Arknights story · Critical Phase Transition
17-18 A Quiet Soul
Across countless years, AMa-10 witnesses the birth of Terran civilization and its maturation. In the end, she understands life and emotion, and chooses to become 'Kal'tsit'.
2 scenes, 588 lines
1. Before Operation
193 linesIf you ever have the chance to leave a snippet of language behind for civilizations to come, a language they can decipher, what would you choose?
Why ask that, all of a sudden? Is this the latest personality test you've found?
Let me give it a proper thought... How about the Esperanta Principle? A complete and universal language might be the best way for a civilization to advance to its next stage.
What about you?
Perhaps... a poem...
AMa-10's environmental adaptability test results are very promising. We may soon be able to take this little thing with us for a stroll on the surface.
Doctor... Oh, are you deciding which poetry anthologies to import into its storage module?
I think this might be what that generation, having lived through the age of silence, needed most. The life to come will need something to help them make it through the growing pains of civilization.
I considered installing a star chart consisting of trillions of stars in AMa-10's storage module as well, to show them the cosmos as it should be.
But it would be too large, too distant. The vastness of the firmament cannot soothe an immediate loneliness.
I hope that within these fragments of language, they see the beauty of the world, and hear the instinctual cries of life... and I hope they will recognize that these truly are beauties.
It might not have been part of AMa-10's original purpose, but I am rather fond of romantic plans such as this.
I know you've never hidden your partiality towards AMa-10 out of all our research projects, all because it most closely resembles life's form, correct?
I'm not sure... if this is the form life should have.
You placed your hopes in AMa-10, as well as the distant future. A rather heavy gift for them, is it not?
Perhaps we never had the right to gift anything to the people who come after, and we never will. We never owned the universe. We are simply vagrants in time's flow.
We expended all our time and knowledge, yet all our accomplishments were simply an attempt to demonstrate to our successors the value of life's continuation.
We've already found our own answers. I hope this thing is intelligent enough to understand its mission.
I am also looking forward to seeing how it will praise our poetry when relaying it to civilizations in the far future.
Will AMa-10 understand these poems?
I believe you will, won't you?
Live in hope, AMa-10. This is the greatest wish I can offer you.
We pushed ourselves to our limits, but we were still unable to part the deepest veil of the cosmos, the riddle of life.
We do not know why it arose in this vast universe, or why it is so easily snuffed out, like a candle's flame.
But you and yours may be able to push aside that veil, like the first man who discovered fire.
Live... Live, and you will see that future.
Outside the porthole, a matrix of countless co-orbiting satellites glisten and glimmer. The final beacon of civilization before eternal night descends. Upon this lonely ark, scholars still speak of hope.
But even so, the stars are fading away. Nobody can change this fact.
And then, the dark tide arrives on schedule. A simple streak of spray, and the afterglow of this once glorious civilization is extinguished.
...Then comes a very long wait.
You're still here, AMa-10.
Good, walk with me...
I'm the only one left, correct?
'Lynchpin'...
I cannot deny it. My actions are indeed a form of betrayal.
Is this your punishment for my transgressions? I am filled with regret... but I will accept it.
I have to see the world outside, see the current condition of this planet. I may still be able to find some surprising discoveries.
I'm afraid it will be very difficult for me to return here, but for the sake of giving this body of mine sufficient time to explore...
Maybe... I can find... another Sarcophagus...
The scholar steps onto a road that leads into the unknown.
The scholar is unaccustomed to talking, perhaps because the accompanying machine is similarly silent. A poor conversation partner, all things considered.
The scholar maintains this silence when observing everything across this great land, occasionally jumping in joy thanks to some minor discoveries.
Sometimes, the scholar will habitually shout, shouting at the valleys, shouting at the snowfields, shouting until a seizing up of the throat.
Language has lost all meaning. There is nothing to communicate with here, so naturally there are no people who can understand such actions of despair.
This great land never responds to the scholar's passion. It lies there, as quiet as the universe.
But most of the time, the scholar simply looks up at the star-strewn sky in silence.
The scholar might be able to recite the names of every single visible star. It is clear that the star chart that was unable to be saved in AMa-10's storage module now resides within that erudite mind.
'Look at all these stars, dying and being born. Perhaps we can decipher the poetry of the universe from their rhythm.'
The scholar extends a finger, tracing every journey among the stars with her upon the dark canvas of night. A game to while away time.
But time too has lost all meaning.
Until there comes a day, a day after a hundred thousand million nights on this planet.
A meteor streaks across the northwest sky, leaving a blazing scar across the heavens.
Ah... Ahh...!
The scholar stammers, tears of excitement streaking down weathered cheeks.
The scholar is overcome with joy, trembling while climbing, running, sprinting towards where the meteor fell, but then comes a stumble after a few steps.
