Paradise to become a true paradise, our connections would become unbreakable.

But what if in the course of all that, we lost more than we already had?

We might ease our regrets, but when the time comes, what if our success has lost all meaning?

If we were once all devils, if we once carried our sins together, how could our connections ever be broken?

O glorious Sankta, O favored of faith, what have you to fear?

(Pained inhalation)

Vannini, girl, fear not falling into hell.

This is the first lesson you should learn... and I'm right with you.

It just never ends...

If this keeps on, I'm gonna have to start smacking them with my weapon!

Me too.

My hand's getting numb, can barely hold my staff.

Don't know how it's going on Fiammetta's side of things. According to the plan, once she sets the explosives, we'll blow up the plate's locking mechanisms and send all of Pagus Saint Marcel adrift.

It'll also cut those monsters off from the Basilica.

Tsch. If we can hold on that long.

Dispersing Arrows!

Leave them to me!

These clothes...

Landen Guard temporary solo combat team, Hildegard, at your service!

Landen... Sorry, never heard of you.

It's fine, I'm used to it, haha.

Some of my Sankta sisters are in that procession. We were running our business when we got called back, and then... we went through a whole bunch of stuff.

How should I put this...? Even if everything that happened was fake, and Landen Monastery hasn't actually been given important responsibilities by the Curia...

As long as I'm here, Laterano will once again remember the name of Landen Monastery!

These monsters might look strange, but they're hardly more of a challenge than the beasts of the great snowcapped mountains.

I've got enough arrows, and I've got a sharp eye. I'll help you hold them off!

But we're all tired out, kid. We've racked our brains and put in the effort, but all we can do is keep falling back.

We're not exactly settling any grudges here. We came back to Laterano just to suffer again.

It's almost time, Mostima. Still no news from that Lemuen lady?

If we can't disengage the defenses on the plate lock mechanism, we won't be able to blow through their armor plating, right?

Let's just call it here then.

If those guys reach the Basilica, then what happens? Everyone more or less becomes Sankta?

What's that got to do with us?

Look around you. We can't even cobble together a single halo. Our long-awaited reinforcements are just one Liberi nun.

We've got an entire city's worth of people against us. Why do we Alieni have to hold all of them off?

Come now, that's not the best attitude to have right now...

Because right now, we're the only ones who can.

...

We're always having to bust our asses doing things ordinary Sankta take for granted, right?

I had a little accident, as you can see. If I hadn't become a Legatus, I don't know what I'd be doing right now.

I said I was going to be doing Messenger stuff when I left the Holy City, but I was just wandering around, really.

Wandering to places without any Sankta, places where these black horns on my head don't stand out, places where silent empathy's the norm...

It was hard.

It took two whole years before I could look my friends in the eyes again without breaking out in a sweat.

Liberi, Fallen Angels, we're obsessed with assimilating or getting our old lives back. After putting in all that effort, why go with the hatchet job?

Well, how about that.

I never thought I'd hear those words coming out of your mouth, Mostima.

Promise me you'll forget you heard anything.

Forget what?

How did things go on your end?

Good news is, the bombs are in place.

Bad news is, I was afraid they wouldn't be enough to blow through all the lock mechanisms, so I shoved the rest of my grenades in there with them...

Which means I'm all out of grenades to shoot at these things.

(Halo rapidly flickers)

(Continuous sounds of prayer)

Hey, Fiammetta, let's blow this joint.

Wait! We still haven't heard anything from Lemuen. If the defenses aren't disengaged in time, all our explosives will go to waste!

Time to explosion, one minute!

Wha-?

...

Fifty seconds!

Sorry, everyone! Hope I'm not too late!

You're right on time!

Good to know we're still in sync!

The two of you will never guess how hard I beat my old wheelchair speed-shooting record by after I broke through their cordon around the Seventh Tribunal!

Forty seconds!

I heard what you said just now. Fallen Angels, Liberi, Alieni... I'm inclined to use another term to sum up our relationship.

Friends, countrymen—Laterans!

I've solved the permissions issue. The lock mechanism defenses are disengaged. Everyone, retreat to the Basilica doors! I'll hold these monsters off.

Thirty seconds!

You're going to shoot them, Lemuen? You'll fall!

...

I hate to admit it, but I can sense what you're thinking.

So shut those mouths of yours. Laterano doesn't need to be saved! By you! Like this!

Lemuen, Cardinal of the Seventh Tribunal. In the name of Laterano's national security, I sentence you to death!

No matter the cost!

Five seconds.

