Morimens story · Main Story
Last Symphony
23 scenes, 1,318 lines
1. Entry, before the fight
105 linesDing...
A crisp bell rings, accompanied by the distant laughter of Mythag students, startling a flock of birds perched on the rooftops.
As dusk settles, the hazy light filters past the founder's statue, casting a glow on Lotan's face.
Nice weather for once. Ogier, come spar with me.
Lady Lotan, our patrol isn't over yet.
You're great in every way, except you take things way too seriously.
We have this rare downtime, we have to do something fun, or it will be completely boring.
Lotan leans back on the bench, tilting her head and stretching her joints.
Mythag's been hit with one mess after another ever since the Keygrave Ceremony.
Fighting worthy opponents is great, but hey, a little break isn't bad either.
Ogier sets down his spear, stepping aside, a slight frown creasing his brow.
Speaking of which... Lady Lotan, don't you think these incidents have been piling up too frequently lately?
From the workhouse and the wax museum, to Rye, the Sona-Nyl, and the Holy River of Remouahe...
These incidents have kept happening since my lord became a Keeper. This doesn't look like a coincidence.
Doll mentioned something like that to me, but I'm not interested in it.
Leave the brainy stuff to Doll and the others. That's not our job.
Lotan casually rests her hand on the massive sword standing beside her.
The Keeper guides Mythag down the right path. All I need to do is show up with my sword when {Male=he,Female=she} needs me.
Well said, Lady Lotan! I believe my lord will find a way to defeat Dissolution. Mythag's peace is the best proof of that!
Ogier glances back at the serene campus, full of anticipation, and picks up his spear again.
Let's go, Lady Lotan. I know plenty of fun knightly games. Once today's patrol is done, we can invite my lord to join...
If we may, could you include us as well?
(!!!)
Ogier whirls around abruptly.
Mythag's gates open silently, and from the thick fog that should separate the university from the outside world, a group emerges slowly.
On their uniforms, the emblem of the Mystia Treaty Committee is plainly visible.
You... who are you?
The lead agent pulls a sheet of paper bearing a seal and intricate patterns from his coat, handing it to Ogier.
Investigations reveal that Mythag members, led by Alistair, are conducting illegal Dissolution research using the Black Pool, posing a severe threat to the safety of Leonian citizens.
The Mystia Treaty Committee's special operations team is hereby ordered to assume control of Mythag and arrest the violators.
The Committee... criminals... but we've never received any notice!
The Committee does not report to your institution, kid.
Is that so? But I recall Mythag's rules are different.
Lotan stands, sword in hand.
I don't know how you got through the fog outside, and I bet you won't confess before I beat it out of you.
It's our policy. Anyone barging in without permission, no matter who they are, is treated as an intruder.
Watch your words, ma'am. You're speaking to the Committee!
Sorry, I flunked general studies. The Committee... what's that?
(!!!)
Before he can react, Lotan is already behind him.
Ogier follows suit instinctively, raising his shield behind her.
Mythag isn't some place you waltz into whenever you feel like it, punk.
Lotan inverts her greatsword, swinging the hilt with unstoppable force at the Committee Leader...
Ding...
Quell your rage. Listen to the voice deep within your mind.
Sink into peaceful slumber, my friend. All this turmoil has nothing to do with you...
A clear chime echoes from somewhere unknown, faint and distant, yet piercingly clear in their ears.
Lotan's and Ogier's weapons clatter to the ground. The two, caught off guard, lose all strength the moment the chime hits them.
An overwhelming drowsiness washes over them. They struggle to keep their eyes open.
In their blurred vision, a woman's silhouette emerges slowly from the fog.
Impressive, as expected from Mythag. The scenery here is as enchanting as the rumors say.
You... who are you?
We've met once before, though I doubt you remember, young sir.
The workhouse... the psychologist...
Ah, to be remembered after so long, what an honor.
I'm sorry for not greeting you sooner. But facing Mythag's Awakeners head-on for a forced entry did require some little tricks.
Rest well now.
She gently pats Lotan and Ogier's heads. They can hold on no longer and slip into unconsciousness.
Clementine stands, raising her arm slightly, pointing toward Mythag's interior.
Time for this secluded campus to face its destiny at last.
Operation Mythag Infiltration, commence.
Twelve yards away, Hannah hides in the bushes, clamping her mouth shut, not daring to make a sound.
Through gaps in the foliage, she watches Clementine and the Committee members split off toward Mythag's depths.
This is bad... really bad...
Gotta warn everyone... and %player%!
...
The conductor's baton traces a melodious arc through the air. The movement reaches its coda.
The intense chords and intricate polyphony weave a breathtaking sonic landscape that subsides.
Flute and harp arpeggios drift out softly, like twilight brushing the clouds.
The harmonious, lingering chord fades into the air, the final string rest bringing the notes to a close.
In this lingering moment, the conductor tucks away his baton. He counts silently.
Ten seconds: the audience, entranced by the music, plunges the theater into a dawn-like silence.
One minute fifteen: applause erupts like thunder, resounding endlessly before gradually dying away.
Twenty-five minutes: the orchestra and audience complete their exit.
The timing matches his predictions exactly, like a second-precise performance.
The conductor nods in satisfaction, bowing to the empty auditorium.
...
From an inconspicuous corner of the side seats, a faint applause rises again.
A magnificent performance, Mister Hameln.
Perhaps complete, but far from magnificent. True magnificence lies beyond the theater.
The conductor stows his baton, frowning toward the lady in the side seats.
We had an agreement, you shouldn't be in the theater, Lady Juliette.
Our collaboration has nothing to do with the performance. I don't want any interruptions to my shows. I thought you understood that.
Besides, your presence here could attract unnecessary trouble.
Of course, Mister Hameln. But missing your live performance would have been such a regret.
