Arknights story · Episode 14: Absolved Will Be the Seekers
14-8 Close Support
The Exemplars meet the enemy on the battlefield. The Duke of Caster receives news that Siege has brought the Realmblade to the front lines. Dublinn's forces, led by Eblana, join the battlefield, and the duel between the Duke of Wellington and the Nachzehrer King begins.
2 scenes, 547 lines
1. Before Operation
273 lines
What the hell are those things up in the sky?!
Get down!
Don't touch.
This isn't any normal cannonfire. Sarkaz witchcraft... is corrosive in nature. I won't be much help.
Those people still trapped in the polluted area...
It's too late for them.
You got shit in the air, stuff growing on the ground, AND crystals and dust everywhere! Can't even take a damn step!
The Sarkaz want to turn this battlefield into their home turf – forcing us to put down our gear and cower while they pummel us.
When it comes to a head-to-head infantry battle, the Sarkaz will surely have an advantage due to their natural physique.
Alright, I get it now. It's all just a dirty trick!
Which is why we can't afford to get caught off guard. If they ever get the drop on us, we're done for on the spot.
Morgan, get as many of our vehicles up and running as you can. Avoid any close combat with Sarkaz infantry.
Even if a vehicle's destroyed, don't overlook the mounted cannon. They're the best weapons we've got.
Understood!
Delphine,send the signalers out as widely as you feasibly can. The Exemplars will be able to maintain communication that way, at the least.
Of course.
If we want to push forward, we're going to have to take down that altar up ahead.
Horn, covering fire!
Roger!
Indra, your team's responsible for holding the enemy back. Doesn't matter if it's casters or Arts Creations or whatever those things are up in the sky.
You got it.
Dagda's team, you're with me.
Same as always?
Another altar of Sarkaz witchcraft.
Climb, pull up, leap, bring down the hammer.
As the war rages on, they've become more and more familiar with these war machines resembling the devils' eyes.
They've become more and more familiar with war itself.
Vina often feels as if Indra, Morgan, and Dagda have changed somewhat. She trusts that the very same changes can be seen in her.
Is it a change for the better? Or a change that came far too late?
The devil's crimson eye stares at her.
The hammer comes down hard, and the altar begins to collapse before Siege even reaches the ground.
Something's... growin' outta that bloody thing! It's another altar, not far from the one we knocked down!
How many of these little buggers did they bury in the ground? Bloody hell...
There's no end to them.
Siege tightly grips her hammer.
They are adapting. But not quickly enough.
Trilby Asher, has the location of the Stone of the Sword changed?
I haven't been notified of any changes to the plan.
Can the ship still move, with all the Originium crystals everywhere?
I'll have you know, Victoria has the most powerful fleet on land.
We might be slowed a little, but we're certainly not without options.
I hear naval guns.
I believe it's the Iron Duke's Gastrell, going by the sound.
The next round of our assault is beginning.
One of Abercorn's assault ships has run into the Sarkaz advance brigade!
The enemy was hiding in the fog and suddenly appeared–
Our vision is severely limited by the Originium crystals and we can't follow their movements at all!
Has mid-range communication been restored yet?
The ship's comm tower is still out of commission. Engineering's trying to repair it, but in this Originium-dense zone...
Your Grace, what are you doing on deck?
There's Originium dust everywhere outside, please try not to leave the command center...
I've heard that Wellington always stands on the deck of the Gastrell, personally commanding his frontline troops.
The Iron Duke has been through many battles, but you...
Just now, the Gastrell opened fire.
Your ears did not deceive you.
Is he still pressing forward?
I'm afraid so. The Iron Duke's forces have penetrated deeper than we thought, and are about to collide with the Sarkaz core units.
Wellington...
Does he plan to take the head of the Sarkaz regent?
The Wesley Wellington I knew was indeed a warrior before he became the Iron Duke.
His bravery might have bordered on madness... but he would never gamble with the outcome of a battle.
Regardless, the Iron Duke's recklessness has placed us at great risk.
As per the initial orders, Duke Abercorn's and Duke Ashworth's men are following the Iron Duke... and among them, our vanguard as well.