It's done.

Lemuen, your halo... You alright? Feel anything weird?

Ngh—

Is that... El?

Hey, turns out it was my sis and her crew! They did a real bang-up job!

(Wounded wail)

(Fragmented prayer)

Retreat somewhere safe, for the time being.

A rift... One my people cannot cross. But we once forded raging rivers and traversed great valleys. Compared to those dangers, this is nothing.

He lies ahead. I shall not stop.

*cough* I... I never said I'd let you pass.

Your body is weak. I fear you have not an ounce of strength left. Am I wrong?

—

Even though you know the entire truth of both past and present, even though you know we are working to create a new miracle, like the birth of Laterano...

Even though you know our journey thus far has been to awaken our Lord, to ensure that in the future with but a hair's breadth separating destruction from continuation, the Sankta shall persist...

Why do you still stand against us?

Hmm...

Am I the only one?

What?

With empathy that strong, I don't believe for a second you can't feel it!

After so many long years of waiting, I finally got my chance, but... it was all just a dream...

A dream's fine, too.

If it's all a dream, then I don't have to worry about anything. Maybe getting shot here doesn't mean anything in reality!

If this is a dream, then I shall wake. If this is obsession, then I shall shatter it.

Let us only speak of redemption after that.

Vannini, girl, fear not falling into hell.

This is the first lesson you should learn... and I'm right with you.

East of the east of La Unidad♪ Laterano, holy city of white♪

There, the earth hides no bombs♪ There, the fields share wheat most bright♪

All shall bask in His love♪

I hate to admit it, but I can sense what you're thinking.

So shut those mouths of yours. Laterano doesn't need to be saved! By you! Like this!

I'm just an ordinary Lateran. Nobody important, and I don't have any special skills.

So when I listened to you talk about the origins of the Sankta, the history of Laterano, the essence of faith, the crazy truth behind the life we're used to...

I was shocked! Shocked right down to my core!

If things really are like you say, then the life we enjoyed in Laterano really is a kind of miracle.

But since I'm just an ordinary Lateran, while you were explaining everything happening around us, all I noticed was...

How nobody looked happy at all.

Shouldn't Laterano be a happy place?

If... If lots of our people will suffer when we complete this journey, how am I supposed to believe you can make the miracle happen?

Wait, no, scratch that, how am I supposed to believe it's a miracle in the first place?

So, even if I wasn't around, there'd be other Sankta to stand against you.

I shared all I have seen and all I have experienced, yet you still choose to turn away?

The path of the Sankta is a cruel one, our faith paved with sin and suffering.

Have their years inside this peculiar, distorted Paradise left our brethren so weak?

Ugh, you're not getting me at all.

Maybe I should be asking what you asked me earlier—

Why you?

...

I have already told you my answer.

Even if this Terra-destroying calamity is real, and millions of Sankta are doomed, and Laterano's about to be completely screwed...

Why are you, a 'Saint', the only one who can bring us salvation?

We're the ones who live in this city right now, who enjoy its blessings, who went through its changes, and who protected it from destruction.

You don't exist anymore. You're just a ghost! A string of code I can shoot!

Incorrect, my child. When I lifted my spear against my dying companion, the sleeping silver mounts answered me, and recorded my prayer for all eternity.

All that is happening here and now is a continuation of that prayer.

Death cannot be undone, yet I wandered amongst His datastream. Together, we heard your prayers.

No matter how appearances may change, no matter how the faith develops as time flows by, so long as the Sankta still pray, He shall operate eternally, and I shall forever be there...

The spiritual light will always shine on Laterano.

This is our mission.

...Prayer is useless.

Pardon?

To be honest, I learned a long time ago that prayer is useless.

...

When I was in my third year of primary school, an investigator from the Sixth Tribunal did an experiment at our school.

She said there were two groups of patients at Faber Central Hospital with more or less the same conditions, and split us into our own two groups. One group would pray every day, while the other didn't have to do anything.

But in the end, there wasn't any difference in their recovery. The investigator told us the results in class: prayer is useless.

Haha, it's funny, really. This country's full of churches, but it's always doing these kinds of 'outrageous' experiments.

(Halo flickers)

You're right, Laterans really do pray to the Lord every day.

Praying they'll get better soon after getting sick, praying they'll pick the coolest guardian gun ever, praying the caravans won't run into Catastrophes on the way home, praying they'll never have to say goodbye to their friends...

Praying that they'll be able to make it through all sorts of pain and suffering.