The scholar no longer has the strength to complete this journey.
AMa-10... Help me up.
Yes... I'm too tired.
We should be leaving behind proof that life continues to have worth, not a silent gravestone.
I once thought that 'life', this word we created, might have some other definition somewhere else in the universe.
Relieving this confounding loneliness is not the only reason why we want to solve the riddle of life's origin...
'Life' might mean much more than us.
...
I believe in them. I believe in you, Kal'tsit.
Kal'tsit. I do not have much time left.
Search for traces of life. Search for hope and a future.
Kal'tsit... Go find your own answer.
Find yourself.
And so, the scholar returns to that silent, rigid coffin.
The intricate machine halts by the side of the Sarcophagus. It requires some time to slowly process the scholar's parting words.
It waits, a wait as long as the last one, perhaps longer, until it finally believes the one reclining within the Sarcophagus will not awake within the 'short term'.
It thinks about the task the scholar left it.
And so, its only choice is to set off.
During its wait, Originium spread itself throughout every corner of the planet. What it sees is no longer familiar to it.
From the planet's south it leaves, heading northwards.
It wants to find traces of that meteor that brought hope.
Finally, at the furthest reaches of the land's north, it discovers signs of plant seeds being piled together.
Signs of life.
(Unknown language) Hello.
(Imitating sound)
(Unknown language) I can search for the closest water source with you.
(Perplexed sound)
Do not be afraid. This is your home.
This is Terra.
Kal'tsit! Kal'tsit!
I helped you find these, so you should help us exterminate all those long-furred beasts creeping around!
They seized most of the forest's water, along with the fruit!
You should help us wipe them out!
I will do no such thing.
Why not?!
An intervention from an external force will warp the development of civilization. This runs counter to my mission.
But I helped you find lots of bugs you need for your 'research' thing!
Thank you, but I still cannot help you. I am sorry.
I don't understand a thing you're saying! What's a 'mission'? What's this 'civilization' you mentioned, Kal'tsit?
I suppose you can call it... a type of order.
It exists in many forms, with no simple definition.
It is an ordering of life that arises naturally, the objective consequence of life's actions. The word 'civilization' is merely a summary of this transient phenomenon.
It is everything a community requires to continue on. It can offer life protection, but it is exceedingly fragile in itself.
Like a nest that gets blown over in a gust of wind.
Indeed.
But surely you agree with me that when it comes to building nests, you should ask us fliers to make it, right? That's what we're good at!
I promise you! As long as you help us drive out those furry beasts so we can secure this patch of forest, we'll help you build this 'nest' of yours!
All life is equal. I will not deprive any community the chance to multiply and expand.
How could those ugly things possibly be equal to us? They haven't even learned your language!
I am afraid that is not the only factor I have to consider when making a judgment.
You really are a stupid animal, you know?
Wait... What's this? I didn't think there would be so many of these black rocks buried inside the mountain. I've never seen rocks like these before!
What kind of rock is this, Kal'tsit?
...
It was a day more than two thousand years after Oracle fell into slumber.
In a northern corner of the land, the newborn life upon this planet discovered something Oracle was never able to find...
Another Sarcophagus.
Let's call it here, Kal'tsit.
Why?
We agreed to use the Sarcophagus to heal your wounds.
We are close.
Even if you do heal me, I'm just an ancient chicken. I've never met a chicken who's lived as long as me.
Your flock still needs you right now.
I need you to give them a warning, otherwise this cold winter will kill them all.
Is this... my 'mission'?
I have no way of forcing you to do this.
Save it, Kal'tsit...
I don't want to... become like you.
...
Don't get me wrong, Kal'tsit. I like you, even though I don't like this four-legged furry form you've taken on.
But... I am very tired. Every single feather on me aches. I don't want to fly anymore.
I hope you never learn what this feels like.
Kal'tsit... Did you ever find that 'nest' of yours?
I am not sure.
This land is now marked by the footprints of many lifeforms, but their actions have yet to surpass primitive instinct.
If you don't have one, how will you make it through the winter?
It's so cold... Kal'tsit, is there anything you can do to make me feel better?
I can recite you a poem.
Oh, those 'spells' I don't understand a word of again.
Fine, go ahead... Listening to you beats hearing the wind screaming in my ear.
People pour love into life and long for salvation whether in hope or fear. That's why they choose to pray to gods that they've never seen...
—That life may never end.
But how could it come true? Even the most tired river must eventually flow into the ocean.
When the final moment comes, when sun, moon and stars fade... when the swaying waves no longer murmur, when all sound and sights are gone.
When the colors of winter and spring are no more, and the boundary of night and day blurs—
And only eternal slumber in endless night remains.
Bye bye, Kal'tsit.
Here, the bird ends its unended journey. The only thing she can do is bury her long-time companion in the tundra, not far from the Sarcophagus.