Factoring in the surrounding Originium, our front line is being stretched thin.
What of the 'eyes' you placed aboard the Gastrell?
Nothing yet.
Even us Trilby Ashers are experiencing some... serious delays in communication.
Aileen, confirm the status of the Stone of the Sword.
No issues so far!
We will never allow the Stone of the Sword to be tainted by Sarkaz witchcraft.
Your Grace, the Poet has launched a flare.
So Alexandrina and the Sighs of Kings will arrive soon.
Have your people keep a close eye on them. Don't let the sword get lost on the battlefield.
We must put the Sighs of Kings to work immediately.
Unless the comms are restored fully... the so-called ducal alliance is a non-entity.
The enemy seems to be getting stronger.
The same witchcraft... eats away at us while strengthening them.
Siege, watch out!
––
Argh—!
Dagda!
The hammer falls, and a portion of the Nachzehrer warrior's body is caved in.
But he continues to advance.
–––!
A second swing. Then a third.
Dagda leaps back, splitting his waist with her metal claws.
The Trilby Asher's flaming blade pierces his chest.
(Dull gasps)
That's just one. There are still... many more ahead.
These Sarkaz are truly...
Monsters!
These bloody devils are all monsters, goddamn it! They're not even flesh-and-blood !
Do you think they're already dead? Only the dead can...
Already dead...?
Strange noises can be heard in all directions.
They are distinct from the sounds of Originium crystal clusters piercing the ground. They are not omens to the explosion of Originium dust.
Better focus on the one right in front of you, then.
There's always going to be someone standing up front.
Raise the shield, fire the cannon. Repeat, ad infinitum.
Victoria possesses the strongest weapons in all of Terra. One shell can easily blow apart a Sarkaz's armor.
Just as quickly, two more Sarkaz rush forth at the same time to take the place. Then three.
The artillery fire unleashes its fury, but it cannot stem the surging tide.
*huff*... *pant*...
There's no end to the enemies.
She can hardly tell how many Sarkaz are on the ground in front of her; some standing, some lying.
The number of fallen Victorians is perhaps even greater.
She can hear Bagpipe's shouts and the whistling of her spear. From those she finds utmost solace, and that's enough to keep her fighting on.
A plume of firelight suddenly springs up not too far away.
What is it, Captain?
I think... I just saw Hill again.
Oh, Hill.
That same face again. The same face that appears in her nightmares every now and then, reminding her of how tragically her teammates died... The face of that traitor.
...He's dead.
Is he that one... lyin' over there? Seems to have been killed in action some time ago... Um, Captain, just now, did he...?
...
The man clad in the uniform of Wellington's forces staggers towards them.
He lifts the blade in his hands, and slashes at the Sarkaz in front of Horn.
The armor is too thick, and the recoil pushes his hands away. His arms contort strangely and he strikes a second time, then a third.
That familiar visage is getting closer and closer to them–
In the midst of the dead silent gray, only a tiny speck of purple dances.
'I lay down now my soldier's honor here, so that in time the soil of Tara need no longer be soaked in carmine blood, and Draco cross no swords with Draco kin.'
'Be that unless a day comes, whereupon Red Dragon's flame should lead all those that fell, our fighters from the forge to be reborn.'
The third set of altars has been crushed!
Milady, our casters and flying soldiers are in position. We're about to approach the largest altar!
Our deceased compatriots have managed to protect us from the devils' vile pollution, but the destructive power of their witchcraft is unprecedented!
Allow me.
...Milady?
You're... going to destroy the altar yourself?
You, as my subjects, have done all you needed to do.
I, as your sovereign, ought to lead you forward.
How can I take this land as my own if I have never set foot upon it?
The Red Dragon's flame... shall fall upon the battlefield's front lines, just as it has for thousands of years.
––Our altar's being razed!
Stay in formation! Don't get scattered by those flames – keep casting!
They're nothing but a ragtag bunch of impotent outbloods–
I wouldn't be so sure about that.
We are nothing like those Victorians who have it easy.
Every Taran warrior has been forged within the shadows, tempered by pain and suffering.
We were once known as specters, for we knew most intimately the scent of death.