But I never actually expected there to be a 'Lord' who would grant everyone's wishes, who would swoop in to save us when we're in trouble.

...

Empathy lets us sense the emotions of our people. It lets me know if the ones by my side are happy or sad.

But prayer? Prayer doesn't just need me to sense things, it needs me to want to help my family and friends, to understand things outside of empathy.

It even lets me feel like I could help some complete strangers get well sooner.

Even though I know it probably won't change a thing.

I met lots of Sankta while running around with Penguin Logistics. You'd be hard pressed to call some of them Father, while others don't live life like we do in the Holy City anymore.

But they were all so... fulfilled. I still felt close to them.

I believe it's because we still prayed like we always did.

It needs us to not doubt. It needs us to hold hope in our hearts.

Just being down to pray for each other is a beautiful thing in itself.

It gives me a true connection to people.

(Thunderous sigh)

If these connections were the foundation of faith, it would be exceedingly frail.

No. I think it's exactly these connections that help hold our lives up.

'Survival'... 'Life'...

If you don't understand why Sankta these days are all about desserts and explosions—

What's up with you?

(Fretful pacing)

...

This rift you have opened allows me to sense His signal much more clearly.

He is below the Basilica, calling out for me to approach—

No, no... Why is His signal in such disarray... He is anxious, uneasy...

The Creator has already revoked... or perhaps.... there are other threats forcing Him to... change...

Child, talks of past and present are meaningless... You need only step towards... the future...

You do not understand this crisis. There are no new solutions for you to find. You must... survive...

I said it before, I'm not letting you pass.

How are you meant to stop... a ghost... a string of code...?

(Mournful roar)

If we weren't in this mess, we could've been pretty good friends. A ghost, a string of code, the very first Sankta... There's no cooler friend than that!

Ah, silly me! Can't believe I forgot to introduce myself!

Lemuel of St. Theodore's Comprehensive School, number one student in the 84th Intercity Net Security preparatory course! And I've got the school certs to prove it!

Every bullet I got you with was custom-made! They just needed some time to take effect!

We're not going to give up on life, obviously, but we're definitely not going to go with your plan.

If refusing it means the halos connecting us will be cut off, then cut them off.

Because even if you do, we will never stop praying for each other.

We'll still give thanks to the Lord for His existence, even if He isn't what we thought He was.

O Lord, thank you for being there, for blessing us with bread and bullets, for being there for us during our trials and tribulations!

Thank you for spreading the light across Laterano all this time, giving everyone the chance for salvation!

Thank you for clearing the way for us!

Amen. There, prayer done.

Let's say bye-bye, the wildest way I know—

(Roars)

Divine judgment, traditional!

Rock n' gospel!

Barrage, sky-shattering!

Apple pie, with char siu!

Originium?

A... sea, made of Originium?

It's like the sea back home. Calm, beautiful, but one nobody dares to set out on it.

Maybe, maybe not. This is familiar to you because... because the sea by your hometown is here. There's even a part of you here too.

All things that are have been sealed here. A coffin for the world and everything upon it.

Like the crystals left behind by Oripathy patients after they die?

If that helps you understand it, then yes.

Amazing, isn't it? This was once the end of everything.

We are born far too late, our lives far too short. We even unconsciously take some inconsequential mishaps, and turn them into the foundation of our very being.

Like how you blindly took a shattered memory and turned it into divine revelation.

But no matter. The Law wishes to bestow upon you true revelation.

He says: 'None can be saved.'

...

The Law created the Sankta from the Teekaz, built the order of Laterano in untamed wilds, and even attempted to establish a Terra-wide religion spanning multiple civilizations.

He has worked for millennia in service of humanity. Surely it was not simply to turn all of it into Originium?

Is that truly the Law's ultimate goal?

If Originium is as you earlier described, able to assimilate everything, why is it a prerequisite to anything?

Surely it is more than the end of everything?

How would the Law be able to operate inside a field of uniform Originium? What would be the meaning of a halo in that case?

'None can be saved'?

So not even Laterano as it is, a cramped Paradise, can be preserved?

It cannot be saved, nor preserved.

'Save everyone' has never been a tenable commandment.

All things march towards death. The only way to 'save' them is to see them off.

Grant them a dream, a bearing to hold themselves to. Hide their blemishes, espouse their brilliance.

By doing so, you allow them to gladly accept their final journey.

Like how you saved yourself.

Granting dreams to others as a placebo?

No. I won't accept that.

If I have truly, shamelessly clung onto a false dream, put myself through a crucible for more than ten years...