She was unable to find another in its community she could communicate with, and without a timely warning, the flock did not survive the winter.
Yet another long, long, long span of time passes.
It is a tribe who has learned to wield spears that rediscover this relic.
These Ancients who found it considered it divine, kneeling before it in prayer day and night. But news of the relic spread quickly, attracting other tribes.
People treated this inscrutable artifact as something more precious than water. They argued with each other in languages the others did not understand. The conflict quickly turned deadly, resulting in a massacre.
The first tribe to discover the relic was the first to be driven away, barely a tenth of their number left to take the tribe's children somewhere far, far away.
The last tribe standing paid a bitter price as well. Before they could celebrate their victory, a plague born from the corpses strewn everywhere killed every single survivor.
None of this should have happened... but how was it supposed to be stopped?
Is this the civilization that should be protected?
Perhaps it is not that they are inferior, but that they cannot make rational choices based only on the knowledge they have.
Perhaps the only thing separating them from past glory is time. One should not yet conclude that this young civilization ought to be abandoned.
But why... does all of this feel so sorrowful?
Perhaps... try inscribing all knowledge related to the Sarcophagus on this cliff.
From the most basic of mathematics, to the laws governing the flow of energy through the universe... No, start with the most basic semiotics.
She wants to carve all these knowledge-laden characters onto the rocks.
Once more people discover this relic of the past, they will understand what they must do is study, not engage in meaningless murder.
...But this mountain is far too small.
Far, far too small, too small to contain so long a time.
She has no other choice but to take this heavy gift from the prior civilization, and bury it deep underground once more.
It's close by.
Are you sure you wish to do this?
Of course I do. I once held the land in the palm of my hand, but now, I have nothing. All I have left is sincerity shining bright.
I believe I now understand. There is no eternal king upon this land. I only seek a long life, long enough for me to ponder the truth of this great land.
O great prophet, eternal sage, my most beloved of stars... Please, tell me...
I have conquered vast swaths of territory, plundered more grain and riches than I can enjoy in one lifetime, and the people of my kingdom shall forever praise my name.
...But why do I still feel so lost? Do our lives have a purpose beyond these things?
I am sorry, but I do not know the answer to this question.
If even you are unable to answer it, then I fear nobody on this land can.
Then, if I enter this coffin, will I be able to find it?
If you enter, you may not obtain the answer you desire.
But you will certainly lose everything you have. You will sever your connection with everything in this world.
You will no longer be able to live as a 'man'.
Perhaps that is what I need.
The king enters the coffin without the slightest hesitation.
Not long after, it reopens, and a creature with a pair of great wings flies out from within. The form that life took millennia ago.
The Elder, having gained its freedom, spirals through the sky, peering out over the land beneath its feet for a long, long time. Eventually, it lets out a resounding cry before charging through the clouds, never to be seen again.
It has been a while, Kal'tsit.
I came to seek your aid.
The contamination leaking from the northern stargate grows graver by the day. It is an issue the people of today are unable to handle.
If you do not help, this threat from without will extinguish all life in this land.
You really have changed, Kal'tsit.
The old you wouldn't have gotten involved in the survival of these young peoples so readily.
This land is a cruel land, not affording these immature civilizations the slightest kindness.
Life on Terra needs help.
Am I hearing the invitation of a guardian of civilization, or the request of a Terran, Kal'tsit?
I am simply a beacon asking for your help, in place of a civilization teetering on the brink.
By this measure, who I am is unimportant.
You were always in the habit of standing apart, Kal'tsit... I still remember how you looked when you first set foot upon this land millennia ago. You looked completely different back then.
Your current appearance... Time has molded you, Kal'tsit.
The age-old wanderer lowers her head. A mirror-sheen lake reflects a sky full of stars, alongside a face speckled with hints of weariness.
2. After Operation
395 linesQuick...
I found her...
She broke her connection with that space just now, information flow is rapidly dwindling—
Come and help me out here, Mon3tr! I'm going to cut-and-paste all of Kal'tsit's base-level code out, I can't afford to leave a single line behind!
Data dump storage in position. Now, imagine this is a piece of hundred-percent reliable equipment...
I can't imagine something like that—
Then think of a way to use that telepathic link of yours to help me stabilize this weird code!
What are you even talking about?!
What I mean is, hold it steady!
Within the ad-hoc data dump storage, coded to be transparent, green 'calcite' emits a dazzling radiance.
—!
We did it... I can feel it.
......
It's amazing, isn't it? Both Kal'tsit and I used to be this small.
Closure does not immediately move to speak.
She does not even blink, staring at the storage's information display as it performs its pre-installed diagnostics, until she can confirm the code's self-cycling thread is still running.
The true end of the code relocation.