Juliette smiles and nods, gently smoothing a crease in her skirt.
She is long accustomed to Hameln's manner and takes no offense.
By the way, I have important news to deliver in person.
The operation has begun?
Indeed. Clementine handled Mythag's patrols smoothly, we've gained more time than anticipated.
Your plan is succeeding.
Merely an uncomplicated prelude. Too early to call it a success.
I trust your ingenuity, Mr. Conductor.
How long have we waited for this day?
Nearly twenty years.
Yes, nearly twenty years. Such a long stretch of time.
The Sculptors' Association and the Seafarers' games drew enough attention away from us, we remained well hidden.
The failure in Remouahe is regrettable, but ultimately inconsequential.
What truly matters is today, after twenty long years.
Sharing this pivotal moment with a collaborator like you is quite delightful.
Our goals align. This performance isn't for you or me.
To hear that great being's music once more, all sacrifices pale in comparison.
He turns, then stands firm. The young conductor raises his hands, saluting the empty theater and the unknowable depths of the stars beyond.
2. Scholastic Decree, before the fight
50 linesA catastrophe from beyond the world? Professor, I'm not sure I follow...
You gaze at the remains of the Mother Tree on the table. Since returning from the desert, it has been there on Alistair's desk like an ugly parable.
Alistair remains silent for a long while. He faces the window overlooking the empty Black Pool, as if conflicting ideas are warring in his mind.
You've encountered the Proxies of the three Aeons. It's time I tell you more about them.
Noting Alistair's expression, you step forward, grasp his wheelchair, and wheel him to the table's edge.
What do you know about the three Aeons now?
Quite a bit. I know They each hold Authority over sagacity, desire, and rapture, with powers beyond our imagination. They are the mightiest deities in this universe...
No, %player%, above the three Aeons, there is one supreme...
Cough... Cough, cough...
Professor!
The wheelchair trembles. You rush to steady Alistair.
That simple statement seems to have drained his spirit, making his already frail body even weaker.
Professor, how do you know these things?
Alistair maneuvers his wheelchair to the window. You follow his gaze, peering at the light in the Black Pool.
The Aeon of Sagacity imparted much knowledge to Tawil. That wisdom isn't recorded in any text, merely writing it down would invite endless calamity.
What remains in the Black Pool is a slumbering husk. Their consciousness isn't here, or rather, not in this dimension, or this time...
When They were awake, They... cough... conveyed this knowledge to me.
Tawil isn't in this dimension... Are They running from something?
Thais had also told me She was fleeing a "final crisis"...
A catastrophe tied to the supreme being?
Something that terrifies the proxies of two Aeons, could that be the catastrophe from beyond this world you mentioned?
Does this disaster involve that supreme being?
Alistair regards you approvingly, nodding with a faint smile.
You're sharp, %player%. Good.
Keenness is a precious quality in a Keeper.
You're right. They are afraid.
Alistair straightens up, his expression turning grave.
That supreme being, Tawil calls It the Supreme Will...
It is the sole sovereign of countless universes. The three Aeons were born from It. It creates all, commands all, destroys all.
It is the source of every Cataclysm.
The source of every Cataclysm... You mean...!
Yes. The thing we've always sought to understand, to conquer, Dissolution.
What is the connection between Dissolution and that Supreme Will?
Tawil didn't tell me. Perhaps the Aeon of Sagacity hid something from Them.
We have a theory: that Supreme Will and...
Alistair stares at you. Suddenly, his brow furrows tightly.
Professor?
A strong premonition, like the day of the Yakutsk explosion. An utterly ominous feeling...
Prepare yourself, %player%. Something big may happen soon.
Something we've never imagined, something that will fill everyone with fear and suffering...
Knock knock knock...
Before Alistair can finish, urgent knocking echoes from outside the underground lab.
Alistair frowns in thought. You open the door, puzzled.
E... emergency!
Hannah? How did you get here?
This is near the Black Pool, very dangerous. Only those with special passes can...
Before you finish, Hannah grabs you and pulls you toward the lab's exit.
Hey! Hannah, what...
The Committee... the Committee is invading the school!
!!!
3. The Conductor, before the fight
57 lines
Brown, over here!
Squeak!
Those who disturb My repose shall face retribution.
Several massive tentacles lash out, toppling agents attempting to press the assault.
On Mythag's plaza, Committee Agents crumple like withered grass.
The remaining agents encircle you, hesitant to advance rashly.
Surrender, Clementine. Order your agents to fall back, stop harassing Mythag's staff and students.
The administration will handle you appropriately.
Mythag's Keeper... I finally see why the Sculptors and the Lightbearers are so intrigued by your ability to link Awakeners.
Our brief encounter at the workhouse left no time for deeper conversation, what a shame.
But after this delay, it should be about time...
Clementine lightly brushes dust from her clothes, her gaze bypassing you toward Mythag's depths.
She glances at her pocket watch, a faint smile curling her lips.
Time's up.
Ah!...
Ngh...
It feels as if a violent explosion detonates in your minds.
The Awakeners, vibrant moments ago, suddenly reel as if struck by a heavy blow, dropping to their knees.
Intense stabbing pain assaults you; instinctively, you brace against a nearby chair, barely staying upright.
Jenkin! Tulu! You okay?
I'll help you...
You attempt to channel your strength to them.
(!!!)
This is...
In the spirit realm, those once-familiar figures blur abruptly.
The once tight-knit links seem obstructed by something. The connections between you and those shadows grow profoundly indistinct.
My links to the Awakeners... weakened?
No... you don't have that power...
Something dawns on you; your pupils dilate in shock.
You lift your head, staring at Clementine in astonishment. A bead of sweat drips from your forehead.
It's the Black Pool... something's wrong with the Black Pool!