If I have debased myself by inflicting unhealing wounds upon countless others for the sake of self-salvation...

Then all the more reason not to spread this shamelessness and debasement to others.

Even if you accepted it, you are unable to perform such an act.

Only the Law can bestow such salvation.

You can't possibly mean...

Keph's plan... was to give everyone halos, all so they can be granted this 'salvation'?

But how would becoming Sankta help? Are Sankta beyond callousness, beyond cruelty, beyond... suffering?!

We shall not stop at becoming Sankta.

We will all become true angels, Andoain Agathangelos.

True... angels?

Aggy... Agathangelos? I don't like this name. It's too long and hard to read, and it doesn't sound like any of the other names here.

This is... my surname. Before your father left, he kept telling me he hoped I would give it to you.

But, Mamma...

I know it's strange and hard to read, Andoain.

If the other children knew you had this name, they might say hurtful things to you like 'there's that weird boy!'.

Once you head out further afield, bandits may think you're a rich foreigner, while the Inquisition might assume you're a zealot up to no good.

Which is why I hope you never share it with others. Stick with a simple name, like the other orphans here.

I hope you will keep it in the deepest recesses of your heart, a place where your happiness, anger, sorrow and joy cannot touch.

But I feel really sad right now... I don't know if there's anywhere in me that doesn't feel sad.

Is there really a place like that in my heart?

Of course, Andoain. Everyone has one.

I hope that, when you think of this name, you will be free from suffering, grief, frustration, and strife.

Forget the dying and the hungry by the road who claw at your ankles. Forget those in despair, whose minds were eaten away by the sea fog, and the flesh they chew on.

Forget the monster doll your father made, and my finscale soup. Forget the storybook you keep beneath your pillow, and the brush you found in the old chapel.

But I don't want to forget them!

...It's just for a little while, alright?

I hope that, when you think of this name, you will find tranquility... the tranquility of emptiness.

One day, you will need this peace.

Promise me, Andoain.

Alright.

But I still want to know what this name means.

'Angel'. In Lateran, it means... 'Angel'.

Tranquility... Yes, a very apt descriptor.

Behold. Even as they come, they do so in silence.

Halos...

Beautiful, aren't they?

It's a pity that all the beauty and ugliness in the world is meaningless to angels.

Angels are neither beautiful nor ugly. They are neither high nor low, noble nor base, reverent nor blasphemous, adorant nor disdainful.

They know neither meeting nor separation, happiness nor suffering.

Can they even be considered life?

Does that matter? All the praise we heap upon life is nothing but egotistical admiration.

Observing their forms in an attempt to compare them to our definition of life is simply us trying to find resonance with them.

Then, are they the Law? Are they gods?

If there is no distinction between beauty and ugliness, high and low, noble and base, why would there be one for god and worshiper?

Angels do not understand faith. They simply exist in the furthest reaches of the universe, taking on the most distinctive forms.

It was our forebears who encountered them, shamelessly disturbing them as they did so. In their name, we created a forgery of a dialectic, of god and worshiper.

If all our emotions, ideas and actions have nothing to do with angels...

What does our future have to do with them?

It is because everything we are has nothing to do with angels that we should become them.

Now, this is only a possibility, but...

When the Creator descends, when everything is submerged into this ocean before us, a time of stasis, uniformity, and meaninglessness...

The Sankta within can take on the forms of angels and enjoy an eternal existence, where they shall shine forevermore.

This is the final answer we shall submit to death.

This is His gift to the people He has guarded for thousands of years, His final blessing and salvation.

So these are true angels?

Incomprehensible to the point where the Law cannot directly describe them, instead defining them by what they are not?

Immaterial to the point where taking the form of angels allows one to continue to exist after becoming Originium?

This is the existence the Law has chosen once everything returns to Originium?

If this is the ultimate purpose of the Law, then as a saint and an executor, I should implement and enforce it.

Unless...

Unless the Law itself is a paradox.

I have one final question!

Explain to me how, if angels truly are as you say, without beginning or end, increase or decrease, life or death...

Then why do they—you—have such a strong desire to exist... to continue to exist?

You are an artificial system, so you require people to operate you. This is true for both a 'command system' and the Law worshiped by the Holy City.

The ultimate purpose you were given was to break humanity free from their shackles and return their angelic nature.

However, this purpose, does it stem from people, or from angels?

Why would the angels you described desire this? Their actions do not have purpose, assuming they can even perform actions other than 'drift' and 'flicker'.