Oh, thank goodness! The Sarcophagus's energy output is stabilizing too!
But this is just the first step. This temporary storage has limited separation abilities, we can't keep Kal'tsit in there forever. Next, we need to find a relatively quiet environment—
Why the cluck is it so damn dark in here?!
......?
Ah, I think I can see—
...People?
Is this another infected lifeform?
Can infected lifeforms... speak?
I can sense soldiers outside attacking this place, Doctor. And this isn't the space we were just in, we've returned to where we started—
Hmm? What is this?
That's rich coming from a girl with rabbit ears growing out of her head. What, never seen a chicken before?
This thing wasn't here when we came in!
Stop shouting, you're giving me a headache!
Listen, I'm no 'infected lifeform', and I'm no 'thing' either! I'm a chicken, a hen! Is that so hard to understand?
That term sounds rather familiar...
But you look like a little house.
Shush!
(Shakes feathers) (Looks around)
Something's not right...
Didn't Kal'tsit bury me outside that black thing? Explain to me both why I'm not dead, and why I woke up inside this thing.
This is the Sarcophagus's 'observation room'.
Welcome to ten thousand years in the future.
(Indescribable barrage of clucks) WHAT—
First, we need to think of a way to get out of here.
This miniature house knew Kal'tsit, we need to take it with us.
Err...
Did you... stop the Sarcophagus?
Wait, how did you get in here? I thought you stayed up top—
You walked away so fast, I didn't have the chance to ask... That ID code of yours means you must know Lada, right?
Are you... Are you her father? And the one who helped Closure get in?
Then you must know Alita Valueva—
The man shakes his head, letting out a distracted smile.
That's my Lita. I never could keep up with her.
......
Oh, you were asking about the Sarcophagus, right? Let me see...
It's currently stabilizing. The weaponized modules melted down during the energy offset. Right now, the energy output module is the only one still operating.
Ah, that's... that's great to hear. Lita always made the right choice.
You saved a lot of people. I should... I should thank you.
We should thank you too. Once we sort everything out here—
You should leave immediately. The First Army is about to abandon this place.
When I was outside, their comms often mentioned.. the Fourth Army.
But isn't the Fourth Army still at the borders of the Central Governorate?
Are they coming to take the Sarcophagus?!
I don't know... Nobody knows all the details.
We can't let any of the Armies get their hands on the Sarcophagus.
We need a way to hide it for the time being.
The energy gathered within has one logical outlet.
We can use this outlet to drop the energy reaction to its minimum.
...You've thoroughly gathered information, and you're rather intelligent.
Alright, leave this to me. You should escape, and go do what you're supposed to do.
Are you going to stay here by yourself?!
This place is getting blasted by cannons! We can deal with it together, then get out of here together!
Enough...
My wife died here... At least give us one last bit of alone time.
But—
...I might not look it, but I'm actually one of the researchers here, too.
Now that some are dead and the rest have fled, I must stay and see this place through to the very end...
That is my responsibility.
A large hole has been blasted into the stone wall's gate. First, dozens of people emerge on foot. Then come simple carts and stretchers...
Do a headcount, quick. Make sure all our people and the rescued Infected are accounted for.
We're in luck. The defenders are retreating, so there's nobody who can stop us now.
As the last of the people make it to the other side of the wall, a figure slowly appears from the dust.
That's where the problem lies. They retreated far too easily.
Not to mention the firepower and manpower we faced when we stormed the place isn't up to the standards of what a secret military installation would have. It's like they're deliberately withdrawing.
...And before we entered, some of the soldiers outside didn't even try to attack the evacuating Infected.
I don't know if they're dealing with internal issues, or if they want to scoop us all up at once. We need to leave right away, just to be safe—
An artillery shell nearly scrapes the top of Talulah's head as it screams towards the back of the procession.
Crying and weeping break out all around her. She looks towards where the shell came from—spotting the command bridge of a towering warship, the flag of the First Army raised high above it.
Bombarding their own damn city...
Tell everyone to retreat using the route we planned out! I'll find a way to draw their attention!
Talulah—
Just go already!
A second shell crashes into the ground, then a third... Rubble falls, the wall collapses, and the weakened Infected who just barely escaped death now only have the strength to wipe away their tears.
Members of Reunion rush about, half-dragging, half-supporting the Infected as they leave this place. Only one person watches the distant artillery barrage, stopping in her tracks.
......
Sirka? It's dangerous here, you need to evac with us, quickly.
No, you all go first.
I have something I need to retrieve, forgot it in the Generalik's residence.
Generalik! Please wait, Generalik! Please check your private channel, the Marshal is looking for you.
Out of the way! All of you!
Before you use my mother to threaten me, you should take a good, long look at your medals! Are useless wretches who quiver at the sight of a few traitors fit to call themselves soldiers of Ursus?!