All this fanfare, drawing our attention here, the real target is the Black Pool...!
Yes. The Black Pool.
The anomalies in the spirit realm, those intense tremors, they can only relate to D-Rifts and Cataclysms.
The Black Pool, the world's earliest and grandest D-Rift. It is both the source of Silver power and the greatest threat to it.
Your mind is equally impressive, {Male=Mister,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Near-limitless links, enviable mental fortitude...
You're good indeed. But without that power, what can you accomplish?
%player%! Watch out!
A black orb studded with spikes hurtles toward you, knocking aside an agent lunging at you.
The black orb tries to press the attack, but shatters after moving just a short distance.
Lily can hold on no longer; her tiny frame trembles in agony.
You scan around. Jenkin, Tulu, Lily... With the links weakening, these Awakeners show early signs of losing control.
No, gotta think of something...
Got an idea...! Brown!
Squeak!
Squeak, Squeak...
It's... it's rats?!
Countless grating rat squeals erupt.
From corridors, sewers, bushes... innumerable rats surge forth, swarming densely onto the field.
Brown leads the horde straight at the Committee Agents.
Keeper, now's the chance!
My eyes! My eyes!
Get away! Get away!
The rat tide engulfs the crowd on the field, submerging Brown.
Rats charge fearlessly. Rats fall easily. As the surge recedes, it leaves a carpet of rat corpses.
Clementine's gaze pierces the littered chaos, finding no trace of you or the Awakeners.
4. The Conductor, after the fight
86 linesErica!
Fall back!
Bang...
Ngh...
Tulu's tentacles yank you from the fierce explosion.
Fragments of Erica's body scatter across the floor. Jagged shards carve countless gashes into your flesh; blood wells up, soaking your uniform crimson.
%player%!
I'm alright...
Erica doesn't seem influenced by the Black Pool.
Erica's response... it wasn't the Black Pool affecting her.
Your eyes fix on the debris from Erica's detonation, a device of unusual shape rests amid the shattered remnants.
That pyramidal apparatus had been lodged in Erica's brain. Though your knowledge of her mechanical anatomy is limited, you're certain: no such component belongs there.
Someone helped them break through the fog, detonated the Black Pool, and manipulated Erica...
A traitor lurks within Mythag.
Who?! I'll send Brown to get 'em... ngh...
A surge of agony interrupts Jenkin's fervent outburst.
Distant footsteps echo faintly.
The blast came from that direction, move!
They're closing in... We need to get out of here now!
{Male=He,Female=She} headed that way! Fan out!
Huff... huff...
Pursuing footsteps draw near from behind, then recede.
Concealed behind a corridor pillar, you seize the moment to gulp air.
The Committee will comb this area soon, got to figure something out... Ngh!...
Pain clutches your skull.
A profound tremor ripples through the spirit realm; your head pounds fiercely. You grip the pillar to remain standing.
The Awakeners around you can barely muster the strength to speak. Your gaze turns gravely toward the Black Pool.
At this rate, neither I nor the Awakeners will last long. We must find a detour...
Found you, Keeper.
!!!
Move aside
With your legs bursting with force, you veer sideways.
A slender blade strikes where you stood, its point clashing against the stone with a sharp chime.
Mental assaults compounded by physical wounds, yet still, those reflexes...
Mythag's Keeper... confronting peril after peril since assuming the mantle.
A simple rapier won't take {Male=him,Female=her} down.
Swift as ever, Clementine.
You stay alert to her hypnotic device while eyeing the Committee Agents tightening their noose around you.
Scores of agents blockade every conceivable escape route.
Unfortunately, there's no time for a proper chat now.
But fear not, Keeper. My associates will escort you to safety. Soon enough, we'll have ample time to talk.
Clementine gestures.
As agents converge, your heart hammers wildly, beyond control.
If they seize me now, and Mythag's Awakeners spiral out of control...
No, I can't let that happen...
Even with the Black Pool in chaos, links frayed, there must be a way...
You retreat deliberately into a dead end, clenching your Silver Key while staunching the gash from Erica's blast.
Pulses of disturbance batter your mind; you feel the Black Pool's roiling turmoil.
Those luminous specks in your spirit realm, emblematic of the Awakeners, now flicker feebly, some vanishing altogether.
A Keeper without Awakeners is useless.
Keep calm, think...
There must... There must be a way...
Steady, %player%. Steady...
Channel sufficient mental force through the Silver Key, and nearby Awakeners regain formidable combat prowess...
Indeed, the method is known to you. It always has been.
Yet in your present mental frailty, forcing the activation, what permanent havoc might it wreak?
Neural impairment? Paralysis, vegetative state? Or...
From the depths of your mind, faint pleas from the Awakeners resonate. You pivot, surveying Mythag; your grip on the Silver Key quivers with exertion.
Repercussions no longer matter. You realize there's no choice now.
There we go...
Catch {Male=him,Female=her}.
Force the Silver Key's activation
You elevate your hand, Silver Key in grasp.
I won't let you...
Second movement: commence.
Ngh...
?!!!
Before you could channel the Silver Key and unleash its searing radiance to scourge foe and self alike, a serene voice emanates from behind.
That timbre traces the conductor's arc, an inexorable edict in the symphony of notes.
In its wake, majestic strains swell from the recesses of your awareness.
!!!
What...?
Sheathe your Silver Key. Invoke it now, and you'll die.
Cadence. Melody. The gentle overtones of strings suffuse your thoughts.
It's an unknown wavelength: Committee personnel crumple in torment beneath this harmony, while you sense immersion in balmy springs, purified.
You feel the restoration of bonds to your Awakeners. The Black Pool's upheavals dissolve utterly amid the melody.
Clementine gapes in bewilderment at the voice's source.
You! Why...
Percussion: cease.
With a subtle flourish of his baton, a terse, emphatic accent ushers an abrupt hush.