I won't let you–!
Trying to turn yourself into an Arts catalyst... to detonate the altar?
As you wish.
No...!
I'm... too late...
The spark of life gradually fades.
And in its place burns a deathly purple flame, leaping across the body of the slain Sarkaz warrior just as it dances in Eblana's eyes.
There is no Royal Court in death's domain.
Sarkaz, your people know death so well... only because you've fought enough wars.
See that?
Death itself stands with us! Our enemies are not inscrutable demons!
Drag those Sarkaz out from their pretentious Arts Circles and give them a taste of our crossbows and cannons!
Brigadier... I see a flame burning within your eyes.
I've waited far too long for this, just like countless other Taran warriors.
All of us grew up hearing the legends of the Empire's Death Knell, and enlisted with burning fervor in our hearts!
But over the last few decades, Wellington's administrator and the Duke have had their hands tied, and we've also been caught between the cracks of the other dukes' negotiation tables.
So many hot-blooded warriors were repressed because of their background, while many others perished in the Victorians' conspiracies.
I've endured for so many years, even to see myself turn into a scheming villain, all for the sake of witnessing a real war – not one ignited by the nobles' petty power-jockeying.
Only on such a battlefield can a warrior's death be glorious and meaningful.
If I am to die in this battle–
Then please bestow upon me your flames so that I may stand once more!
Until my remains are consumed fully by the fire, until our promised nation has been established, I shall never lay down my arms!
Excellent. Now then, come with me.
Do you see... that throne of deadwood?
That's the Sarkaz leader.
The Nachzehrer, Nezzsalem. He who calls himself the lord of war and death.
The Sarkaz Royal Court sure has a thing for these overblown titles.
Overblown...? Hardly.
He just happens to be ancient enough.
But, he is not the only living legend here.
Why of course!
Not far away, naval guns roar.
Ancient witchcraft is not the only force that can cause mountains to move.
Now, let us pit war against war... and death against death.
My Patriarch, the hunt has been cut short.
That Draco's flames have broken our formation.
...Draco.
Thousands of years ago, after the Sarkaz first lost their homeland, they once did battle against a red dragon on this very soil.
Those flames turned fields of Sarkaz into charred stone. They are still beside us, and beneath our feet.
We will slay her.
A red dragon will sate our appetite for a while.
She is not the one who drives this war.
The Nachzehrer King turns his gaze towards a certain part of the battlefield.
Behind the Red Dragon's smoke and flames, a huge shadow is rushing toward them at an unexpected speed.
A titan that casts a shadow across the land, able to shake mountains and rivers with but a single breath–
No longer is it a mere red dragon.
'All parameters set!'
'Loading complete!'
'Firing interference shells!'
'Target locked on–'
'Main guns, first salvo!'
Confirmed hit!
General, we've swept the obstacles away.
Good.
Gastrell, all ahead full.
Our objective – the Nachzehrer's throne.
The naval guns roar.
Wellington is well-acquainted with his most loyal subject – the oldest gun aboard the ship, that which assisted him in blowing open the gates of Lingones.
He killed the mightiest nomadic city on Terra. He pulled the spine from its corpse and made it a part of his warship.
Afterwards, he took the Gastrell to many lands, and conquered many foes.
The Arts orbs of Leithanian casters, the shields of Ursine vanguards, the golden blades of Sargonian assassins – he collected and modified the most valuable components of his enemies, and placed them upon his flagship.
But not for the sake of commemoration. Only those who have become weak and frail through the passage of time need to rely on these vestiges to remember the past.
The Gastrell must step over the bones of its enemies, assimilating their power so that it may become stronger.
Only this way can the two of them defeat even stronger enemies together.
Intercept them!
The crystal barrier... has been shattered.
The enemy continues to advance.
How they must long for death, using artillery fire to cleave a path.
Wave after wave of cannonfire pours down onto the sea of Originium.
Golden fragments crack and split apart, revealing a gap within those congealed waves.
How dare they... approach us––
A thick haze envelops the battleship.
Countless Nachzehrer warriors land on its deck, the entire vessel enveloped in the glow of witchcraft.