What are you doing here, Generalik—
Who is manning the cannons? Have your worthless fingers degenerated to the point they can only be used to play cards?
I-I can explain—
Don't think you can hide your dereliction of duty from me. Why are you not concentrating your fire on the gate? Why are the main cannons not yet ready to fire?
We're not being negligent, Generalik. It's only been ten minutes since the order to retreat was issued. If we fire the main cannons now, many of the men still in the sealed district will be—
There's still plenty of traitors in there too! According to the itinerary I drew up, as long as they're not stupid enough to shoot themselves in the foot, any friendly fire will still be within controllable limits.
I am tired of you using your bleeding hearts as an excuse, Lieutenant Colonel Bondarenko.
...Ah—
A shining saber digs into the officer's neck.
Zelgrad is my city, but do not forget that it is also Ursus's city. Each grain of rye you swallowed since the day you enlisted was so that you would obey my every order today.
Generalik, urk—
I'll give you one last chance, Bondarenko. I want to see the main cannons ready in five minutes.
Remember, there's more than one gunnery officer in the First Army!
...Ahem, Marshal, i-it's me... A thousand pardons, I know this is the Generalik's private channel...
Generalik, I dare not hang up on the Marshal. Please, take the call.
...Give it here, then get out of my face.
'Soldier of the First Army', hah, what a worthless honor...
Respect those below you, Anatoliy. This is not the first time I had to remind you.
But there is a more pressing matter at hand. You promised me, did you not? All you were to do was obtain the data on the Sarcophagus, then return immediately.
Mother... I tried my best to get the results you wanted dearly.
But you made me sit back and watch as those marrow-sucking parasites crawled all over my city, made me stand shoulder-to-shoulder with abject cowards, fleeing in disgrace—
You really do want to take my life.
Everything I have done was to keep you away from this meaningless battle, my dear.
The Fourth Army approaches Zelgrad even now. Do you want me to look on helplessly as my own son is drawn into this fetid swamp?
The Fourth Army... Haha, what difference is there between them and those traitors in the city? They have all turned their backs on this great empire, turned their backs on the creed you once taught me.
You were always molding me into a loyal pet, Mother... So why is it you who let go first?
......
...Bzzt...
......?
Talulah stops mid-sprint, looking at the distant giant as large as a mountain.
At first, she wanted to find an empty yet conspicuous place where she could release her Arts, using her own retreat to provoke the First Army and draw their attention.
However, all sound suddenly disappears from the warship. Not even the deployed secondary cannons make a move.
What is going on...?
...You repeat that?
You didn't mishear me. I am in your residence in the sealed district, using your private frequency to speak with you.
I am the spy dispatched by the Fourth Army—
Y-You're the one who tried to assassinate me that day.
Indeed. That is how Marshal Kuznetsov does things. Every important figure in the First Army is on his list. He has been plotting for three entire years.
So are you begging me to throw you a lifeline now?
I beg that you cease fire for a moment, until the First Army can pick me up on your ship. As you and the Marshal had promised earlier.
Naturally, you will not only be saving my life... I am hesitant to say this, but I harbor a deep-seated hatred for Marshal Kuznetsov.
Young lady, if you have concealed the information I require out of 'hesitance', then I am more than happy to restart the artillery.
Why do you think we can trust a thief and assassin who has barged into our home?
Your High Excellency, I am willing to give you all the details and spend an entire day verifying my identity, but the march of the Fourth Army will not stop.
I have a more effective method in mind: I will directly access Marshal Kuznetsov's private channels, and lead him into saying what you wish to know.
?!
Wait—
...Yevsey? What news?
Marshal Kuznetsov, I am a spy in contact with Yevsey. Due to an emergency, I had to borrow his comms equipment.
I must first verify your identity.
I am the informant he planted in Zelgrad. My identification code was sent to the command center five minutes ago.
......
'Emergency', you say?
The city is falling into chaos, and I have lost contact with him for the time being.
Civil unrest in Zelgrad?
Very good. Continue your report.
Many rebels of unknown identity infiltrated Zelgrad. They contacted the city's Infected, then launched an attack on the sealed district.
Part of the city garrison seem to be playing along, refusing to meet their challenge. The Generalik appears to be planning to abandon the city.
(Deep breath)
A mutiny is brewing within the troops. A familiar situation, perhaps due to some outside influence.
Do you still remember the mutiny of the Cassian? Those troops who always supported your father to the last, but could not accept your military reforms.
Ancient history. They have already paid the price for their rashness.
Hardly a secret within the Fourth Army. My father left behind many festering boils. Many of our current policies had to be enacted to resolve the mess.
If I may be so bold, are these 'festering boils'... 'debts of love'?
...Surely your intelligence has nothing to do with such flimsy hearsay?
I fear they are related.