But if this purpose comes from people, how will you turn them into angels?

Surely everything you have done was more than just—

Nurturer, I shall now grant you salvation.

Guide your people to angelification. Guide yourself.

Be free from suffering, grief, frustration, and strife. You will obtain tranquility, the tranquility of emptiness, as shall those you have helped and harmed alike.

You need not live as an egotist, a villain, a traitor, or a fanatic. Nor do you need to die as one.

...

I don't know what kind of answer His Holiness gave you, nor do I know what Mostima, Fiammetta, Lemuen or her little sister are thinking right now aboveground.

I don't know where Patia and our former fellows are headed, nor do I know whose bosom the children I tended in the Shrine of Nurtury have clutched.

I don't know if they want this salvation, this relief.

But if what you really care about is my answer as a 'suitable candidate'...

Then my answer is no.

I'm far too conceited. Even to this very moment, I still refuse to believe my arduous search for answers, decades in the making, was all for this simple relief.

I'm not only conceited, I'm an egotist, a villain, a traitor, and a fanatic. And so I suffer and grieve, my frustrations giving rise to strife.

But they are the foundations of my life.

If I were to abandon them, the one who obtains relief, who becomes an angel, would not be me.

Andoain Agathangelos shall never obtain relief.

Nor will he ever wish for it!

Let suffering scar his flesh, let strife snap his bones! Then, and only then, will he have the clarity of mind to walk his path!

It seems we have reached an agreement.

The Law itself is a paradox. He cannot be implemented, nor should He be.

Andoain, we must correct Him... or stop Him, if He cannot be corrected.

What information is He waiting for?

I've said all I can say.

If God wishes me to embrace death as an angel...

Then I would rather be born as a human, with all the ugliness, transience, and suffering that entails.

God's final commandment... is to kill God.

Even if He was a paradox, he was still the foundation of the Paradise of Laterano. With His death, the Sankta will no longer be linked by empathy or receive guidance from the Law.

Like an infant trapped within a womb, biting apart its umbilical cord and crawling its way out of its mother's cold body, helpless as it faces a land steeped in cruelty.

But it is only in such a land that we can be called truly human.

That we can have the right to talk about salvation.

Law or God, I will kill you.

The commandment is rational and feasible.

Assist me, Andoain.

Whew—

Nearly there. If my memory serves me correctly, I just head down this corridor to return to the surface.

Oh, you patrols truly are relentless.

(Restless gasping)

(Halo flashing rapidly)

The ground...?

Fede, what did you—

*cough* *cough*... Urgh...

...

...

*sniffle*... *sob*...

You're crying, why...?

Why does your crying sound so annoying?!

You're annoyed? I-I can't feel it.

Sorry, I'm so sorry... But I'm scared!

It's like that time Seniora Serpilia locked me in a dark room. I can hear your voices clearly, but I can't hear what you're saying...

...

My connection with our enlightened companions has been... severed...

No, not just them... You're right here, Reverend Patrizion, but... I can't even...

...

Sense me, I know.

Wuh... Waaaahhhh....

Be a good girl and don't let go of my hand—

Your hand... That's not what your hand feels like...

It's like... mist.

Far away... You're so... far away from me.

...So, this is what it's like to fall into hell?

Every light we know will one day be extinguished.

And it is no exception.

Even if everything about the Sankta existence is interpreted as 'its' boon?

'The Sankta will lose the cozy cabin of their faith'... Everything has come to pass.

Did you fail, Fede?

If you're scared, you can hold onto my tail.

You noticed Giselle's tears, didn't you, Romya? Have you forgotten what tears mean?

Let's finish our song, okay?

You see, Laterano hymns and Bolívarian hymns are quite different, so we need time to teach each other the parts we don't know.

We will be here, together.

East of the east of La Unidad♪

L-Laterano, holy city of white♪

...There, the earth hides no bombs♪

There, the fields share wheat most bright♪

All shall bask in His love♪

Your Holiness, I have no doubt that Laterano as it is may be walking to its demise.

But I also believe it has never been this sincere.

I've said before that I can't hold off the apocalypse or overwrite death, and I refuse to lead.

But maybe my Arts can help them stave off this oncoming collapse.

They will let my brethren, free of empathy, to 'communicate' without reservation, purely and honestly.

Go listen to those songs. Go share your emotions. Go tell one another that, at this very moment, in the face of this indescribable loss, we still feel joy and sorrow together.

This has nothing to do with saints and sinners, redemption and responsibility, or whichever path I walk.

This is simply my reason to exist.