Clementine succumbs, slumping earthward.
You... you are...?
Their reinforcements are approaching. My composition won't hold up for long.
I'll guide you to sanctuary.
He pivots, inclining his head faintly, his countenance as placid as abyssal depths.
Conductor Hameln, at your service.
5. Rehearsal, before the fight
30 linesWe're here.
The music room? Is this place secure?
Functionally speaking, it's near the Committee's search zones, not exactly safe.
Ah, I get it... the most dangerous spot is the safest. Smart thinking.
You're overthinking it. I came here because I prefer being around instruments.
...Since you've already decided to help, you could at least play along with the conversation.
Hameln, I've heard of you, the world's top conductor, currently on tour in Londinium.
Both Mythag and the Committee have looked into you. No one suspected you were an Awakener.
I didn't expect Mythag or the Committee to take an interest in me.
Our investigations showed your tour itinerary overlaps heavily with the Church of the Lightbearer's activities.
You eye the Awakener warily.
I'm grateful you saved me and the Awakeners. But with Mythag in crisis right now, I'm sure you understand my caution.
On the way here, I asked how you got into Mythag and what your purpose is. You can answer me now.
Are your Awakeners settled?
...I sent most of them toward the Black Pool. I just kept these few with me.
How's the link recovery going?
...
Thanks to your music, the connections between me and these Awakeners are back.
Your case is unique, I can only help you sustain a handful of links. But that should suffice.
He lightly lifts his baton.
Now, attack me.
???
What did you say?
I believe my Leonian pronunciation is clear enough for you to understand.
Yes, but I mean...
Another reason for coming here is the abundance of musical instruments. The resonance among these instruments enhances my ability.
If you'd rather not attack, defending works too. Get ready.
Before you can process what's happening, Hameln's baton dips downward with practiced ease.
A crisp string note resonates simultaneously in the music room and your mind.
Performance begins.
6. Rehearsal, after the fight
29 linesHuff... I'm still injured, and the links just recovered, do we really have to do this?
If you have the energy for all that talk, your strength must be recovering well.
You wipe sweat from your brow, frowning at him.
Rehearsal's over. You still haven't answered my earlier questions.
I already gave you the answer: I bear no ill will towards you.
You show up in Mythag at this exact moment for no apparent reason, plus Clementine's reaction...
This incident can't just involve Clementine and the Committee. I don't know who else is in on it, but you're with them.
You could say that.
So why help me?
Hameln pauses in thought, then looks up at you.
I once heard a sublime composition, that sound belonged to a supreme being.
I came here, seeking the most perfect notes in this universe.
But what does that have to do with me? My music grades weren't exactly stellar...
...That's irrelevant.
I'm not following...
Now's not the time for explanations. Your priority is reaching the Black Pool and stabilizing it.
The Committee has moved on, we can head out.
You're coming with us?
My music has range limits. Without my aid, you're powerless.
You can reject my help, but I wouldn't recommend it.
I know very little about you, but you seem to know a lot...
I don't like feeling manipulated.
No one does. But this symphony has already begun. On stage, every musician must fulfill their role.
A wrong note, a missing cue... any slip could doom the entire performance.
He tucks away his baton and steps toward the classroom door.
I don't mind your suspicion. But you have no other options.
What you want to know, I'll tell you on the way. Let's move...
He glances back, his sidelong gaze cool and piercing.
...Pupilless Eye.
7. Remains, before the fight
98 linesRamona peeks out cautiously, scanning the escape corridor from end to end.
No Committee Agents here. This way.
She turns back, supporting Czort's arm.
Ramona, let me escort Dean Czort. With the Black Pool acting up, you're not in great shape either...
If the Committee can injure Dean Czort, they're capable of worse.
Whether their goal is hostages or something else, you all need someone combat-ready for protection.
Don't worry, Professor Sylvia. I'm not sure why, but the Black Pool's fluctuations haven't impacted my fighting capabilities.
Your logic is sound, Ramona.
But in terms of hostage value or mobility issues, there's someone who needs your protection more than I do.
I understand, Dean. Once you're in a safe zone, I'll head straight to find Professor Alistair.
Their eyes turn together toward the rear, where the enigmatic and perilous rift gapes like a voracious maw, ready to devour all of Mythag.
I hope Alistair is safe...
Black tea brewed this morning. Would you like some?
For a cripple without limbs, anything beyond sustaining life is merely an extra hassle.
I will not burden myself, or others. Help yourself, Professor Doll.
Doll blows on her cup and takes a delicate sip.
Black Pool water seeps into the underground lab, churning dangerously at their feet like a macabre accompaniment to a tea party.
Jealous? This body even has scent sensors, enough to savor the warmth of hot tea gliding over the tongue.
Rather than envying your sip of fine tea, I'd envy the ease of transferring to another synthetic body.
Sorry to say, but no artificial frame could handle your mental strength. Exceptional gifts come with exceptional costs.
Doll sets down her cup and looks at Alistair.
Professor Alistair, can you sense who it is?
You mean Mythag's traitor?
Exactly. The fog outside was crafted by the founder and Tawil together, and the Black Pool's location is a secret few can grasp.
Breaching the fog, triggering the Black Pool, only a handful could pull that off.
I've narrowed it to a few, but with what we know now, tightening the net further is tough.
Am I, then, one of the suspects?
Alistair tilts his head slightly, an ambiguous glint flickering in his eyes.
You were the first.
Doll sips her tea; rising steam veils her expression, and the lab's atmosphere thickens in an instant.
But you're cleared.
It can't be you, you're Mythag's core. You have simpler ways to do it; no need for all this trouble.
In this upheaval, the traitor plays the riskiest part.
My skills aren't suited for the front lines. Finding this traitor is my job. I need your input.