The entire Ursine aristocracy knew your father. Marshal Andrian was a model soldier of the empire. Loyal, determined, stubborn, and crude...
But they also knew he was one of the empire's most prolific lovers. The captain of the Cassian was his last sweetheart's nephew.
Right now, rumors are spreading that ten or so years ago, when army officials were in Grypherburg to report to the Tsar, he and General Svetlana Ulyanova Buterina, not yet Marshal—
Enough prattling! Where are you going with this?
(Grits teeth)
Though you have done all you could in the name of your family's honor, even killing your own father with your own hands without hesitation, to prove that such wantonness does not run in the blood...
—!
I regret to inform you that there are still those who do not approve of your methods, who are trying to deprive you of your inheritance, sir.
So much so that you were never able to find the illegitimate daughter that Marshal Andrian carefully safeguarded, a wretched Kuranta... who is now in Zelgrad.
...Who are you?! Your voice—
More importantly, if you do not seize the chance to invade Zelgrad and silence her, she will soon bring proof of those 'rumors' to your loyal troops.
When that time comes, your authority—
ENOUGH!
Distorting facts, trying to rile me into attacking the First Army—I do not know how you found Yevsey, but you have signed your own death warrant.
Hmm...
It is as you heard, Marshal Svetlana Ulyanova, General Anatoliy Svetlanov—
Suka!
Anatoliy—
Enough, Mother! I've had enough! That filthy mongrel spawned by Andrian has dared to slander the Marshal of the First Army.
I swear, I will kill you in the most miserable, humiliating way possible with my own hands! I will drown you in your own blood and see how long a khuyovy bastard like you can last in it!
Oh, Generalik, sir, I've been meaning to ask, have you ever met your father?
Perhaps one day, we will meet again thanks to this shared blood of ours... brother dearest.
Mother...
Do not be so easily deceived, Anatoliy. She merely wanted to goad you, though what her true goal is we can only—
Lieutenant!
...Yes, Generalik?
Relay the order, all men who are able to mobilize are to head to the sealed district to capture that woman.
B-But we no longer have—
You won't live long! YOU HEAR ME?!
......
Don't rush, elderly and children first!
Raspy throats continue to cry out. Those helping with the evacuation divide themselves between both sides of the road, watching the people walk past them.
Intermittent explosions go off in the distance. The ground beneath their feet shakes. Some of the crowd seem afraid, but most of them stare ahead blankly, clutching bundles of their belongings tight.
Hey, don't go against the flow, that's dangerous!
Also, wear your gas masks as much as possible if you've got one, otherwise cover your mouth and nose with a towel! And don't touch any strange-looking animals—
Hmm? What is it, Lyudmila?
This lady's fainted, got space on your cart?
Should be able to fit one more. Let's try it.
Lyudmila crouches down, passing the unconscious person on her back to them.
Lyudmila! Come over to the front, quick! Tulin might be in trouble!
Got it.
...We meet again, Ratkov.
I shouldn't let you go free.
My orders are to purge the traitors in the city.
By traitors, do you mean the people behind me?
All they want to do is save their own lives, those lives they have devoted to Zelgrad and Ursus. Surely this is not treason?
There is still a chance, Ratkov—
As she speaks, the soldiers in front of her suddenly lift their weapons. Several crossbow bolts fire towards the space behind her.
Tulin subconsciously shrinks back. She turns her head to see Lyudmila standing behind her, effortlessly brushing away the bolts.
I was talking about her... but as you can see, we failed.
A lot of people are saying Reunion's here. The way we see it, the First Army's defenses won't be enough to hold them back.
If the Generalik still has a way to deal with them, then let him think about it.
For us, we've decided to retreat.
The soldier named Ratkov steps forward, grasping a folded-up plan. He shoves it into Tulin's hand.
Then, to the amazement of Tulin's followers, an entire company of soldiers lines up and marches away towards the left of the city gates. They march in silence, and the only sound they make is the tread of their boots.
He just decided that all on his own. Or rather, they did.
......
...What is it, Tulin?
She sees Tulin unfold the piece of paper, hands shaking slightly as the eyes sweep across the dense mass of characters—eyes that are scattered, unfocused.
The paper tilts, then is straightened up. Tulin blinks rapidly.
Need help?
Ah, Lyudmila...
Could you... help me read what it says here? I'm having some...
...'The control room for the gates is on the east side, needs a standard password, check the appendix'. This is a guide on how to use the gates.
I see. Hand it over to my people. We can leave soon.
Some miners take the paper and leave. Tulin lets out a deep sigh.
Spasibo, Lyudmila. When I saw those letters, and how crowded together they were...
And here I was thinking you were a bookworm.
I really am interested in the knowledge and tales within books, but most of the time, I need someone to help read it out loud. Because of that, I've always learned a little more slowly than others.