Rend, dismantle, corrode.
The cadence of gunfire gradually slows.
The hard, steel hull is being digested, just like all other prey that has fallen into the Nachzehrers' Arts circles.
Capture... complete...
...
Not yet.
He lifts his scepter.
Branches grow rapidly from beneath the throne, blocking the front of the Nachzehrer warriors.
A shell lodges within the branches.
A few seconds later, the shell explodes, tearing the branches asunder.
For the first time since the battle began, the Nachzehrer's throne shakes.
My Patriarch!
It matters not.
From the thick haze of corruption, the warship slowly comes into view.
Its outer layer flayed off by the corruption, almost half its main and secondary guns disabled due to the bombardment of witchcraft shells, only the steel frame remains shining.
Yet she is nevertheless still Gastrell, the mightiest warship in the land.
And her master–
The Sarkaz atop the throne lowers his head, noticing a faint shadow among the crystal clusters.
General, the Gastrell has successfully drawn the attention of the main Sarkaz force!
They didn't even notice that we were transferred from the main ship–
Wait, something's coming in fast!
Guardsmen, tighten your formation!
A salvo of artillery fire.
Only a few tiny twigs fall from the smoke and dust.
The force that was enough to shatter those crystalline waves cannot even shake the figure floating in the air.
The Nachzehrer King casts his gaze down upon the commander at the center of the army. Not far behind the old Feline, the bloodthirsty warship is waiting, eager to tear at his rotting flesh.
Duke... of Victoria.
We have devoured many Victorians. General, Duke. Whatever the title, they all tasted the same.
Conspirators. Merchants. But none of their warriors.
They saw the battlefield as little more than a sandbox atop a table. The soldiers, mere chess pieces; war itself, only a tool for power and profit. How frivolous war was to them.
But, you are different. Your ship has also feasted on many enemies.
Ursine. Leithanian. Gaulish... And, Sarkaz. I can smell their flesh.
They have also been absorbed by the Nachzehrers.
Sarkaz... I've read plenty of records about you.
The ancient Nachzehrers, with a tenth of the Victorian Army's numbers, were able to halt their advance on Kazdel.
A feat of war that defies all reason, one that cannot be taught in military academies or replicated.
Are you here to take revenge?
Haha. My only regret is that I hadn't been born two hundred years ago.
They apparently call you the 'God of War'?
No. There are no gods when it comes to war.
There only exists... the moment of victory or defeat.
Wellington draws his sword and points it at the Sarkaz in midair.
Behind him, all the guns on his ship are pointed in the same direction.
Nezzsalem, I will defeat you.
Just like all the other mighty foes that have fallen at my hands.
2. After Operation
274 linesSixty-five hours into the operation...
The battle between the ducal alliance and the Nachzehrers is brutal.
Just farther ahead is Silverrock Bluffs. The Originium response is intense, and the vehicle has already been paralyzed.
Vina should be arriving at the front lines soon.
The Exemplars have a tough task ahead of them.
When the Sighs of Kings and the Stone of the Sword become one, we'll be able to see it from our position.
'Catastrophes be sundered'.
It's only a myth.
When people see things that defy explanation, they tend to exaggerate and romanticize them when passing down those to generations.
The Sighs of Kings and The Shard–
The Victorians' 'shield' and 'spear'.
The Shard is an application of Originium on the same level as large-scale witchcraft devices.
And the Sighs of Kings is able to neutralize certain Originium reactions.
I see you've done your homework.
Originium is often likened to a 'chronic disease'.
To this day, the people of Terra's best solution to Catastrophes has been – and still is – to avoid them.
It is incredibly difficult for people to directly intervene in the mechanisms of Originium.
But, the Victorians have long mastered these tools to save themselves.
The origin of the Sighs of Kings lies not in Victoria, right?
The first time I saw the Sighs of Kings was deep within the palace of the Shahanshah in Sargon.
People regard it as a symbol of the Aslan's royal authority and believe that it can protect any settlement or city. This is indeed true. It is able to neutralize Originium reactions to a certain extent.
Only to a certain extent?
You don't seem particularly concerned about that caveat.