Forgive me, Professor Doll, I have no sense of this traitor at all.
That shouldn't be. Every Silver Core oscillation in Mythag should theoretically fall within your domain.
Yet that is the reality. They stand outside my perception.
Meaning they can evade your detection?
Other possibilities exist.
Doll falls silent for a moment, as if piecing something together.
I see. That's a new angle.
Alistair nods, closing his eyes to inhale the fragrance from the cup before him, sighing contentedly.
You seem pretty relaxed. The entire Mythag is worried about you right now.
I am the last one you should concern yourself with.
Doll looks at Alistair, a trace of pity shadowing her calm face.
Your face shows no discomfort at all. Your willpower is admirable.
...The pain you're enduring now must be beyond anything we can imagine, right, Professor Alistair?
I... cough...
Alistair coughs violently; his wheelchair bumps the desk, spilling tea that drips and vanishes into the Black Pool.
The Black Pool exploded, you're closest to it, and hit hardest by its shockwaves.
Staying here, that body of yours won't hold up.
One known for logic should not spout sentimental nonsense.
Your feigned ignorance sounds forced, Professor Doll.
Alistair shakes his head with a smile.
If I leave, the Black Pool will go completely haywire. Then, it is not merely Mythag that is doomed.
Alistair's gentle voice begins to tremble uncontrollably. It's pain from the soul's depths, impossible to hide.
I had to tell you that I cared.
Beyond useless pleasantries, I can't think of another way to show respect for a human like you.
Hearing that from you isn't easy. It's my honor.
Help is probably on the way. No need to worry about me.
Other places need your presence. Go now, Professor Doll. One old-timer in the Black Pool is more than enough.
Doll sighs with closed eyes, says nothing more, and leaves the underground lab.
Behind her, Mythag's first Keeper sits in his wheelchair, gazing calmly at the faint glow in the Black Pool.
His remaining husk shudders faintly; sweat and blood seep from bandages, dripping to mingle with the seething waters below.
In the unseen depths of the mind, that illusory, perilous dimension, Alistair battles the Black Pool alone.
Church of the Lightbearer? Their leader is Juliette?! Ngh...
Stay calm. The closer you are to the Black Pool, the heavier the mental strain. If your emotions run high, not even my music can suppress your pain.
The Sculptors' Association, the Seafarers... those groups...
Surprised? They've always been tangled in subtle threads.
The anomaly called Dissolution binds them, weaving a dense web around the black plague's spread across all of Kadath.
Mythag seeks Dissolution's truths and humanity's survival, fundamentally opposing the Lantern's drive to propagate it;
The Sculptors aim to transcend Dissolution individually, disregarding societal order. Meanwhile, Church of the Lightbearer offer research materials far superior to others. Herbert's defection likely ties into that.
As for the Seafarers, they're just relics stuck in bygone eras.
Desire breeds weakness. With Juliette's cunning, manipulating them is effortless.
You know way too much.
Nothing remarkable. You just lacked "access" before.
Beyond Juliette's recent rise, the rest is mere idle chatter.
I didn't expect her to be orchestrating all this... So the Committee, and Mythag's traitor, are linked to Church of the Lightbearer?
Hameln nods subtly, his white gloves and baton tucked behind like a blade poised to strike.
A high-ranking Committee member is Juliette's plant. Whatever forces he can muster are probably all focused on Mythag now.
Do you know who the traitor is?
Juliette and he maintain single-line contact, no one else knows but them.
Not even you, finding this traitor sounds tricky...
What is her true purpose?
Juliette barging into Mythag like this, what's her real objective?
How much do you know about the Church of the Lightbearers' Twin Divi project?
Hameln doesn't answer directly, but counters your question with another.
His sharp gaze pierces like a dagger. You frown, racking your memory.
I learned a bit when dealing with Lily and Helot.
They call two kindred Awakeners the "Lightbearer's Twin Divi", maybe made so to summon something...
The Church of the Lightbearer believes fusing two Awakeners creates a vessel for divinity.
They aim to create a god that way.
Create a god... But what's that got to do with Mythag?
Because...
Hameln halts abruptly, his keen eyes fixing on something behind a gravestone.
From behind that slate-gray, key-shaped marker comes a rustling sound.
It's one of Juliette's human-faced hounds. She can't know I'm helping you.
It's going to report back! Stop it!
8. Remains, after the fight
32 linesAs you move to finish it off, the seemingly dying human-faced hound suddenly leaps up and darts past you.
It's escaping! Stop it!
Hameln sweeps his baton down swiftly; music swells, but the hound's speed is blinding, it reaches the edge of his range in a flash.
The melody makes it stumble, yet fails to halt it completely.
We can't let it get away!
You chase after it futilely. The hound's pace is relentless, on the verge of vanishing from sight...
Swish...
A blade flashes from behind the undergrowth, slicing through the hound's neck.
Head and body part ways, tumbling to the ground in a filthy streak of blood.
A tall woman steps into view, sheathing her sword.
Alva! You okay?
She frowns, hand tight on her hilt behind her.
Church of the Lightbearer. He reeks of them.
This is Hameln... I'll explain the rest later. Right now, he's an ally to Mythag.
You step forward to inspect the hound's corpse.
That's the Church of the Lightbearer's mark, alright. It was heading toward the Black Pool...
Juliette's already there. We need to pick up the pace.
You gather your gear, eyes locked on the clock tower. For three hundred years, the Black Pool has lurked silently in the abyss below.
Hameln, you mentioned the Twin Divi and Mythag, what's the connection?
The Lantern created three pairs of twins; two ended in failure.
Their first and most promising pair is right here in Mythag.
Who is it?
Years ago, the Church of the Lightbearers poured everything into their first pair of artificial twins. One was intercepted by a team led by Lord Dexter from Mythag.