......
But... 'Ivan Tulin'...
Ivan Tulin is a prolific author. Out of all the Ursine writers in the last few years, nobody wrote better than him, or more.
University students in Grypherburg love discussing the complex, finely crafted quotations in his books, always proclaiming how well-read Ivan Tulin is.
......
You're—
We did it, Tulin!
...Right.
Everyone! Listen well, for we are leaving Zelgrad!
Great cheers echo through the city, as the people rush through the heavy gates.
Some lift their arms in joy, some kneel to caress the soil outside the city, smiling as tears form in their eyes, weeping even as the corners of their mouths turn upwards.
They look back at the road that brought them here, then turn forward once more, their footsteps ringing out in heavy, muffled echoes.
Once everyone has faded into the dusty distance, Tulin's throat quivers with a sigh barely audible to anyone.
Crownslayer sees Tulin turn away, though the hand gripping the pickaxe relaxes a little.
...Lyudmila, I'll need to find some other time to discuss the tale of that author with you further.
Many years ago, he was forced to leave us. Eventually, even I lost all contact with him.
Ursus may have mocked him, banished him, even killed him... but could never destroy him.
Because we are still here, and we still have tomorrow.
Twilight creeps up Tulin's determined face, those quiet words slowly lost to the wind.
At least... I made it until the Morvan fell apart.
Hah... Time for you to fight fair for once.
*cough*—
It seems you have no need for your many comrades' lives.
Get away from him!
(Ancient Ursine dialect) 'May his hand misheed its master's will, may his blade strike his own body down.'
Argh—!
The unsheathed chachek suddenly swings towards its wielder's neck, the sharp edge moments away from chopping through bone—
Scioppa
You—
Scioppa
I... Scioppa—
Get behind me, Oleg.
And here I thought you merely a dabbler in Arts. I never expected...
You may live, but you cannot escape your fate. This means you need to die, a greater need than ever before.
You should've made those words into one of your spells, 'comrade'.
But I'm not going to give you guys the chance. I know you can use silent incantations, but you're not going to be better than me at old-fashioned swift-casting.
Scioppa
—!
At nearly the exact same moment, countless vicious bolts of energy burst forth from the war caster, filling the entirety of the silenced space.
Every single piercing note created in an attempt to break the shackles of the spell is swallowed up into nothingness.
Get everyone out of the command center, Oleg.
I can buy you two minutes at most—
—Such... feeble incantations—
Impudent parlor tricks!
(Ancient Ursine dialect) 'I shall have thee suffer, have thee walk an endless road, where even water pure cannot wash the filth off thy body—'
(Ancient Ursine dialect) 'Where even death shall grant thee no peace!'
......
Quick—
The adjutant quickly blurs in the Volnik chieftain's eyes, turning into stacks of blue, before becoming an endless white.
Extreme pain shoots through every cell in his body. Before his strength to resist is exhausted, he opens his mouth—
......
The final syllable of the incantation drops into place. Violet flames, so deep as to seem black, suddenly spring up, engulfing both sides of the duel.
—Hey—
Hey, wake up! Scioppa! Chief!
...What...
I thought I was supposed to be meeting the Viy... What are you doing here?
*cough* *cough*! If I accidentally took you and the others with me—
You're not dead, and you didn't take anyone anywhere! I'm fine, feeling a little pain at most, but fine, really.
...I'm not dead?
Of course you're not! You jabbered on a bunch, then the entire khuyovy cabin went up in flames.
But that black fire quickly died out, and those war casters disappeared.
......
They retreated. Why?
No idea, but it's a good thing all the same. I thought you burned them to death, to be honest.
I couldn't do it.
What're you talking about? You said you met the Viy, but I saw it slam the door in your face because of how much better you are than it!
...Hmph.
What's there left to say at this point? Well, I say, have everyone ready to leave the ship ASAP!
Huh? You still—
That's right. I still need to give Kuznetsov one last parting gift.
Up upon the highest deck of the ship, the Kuranta watches his troops line up in formation in pensive silence.
The canyon chill blows past, blowing away the dust accumulated from days of regret, blowing away the watchman's fluttering thoughts.
......
You certain about this? There's still time to tell everyone to get back to their posts.
I'm going to teach that man a lesson, so that he'll never look down on us again.
When everything's settled, I'll find you all.
When everything's settled, huh... Will there really be a day when all our affairs are settled?
There will be. There must.
Even matters that have gone unresolved for centuries will finally have their answer.
The sun slants towards the west. Most of the soldiers take the scenic route, all to have more time to call out to the ones on deck.
Almost everyone leaving the Volnov looks for their chieftain to say goodbye, as if this is just their summer vacation, simply a short trip back to their hometowns—
Back to the fields, the forested mountains, the banks of a creek, laden with reeds.