That's right. No matter how much effort the Sargonian casters put into unearthing and retrofitting it, it was nothing but a former city defense device.
During the era in which it was put to use, Originium was not yet widely-available across the continent.
I trust that it will be able to temporarily put a stop to Amnannam and give the Feranmut's spine an opportunity to take off, but it is not an inhibitor that can completely seal Originium activity.
Have you been disappointed too many times over all these years?
Doctor... from your current perspective, what do you think Originium is?
A phenomenon brimming with the unknown? A resource to exploit? Or, perhaps, a source of disaster and disease?
...
I can't say.
You don't want to, because your answer would be 'all of the above'.
Originium has long been inextricably woven into everything we see – our environment, our technology, our culture, and even our bodies.
If a portion of a limb is necrotic, cutting it off might solve the problem. But, what if the problem stretches from beginning to end?
There are some people who see you as omnipotent.
...
Why are you... looking at me?
Doctor, you asked me if I've ever experienced disappointment.
Just once.
I allowed myself to become overly dependent on one person, made a series of poor judgments, and paid the price.
Are you referring to...?
...
(Sigh)
But, it doesn't mean that I'll stop believing.
It is difficult enough to rebel against the very foundations of our origins. To pin your hopes on just one technology... or one person, is utterly unrealistic.
I'm sure we'll find a witchcraft altar at its deepest point.
We should go to where the Originium response is the strongest.
There's Originium everywhere.
This level of Originium activation is unprecedented.
How are you feeling, Amiya?
Logos, you're also an Infected. Do you feel anything abnormal?
Kal'tsit, will our medicine still work?
I'd be lying if I said that these environmental conditions weren't affecting me at all.
But, it's more than just Originium.
It beats being completely unprepared.
Under the influence of Amnannam, Originium will come closer to its true nature.
The crystal clusters will merge with all things – living and dead – at an increasing rate, sealing that data inside in an assimilated form.
Originium can only store information within its own structure. As such, any assimilated individuals will completely lose the forms they had in life.
Some may see this as nothing more than instantaneous 'decomposition'.
Just like those who die due to an Oripathy outbreak...
There are some parallels. In the case of these patients, after their consciousness disperses, their bodies will disintegrate into highly-activated Originium dust over a period of time.
Assimilation, on the other hand, condenses this entire process to the extreme.
Rhodes Island's technology can only delay cell-Originium assimilation rate from reaching a certain threshold. We are not able to truly erect a barrier that can stave off Originium.
...
Don't worry too much about that, Doctor. The Originium saturation rate in our current environment is far from an extreme level.
Is our situation not extreme enough still?
It's hard for me not to worry.
Right now, we can still breathe and move about.
If we're quick enough to stop the Originium from spreading further, all hope is not yet lost.
Intruders?!
It's the Banshee and––
Urgh!
There are quite a few guards, but they're not difficult to manage.
There must be greater dangers yet lurking in the shadows. Doctor, please stay close to us.
The interference of Confessarius witchcraft is making it hard for me to pinpoint the exact location – but the Blood of Teekaz is undoubtedly nearby.
Teekaz blood roused the first Originium from its slumber.
Over the millennia, the fate of the Sarkaz has been tangled together with Originium.
Amiya and Logos are suffering. Or rather, they've shouldered this pain the entire time just to come this far.
What about you, then? You think of all the times Kal'tsit had to suppress the words she wished to say.
You are not only a witness and a bystander. Surely, you share a deeper connection – with Originium, with this war, and with everything that's been going on.
This is...
The Blood of Teekaz.
Duq'arael's obsession.
This so-called pure blood is free of 'impurities'.
By itself, it possesses no inherent power.
Amiya, cut off its connection to the altar.
Got it–
Wait.
...Dr. Kal'tsit?
Mon3tr, attack the corpse of that guard over there!
(Howls)
—
There's another Mon3tr?
No, there's more than just one – all those defeated Confessarius guards... weren't real guards at all!
Near-perfect replicas.
Only he could decorate this cave... to look nearly identical to a real altar.
This was a trap designed to lure us in.
Damazti.
Amiya, get behind me!