Hearing "Dexter," your heart leaps to your throat.
Hameln lowers his long lashes, murmuring the thought you dread to accept.
Her name is Ramona.
Your mind reels, the world blurring into a dreamlike haze you might wake from any second.
You mean...
Your classmate, your friend, your confidante.
Juliette's committing everything. She's here for Ramona.
9. Good Student, Bad Student, before the fight
100 linesNo figures lurk in the narrow corridor's shadows. Heavy breathing and footsteps echo through the hallway.
Huff... Dean Czort, hang in there, just a bit further.
Ramona, watch that wound...
She pulls out a handkerchief, carefully wiping blood from Ramona's arm.
The Black Pool's turmoil, it's affecting you after all, isn't it?
Just a little.
Ramona, sorry for the trouble. If I weren't hurt, maybe I could share the load...
Don't say that, Dean. Mythag folks never see the injured as burdens.
Once I get you to the Life Sciences building, we can...
Need a lift, Miss Ramona?
Ramona raises her sword, ready to fight.
Behind her, Sylvia frowns, shielding the weakened Czort.
Urgent footsteps ring out, as if they'd been lying in wait for ages.
Committee-uniformed agents swarm both ends of the tight passage, blocking all paths.
The one-eyed man steps to the front, gently teasing the hairless cat on his shoulder with its stitched-on dual heads.
It's... you...
Czort tenses at the sight of that face.
Herbert... you bastard...
Professor Crowley treated you like his own son, and you killed him, stole his work... Now you have the nerve to show your face...
Shh, Czort... ah, no, I should call you Dean Czort now.
After I left, the deanship was yours for the taking.
I'd love to reminisce about our good old school days, but I'm here on other business today.
His gaze shifts to Ramona.
Long time no see, I've missed you, Miss Ramona.
We've only crossed paths a few times lately, no need to act so chummy.
Lately? No, no.
Herbert looks up, his eyes passing over Czort and Ramona, settling into the dark void as if staring at some distant, unreachable point.
I remember our first meeting, right in this very passage.
Back then, you were only... this big...
Herbert holds out his hands, measuring the length of a hairless cat.
What... do you mean?
My creation. My child.
Helot was a failure, and those frail alien twins couldn't bear the grand mission. In my collaboration with the Church, you were the perfect outcome.
I don't understand...
You still don't get it, Ramona?
Those people you care about, shocked, hurt, out of control, dead... All this happened to Mythag, because of you.
What... are you saying?
Seeing Ramona's sword hum and tremble in her grip, Herbert smiles and steps forward.
Dexter stole you from us years ago.
This day came late, but no matter, now's the time.
You're one of the precious twins, the Lantern's flawless creation.
We're here to retrieve you.
So come with me, Ramona.
I give you my word, come with me quietly, and all disturbances to Mythag end immediately.
Ramona, you...
Do I look that stupid to you, Herbert?
This is Mythag. Whatever your goal, we won't let it happen.
Spotting Ramona's rapier rising, Herbert wags his finger lightly.
You're smart, of course, Ramona.
Escorting two defenseless ladies, you picked this obscure route.
I trust your prowess, I couldn't stop you one-on-one.
But look at your dear mentors, Dean Czort and Professor Sylvia.
Ramona scans the agents eyeing them hungrily, her sword steady at her chest.
Mythag's safety comes first. Do what's right, Ramona.
Czort's words whisper into Ramona's ear. She pauses, without nodding.
Moments later, she looks up at Herbert.
I accept...
Ramona!
But on one condition.
Name it.
Have your minions pull back outside the passage. Once Dean Czort and Professor Sylvia are clear, I'll go with you.
Sure. No problem.
At his signal, the agents clear a path.
Ramona, their whole point is taking you, you can't go with them!
Don't worry, Dean Czort. I'm too important to them to be harmed.
But...
Dean Czort, let's go.
Ramona's right, Herbert won't harm her.
Let's trust her.
From her smiling eyes, Czort reads her intent. She nods.
The agents shift aside, disrupting their tight formation. Gaps appear at the encirclement's front and rear.
As they move, their focus drifts to the shifting ranks, no longer tracking Ramona's every twitch.
Ugh!!
Screams from two agents draw all eyes.
With the Committee's guard dropping, Ramona's sword dispatches her two captors cleanly and decisively.
(Sorry, Dean Czort, Professor Sylvia. I can't put Mythag at risk.)
(I'll bring other Awakeners to rescue you. Soon!)
No time to voice it, this is the only shot. She bolts through the sudden breach.
A few agents react sluggishly, but they can't match Ramona's blade. Czort and Sylvia exchange glances, relief washing over their faces.
Herbert catches their expressions in his peripheral vision, smiling as he raises a hand and waves gently.
We await You here, O Supreme Will...
For Your advent, bless us, and punish the irreverent...
Strange syllables drift from the crowd. As they reach Ramona's ears, her insides clench, as if invisible cords seize her vitals, sapping all her strength.
She crumples defenselessly, her rapier clattering away and stopping nearby after a faint metallic scrape. Ramona reaches out, but falls short.
This... this is...
Even the cheapest Lightbearer creation carries their mark. Let alone you.
You sought an escape, I waited for the Church members to activate your internal seal. It takes time.
Violence might injure you or let you slip away, not ideal.
You... knew I'd run...
I never expected you'd surrender. You're not that foolish.
Herbert approaches Ramona, picks up the rapier, and toys with it, sighing regretfully.
Straight-up resistance, and we might not have stopped you. But you want it all, more info, less cost...
I know you, Ramona. You chase perfection. Even in dire straits, you aim to help Mythag and the Keeper as much as possible.
But without proper intel, perfection breeds mistakes. Right?
He stands, smiling as he pets his shoulder cat.