Who's the bad guy you're meeting, who's so bad you can't bring us along, Boss? A giant, Baba, or the Viy?
Well, no matter who it is, I'll sing you a song before you go! The one Oleg said you never finished singing—
At the end of the road lies the Viy, not the tsar or any god I know♪
Just a monster of body big, whose eyelids need others to hold♪
Prayers? It hears no such thing, and those that meet it know it makes no sense♪
All they do is plop themselves down, like taking off armor they'll never put on again♪
When the Viy opens its eyes, you it sure won't see♪
All it sees is—♪
How your gift once made you you♪
At times it's war, a hate that spans the ages♪
At times it's a field that paid Catastrophe's wages♪
That wailing and weeping that never end, not even in dream♪
And once its eyelids droop down once more♪
You'll find some things have quietly changed♪
The river dry flows free once more♪
The children dead come home once more♪
All of these are impossible things♪
Which is why we won't sing for those going to the Viy's home♪
And why we won't carve their tale in stone♪
We pour wine on the ground, and with voices low we say♪
He's going down to the end of the road, all in our name♪
Up until the second day when the sun shall rise again♪
Still we advance, draw our blades, cut down our foes♪
Still we bleed, fall to the floor, bury our dead with woe♪
Still, history pushes us, back onto our own blades we go!
The Rhodes Islanders, accompanied by one noisy 'miniature house', finally emerge from underground after following Klim's hand-drawn map.
They find themselves within a secluded ornamental forest, where they are greeted by a bright blue sky.
...In short, I don't know how I got there either.
Like you said, this is long after my era, which means I don't really have anywhere to go. But, looking at it another way, it means I can go anywhere.
Hey, Closure, show me that 'mirror' thing, let me get a good look at my current body—
You said you were buried near the Sarcophagus, and there was an Originium mine near the Sarcophagus's excavation site, which was one of the reasons why Chernobog was able to develop so quickly despite being in Ursus's wild east.
......
Some remains, an Originium mine, the former Sarcophagus... the 'mini-house', some blank Originium I accidentally spilled, and the 'prototype' whose functionality was disassembled...
...I got it. I got it!
Maybe I can try—
No, I need to try.
Closure?
Closure stops, rummaging through her bag before magicking out a foldable screen. She deploys it, then continues pulling out more strange things normally only seen in Engineering's offices.
She sits down on the ground, as the miniature house hops over inquisitively.
What did you figure out? If it's to do with Kal'tsit, then I haven't even mentioned her yet.
I know she's dead, obviously. I knew this day would come sooner or later. Not even someone like her is an exception. But tell me, what bright idea did you stumble on?
Did you figure out what your tests were lacking, Closure?
Yep. I also know how to bring her back.
The Sarcophagus as both energy source and life pod. Memories formed from Kal'tsit's original data. Blank Originium, i.e., Oka, as a structural base... then add the base-level code we just found.
I've been treating the resurrection experiments as a biological problem this entire time. I never thought of life as a long-running program until now. It's not static code.
Maybe what makes Kal'tsit unique is precisely her self-modification command. Rather than just being a structural alteration as designed, it also set up a self-invoking closed loop.
Inside that information flow space, I saw a few things.
If we go with your metaphor—
Kal'tsit chose to maintain this 'closed loop' of her own accord.
...Maybe from the moment she set up the closed loop, she was no longer just an executed program. She began to upgrade herself, to iterate.
Then that very first self-modification command can be said to be the start of her 'awareness'.
I'll admit, I don't really get stuff of the 'revenants'... But if, say, something has been carved onto the deepest part of her soul, or if that something represents her will as a person—
Then it has to be that command.
...
...
I understand.
Time to get to work, Closure.
Closure takes out the storage containing the data extracted from the Sarcophagus, and attaches it to a hard disk and heat sink.
Black cables stretch out from an ad-hoc computer case, linking to a support rack cobbled together from a glass cabin.
The 'calcite' representing the base-level code cannot be extracted from the data dump storage, so it is pinned to the center of the open space.
Oka is kept within transparent glass tubes, a little less compared to when the team set out.
A portable life pod is deployed, and within the open space, the borders of a simulated Sarcophagus data environment are delineated, like a 'pond' of pure white.
With everything ready, Closure starts the power, and waits for the screen to light up.
......
System booting...
Her eyes are locked to the screen as she taps out the last few commands, not hesitating for even a second.
Everything had to be done speedily and smoothly for this experiment to work.
Biological model construction—————100%
Physiological function simulation—————100%
...
Neuron data upload—————100%
—!
Did it...
......
The prompt they had never seen before finally leaps onto the screen. Everyone holds their breath.
Initiate life-phase transition?
Several pairs of eager eyes look towards Closure.
She presses 'Yes'.
Welcome back.
Kal'tsit.