(Furious howl)
Mon3tr stands in front of you.
And you grip Amiya's hand tightly.
The Blood of Teekaz is collapsing along with the entire altar, the surrounding rock walls pressing ever closer.
The illusion is no more, but the shifting terrain is real.
The real altar must still be functioning. Originium continues to grow, and it will soon consume everything you see.
Doctor!
This is...
...the Confessarii's den.
We seem to have fallen to the deepest level of the false altar.
The Originium was shifting too fast, and I only had time to grab onto you.
I don't know where Dr. Kal'tsit and Logos are... There's too much Originium here, too much information. I can't sense them at all.
They're probably far away by now.
The enemy wanted to entrap us.
They want to stop us from destroying the altar.
But, you might still be the Confessarii's real target.
What they want is the King of Sarkaz.
The ground is still shaking... Are the crystal clusters still spreading?
Wait, that's...
—
A monster suddenly crawls forth from the Originium's depths.
The horns of a Wendigo. The body of a Gargoyle. The flames of a Diαblo.
You have seen these before, in the Confessarii's stone sculptures, of the various Sarkaz tribes.
But never before sharing the same body.
Amiya, over there!
There will be many more, Doctor.
This is the cave that gave birth to them.
The Confessarii sculpted them from Sarkaz blood and Originium...
And gave birth to these creatures.
Does this... make you sad?
Amiya...
They're alive, Doctor.
They aren't chunks of rock, or constructs of witchcraft. They are living beings.
But, they obey only the call of the Confessarius. They do not feel any pain, nor do they cry for their fate.
People would normally call these creatures... 'monsters'.
That's right. Monsters.
Or alternatively... 'Chimeras'.
Who are you even mourning for?
For these mindless kin, or for yourself – the Chimera forced to wear a crown?
(Roars)
Amiya, are you being affected in any way?
Damn, more Confessarius witchcraft!
Doctor, I won't let the Confessarii trap me a second time.
I'm not so fragile as to let these illusions and nightmares get to me. That name, 'Chimera', is no different from those dream-interrogations. I've heard it many times before.
I have no right to be here, if I let myself get shaken by that.
Beyond that, however... I swore that I'd never let my immaturity drag you down again.
A tiny crown appears above the head of the Cautus girl.
Black lines interweave and take form between her fingers.
Your connection with the King is deepening.
...Amiya.
Don't be in such a hurry to leave.
These clones are nothing before my incantations, Damazti.
Or, as you once put it, 'it is time wasted'.
We remember. That performance, and that stroll.
We talked for quite some time.
That day you at least still considered yourself a lord of the Royal Court, despite having a different appearance.
What are you now?
We try to take on different identities.
But, these varying journeys have yet to provide us with an answer.
What we conclude is, the path has neither beginning nor end. It is a cycle.
And you sought out death to prove it.
At death's end, is nothingness.
The myriad souls you speak of have said nothing to us.
Banshee, how did it feel to sound the bone whistle for us?
'Shatter'.
—
There's no end to them.
This is all you can muster? You've lost a lot of bite after your first death.
The clone, destroyed by the incantation, does not dissipate into nothingness as before.
Instead, that body simply collapses, sinking into the Originium tides until it quickly disappears without a trace.
From it, a hand resembling a withered branch extends from within the crystal cluster.
'Sudaram'.
Banshee... You once killed me as well.
On the battlefield, I am not one of you.
In Kazdel, I was ordered to kill those who betrayed the Royal Court.
You got in my way, and separated my head from my shoulders with your incantations.
You were but a child then, with a puerile voice.
...I remember you.
The traitors you mentioned were a family of three who wanted to flee Kazdel in search of a peaceful life.
They swore an oath of fealty to the Royal Court.
The Royal Court should never be held above ordinary Sarkaz. You may have been a war hero of Kazdel once, but I cannot allow you to slaughter civilians.
So, you chose Babel, and Theresa... all for the sake of your so-called 'ordinary Sarkaz'.
That is the righteous path to the future.
But even after she died, you still didn't return to Kazdel!
You even helped those outsiders steal away the King of Sarkaz!