The cat lifts its head, bored eyes scanning the humans around, as if in reply.
10. Path, before the fight
44 linesYou mean... Ramona was created by the Lantern?!
Your body moves mechanically toward the Black Pool, but your mind is consumed by Hameln's words.
About twenty years ago, the Church of the Lightbearer infiltrated the Black Pool with Herbert's help, tapping into Tawil's consciousness to create Ramona, one of their Twin Divi.
As they were about to leave, Ramona was rescued by a Mythag professor. She's been here ever since.
Professor Dexter... yeah, he did mention Ramona's origins.
So he saved her from the Church of the Lightbearer back then!
If they're after Ramona, I must go and warn her...
I ran into her on my way here.
She and Sylvia were escorting Czort through a secluded western corridor toward the Life Sciences building...
The western corridor?
Hameln frowns slightly at Alva's words.
Before I found you, Herbert headed west with his group. He was tasked to locate Ramona.
Ramona's sharp, Herbert alone is no match for her.
It's not that simple. Ramona bears the Church of the Lightbearer's mark inside her.
Through it, they can track her position, and even subdue her.
!!!
I'll briefly boost your link strength to the normal level, you can try locating her.
Thank you!
Hameln nods. His baton arcs high, tracing a flawless curve through the air.
Passionate strains flow from his crisp motion, guiding your drifting consciousness like a tidal surge.
Search for Ramona
In the spirit realm, those familiar lights flicker back to life. You scan desperately.
...
Any luck, Keeper?
{Male=He,Female=She} didn't find her.
If those cultists are targeting Ramona, we must rescue her first!
You start moving westward as you speak.
I understand how important Ramona is to you. But stay calm, Keeper.
Stabilizing the Black Pool is more urgent. And you don't even know her exact location right now.
No, that's not the point. They're coming for her, I won't let them.
If we reach her last known position, we can trace her from there...
I know where she is.
!!!
You halt abruptly. Hameln nods gently, his impeccably tailored clothes swaying rhythmically with the motion.
You couldn't sense her in the spirit realm, that means she has been captured.
According to their plan, Herbert will take Ramona to the Black Pool. She is safe for the time being.
Why?
The Church of the Lightbearer's ritual requires a D-Rift. Mythag has only one such rift.
Besides obstructing your actions and causing chaos among the Awakeners, Juliette's goal in detonating the Black Pool is to unleash more of its Power.
Then Ramona...
A dead Ramona serves no purpose. The ritual takes time to be prepared, until then, she's safe.
Got it... alright.
You draw a deep breath to steady yourself, then glance at the nearby underground entrance.
Let's go... we go to the Black Pool and find them!
11. Path, after the fight
38 linesAfter dealing with the Committee Agent in the way, you reach the familiar room and ease the door open.
You have arrived, %player%... Cough...
Professor Alistair!
Blood sprays from Alistair's mouth, darkening his half-bandaged form to a deep red.
In mere hours, Alistair has wasted away, his body shivers from cold and pain, teetering on his wheelchair.
Sorry I'm late, Professor... Let me get you out now!
Alistair says little, just shaking his head with a smile.
Suppressing the Black Pool is my duty. Yours lies elsewhere.
It is a path a thousand times harder than mine...
Alistair sighs softly.
Professor... tell me... what should I do now?
I sense the three Aeons' powers... They have all manifested in the Black Pool.
I do not know why, but I see the road ahead for you.
Go to the Black Pool, %player%. Seek the three Aeons.
Will They help us?
The three Aeons chose differently for the final catastrophe.
The Aeon of Sagacity chose resistance. They selected a Proxy, founded Mythag, and taught humanity Silver Technology.
The Aeon of Desire chose evasion. She used her Proxy to plant her seeds everywhere, hoping to survive the ultimate disaster that way.
What about the Aeon of Rapture?
Tawil told me He chose observation. He cares for neither life nor death. Only self-indulgence matters to Him.
So besides the Aeon of Sagacity, the other two's stance on Mythag is unclear, they might not aid me...
That does not matter. You are not seeking Their help, %player%.
A sharp gleam flashes in Alistair's gentle eyes.
You're there to claim Their powers, to seize Their power, Their Authority!
But... They're the three Aeons...
Professor... this...
They won't even help, why would They...
And the "Authority" they have, What are they? How do I use them? I don't know any of that.
That is your path. You'll find out.
Alistair's smile feels like a gentle hand patting your head.
On this road, you'll find allies and foes.
The flood approaches; everyone has their part to play. We all do.
He glances at you and Hameln, his words laden with meaning, unclear for whom.
Hameln stands in the shadows, nodding subtly in acknowledgment.
Alistair pauses. He turns back, gazing at the boundless Black Pool.
Worry not over the Black Pool, or me.
What you need to know, you will find out in time.
Now go. It's time to walk your own path.
12. Father and Daughter, before the fight
78 linesHalos. Colors.
An illusory river flows before Ramona.
What unfolds is time, dimensions, a union of the rational and irrational.
All perceptions merge into this ethereal stream, bathing her lithe form.
Awaken. My vessel. My fragment.
Ramona's eyes widen.
In this surreal space, the figure slumbering in the Black Pool reveals her face veiled in gossamer.
A face identical to Ramona's.
Tawil... I... I've seen you before...
Herbert said I'm one of the artificial twins created by the Lantern, that they're here for me...
He spoke the truth. The other half of the twins is me.
...I see.
You are not surprised.
I had my suspicions. Herbert called me an important asset to Church of the Lightbearers, born from the Black Pool.
And I've seen you. Seen your face...
Your guess is completely correct.
What is this place?
Consciousness, dreams, a confluence of endless times and dimensions, where reason meets the absurd.
A nonexistent singularity... my sanctuary.
Sanctuary... What are you hiding from?
A gaze. From the Supreme Will.