The inheritance of the King of Sarkaz was a decision made by Her Highness Theresa.
You killed me with your own hands.
When your incantations were coiling around my heart, strangling it... Haha, I couldn't believe it.
After fighting alongside each other for so many years, whatever you felt towards me paled in comparison to those outsiders.
The potted goldengrass you left behind on the ship is growing well now.
After Her Highness's death, how many comrades did you slay with your own hands during the internal strife that engulfed Babel?
The belongings left behind by so many people... I'm sure there's enough of 'em to fill your whole room, huh? Do you feel sorrow every time you look at that patch of grass I planted in that pot on a whim?
If I were to feel sorrow...
It would be because even death has denied you the solace you deserve.
Damazti, you were never so keen to dress yourself up as the 'dead' before.
This exchange of words cannot provide you with any answers, nor can probing my emotions.
The dead do not respond.
They continue to emerge from the dark crystal clusters.
Many faces, some familiar, others not. All of them Sarkaz.
Your innate abilities are resonating with the information stored inside the Originium.
Seeing as how your powers have grown thanks to the Originium–
Logos raises one hand.
No incantations are needed – just a low humming sound from the vibrating of the rock walls.
In a heartbeat, all of the Damazti's clones are shattered.
...
The Vampire stands there in the cave's depths, his expression almost identical to when he stood atop the Feranmut's skull that day.
However, it is no longer fresh blood that roils around him as before, but rather clusters of Originium crystal.
Logos can feel the blood in his body stirring.
The Sanguinarch of Vampires... Duq'arael.
You're not like the others. I know this.
You are not one of the Damazti's avatars.
Lord Damazti, this portion of you decided to assist Qui'sartuštaj.
No... We have no interest in helping anyone in particular. We are simply... searching for answers.
Kal'tsit, we have met you before. When the Sarkaz were not yet Sarkaz.
You walked across us.
I have no recollection of any such meeting.
At that time, we were unable to speak.
And then...
The first King of Teekaz came in contact with Originium.
That was our first 'awakening'.
The first individual rose up from among us.
We felt one another.
We had existed for an unknown amount of time before that. But, it was only at that moment when we became aware of our existence.
Because we began to 'think'.
Originium will assimilate all lifeforms it comes into contact with.
Not just you. But also the original Vampires, Banshees, and Wendigos... All Teekaz have changed. You are approaching the form of another entity that once existed on this land.
Then, what are you?
(Howls agitatedly)
It seems extremely averse to seeing another self.
Kal'tsit... the Immortal.
Do you still remember what you looked like at first?
The 'Immortal' is a figment of certain people's imaginations, and a misrepresentation of my self.
Time leaves its marks upon me all the same. The original entity by the name of 'Kal'tsit' has long been lost beneath the golden sands.
But, you are still yourself.
We were watching as you were reborn at Theresa's side.
You are different from your previous self, from your appearance to your personality.
We are used to constant change for the sake of survival.
Among the Sarkaz, the Damazti Cluster is unique. We once thought that you were like us.
We know many 'Kal'tsit', just as Kal'tsit knows many of us.
However, we will always be a whole. Each Damazti is a receptor for us to feel this land.
But, 'Kal'tsit' is different. Each Kal'tsit is still you.
I do believe that to be true.
Why?
Is it the inheritance of memory that makes you so persistent? Memory can be easily tampered with and implanted. This, we know, for many long-lived beings have tried such methods.
Such 'immortality' is nothing but an empty lie.
Then, is it some kind of duty...
I won't deny that my life has been duty-bound from the moment I was born.
Looking back, I don't think... I've ever truly been 'alive'.
The substances that make up your body have all been replaced. The memories inherited from your previous self are unreliable. The mission imposed upon you may not even be your own.
Kal'tsit, what is it that has kept the continuity of you across these thousands of years?
A name.
A unique name, or a title? It is a question that so many emotionally deprived Sarkaz would be keenly interested in.
This name, has many meanings.
The person who gave me this name, and the people I care about, are now in danger. This isn't the time for us to be having this chat.
We did not expect you to be this sentimental.
Mon3tr.
(Excited howl)