A... gaze?
You can envision It as a slumbering infant.
Our universe, the entire world and its civilizations, are merely Its dream. The moment It stirs, all ceases to exist.
Our... universe?!
Tawil presses on, undeterred by Ramona's shock. Her voice echoes from every corner of the space.
To It, all existence is noise, and the three Aeons' presence is too loud, too likely to rouse It from the dream.
Thus, I must conceal myself. Beyond Its dream.
And thus, I cannot intervene directly in your world.
So we are the Twin Divi statue they seek to summon...
They're trying to create noise, to wake the Supreme Will?!
Tawil's illusory face seems to curve in an approving smile. She nods at Ramona.
You are a fragment of me. Through you, they'll pull my consciousness from this place into your body.
If they succeed, the Supreme Will's gaze will lock onto your world prematurely...
Then, what my other fragment once witnessed will happen again.
Tell me what I can do! As long as we can defeat Juliette, we can...
The Church of the Lightbearer is irrelevant, Ramona. Without them, without the artificial twins, something else arises.
The Supreme Will's advent is inevitable. All I do is delay Its awakening.
The one who can save Mythag, save your world, is {Male=him,Female=her}.
You mean... the Keeper?
{Male=He,Female=She} was destined for this path since the Yakutsk explosion.
When the Twin Statues emerge, the "Gateway" appears.
Then, {Male=he,Female=she} will step through, learning all {Male=he,Female=she} must know.
The Keeper... who is {Male=he,Female=she}, really?
Tawil's expression fades into haze again. She shakes her head.
As the Aeon of Sagacity's proxy, I know only what They permit.
She opens her eyes, regarding Ramona solemnly.
Ramona, your birth was an error. Your life, a flawed derivation.
Yet error upon error yielded the right outcome.
In countless futures, your aid to {Male=him,Female=her} is the sole way to avert this catastrophe...
Hmm... sounds like she's talking to someone?
Ramona can't tell if she's awake or asleep. Tawil's voice has vanished; another familiar one rings in her ears.
Who?!
What, my old friend, don't you recognize me now?
(Professor Dexter... Father?)
Herbert has no idea how this man appeared from nowhere.
Around him, Clementine and Committee members encircle Dexter.
Dexter ignores the weapons aimed his way, striding straight to Ramona and looking her over.
You're the thief who took her from us back then... Today, neither of you leaves!
I'll overlook your disrespect. After all, I'm not planning to end you just yet.
And don't worry, I won't interfere. Seeing my daughter safe puts me at ease. You've taken such good care of her; I couldn't bear to take her away.
Herbert frowns, staring hard into Dexter's eyes, trying to read his intent.
But on that face, beyond a gentleman's refined smile, he sees nothing.
Sensing a dangerous aura, he signals behind his back.
No need to tense up, Mister Herbert. Mister Dexter is a friend.
Friend?
Make no mistake, Lady Juliette. I made it clear years ago.
I'm not your friend. Merely an audience.
The theater's favorite kind, box seat season ticket holder: polite, quiet, and never absent.
He pats Juliette's shoulder lightly, like a dignified patron applauding a stellar performer.
Lady Juliette, glad to see you've finally come to honor your promise.
But be careful, all of you. She's my only daughter. Do not let anything happen to her.
After all... I've waited twenty years for this show.
Ramona hopes that she's still in Tawil's realm, that this is some absurd dream.
But she can't stop her body from shaking, nor the tear sliding from her eye, dropping into the churning Black Pool.
That glistening drop catches Dexter's eye, reflecting a shimmer.
I've got an important guest to meet. Until we meet again, everyone.
He smiles, nodding to the group, then vanishes into the Black Pool's lightless shadows, without pausing for that tear.
13. Path of Preservation, before the fight
36 linesThe lights of the underground lab grow distant, fading into a feeble glimmer.
The Black Pool churns beneath your feet, Tawil's faint glow flickering dimly in the distance, like a drop of pure white paint sinking into the abyss, vanishing without a trace.
As you delve deeper, the Pool's agitation becomes increasingly pronounced.
Finding Tawil now would alert Juliette. We'll have to save her for last.
As for the other two Aeons... where should I look?
Your mentor knows much. He didn't tell you this, but perhaps you deserve to know it more than he does.
Recall them. Call their names. They might just answer.
A face brimming with a warm smile surfaces in your mind. She once strode through the sands at the pivotal moment when you faced the Mother Tree's remains, clearing every obstacle in your path.
Thais...
I am here.
Thais, will you come to me?
There will be a price.
I'm willing to pay it!
Ngh...
A sharp pain drives you to your knees. A faintly glowing seed emerges from your abdomen, floating above the Black Pool.
The seed plunges into the pool, rippling its surface. As the waves spread, the scene warps and shifts. A familiar dune landscape unfolds before you.
Endless yellow sands whirl up in a sweet-scented breeze, converging right in front of you.
Soon, with the seed as its core and the sand as its flesh, a humanoid figure materializes.
Thais...?
Since she vanished in the tidal surge of the Holy River during the Mother Tree's collapse, no one has learned her fate.
This is... the Black Pool, where the earth's Black Tides burst forth... I see. Only Tawil could endure the eternal, profound darkness here.
Thais draws suddenly close, her smooth lips, her alluring gaze, her silent smile, unchanged from Remouahe.
Answer me, Keeper: Why have you awakened me here before the new world dawns?
You recount Alistair's instructions in full.
Thais's face shifts from confusion to panic, finally settling into outright terror.
I've made up my mind.
Thais lets out a soft sigh.
Please, lend me the Authority of the Aeon of Desire.
You step forward, meeting Thais's eyes directly.
Alas, little one...
I've already granted you my Authority. I held nothing back from you.
That seed I implanted in you... my Authority clings to it.
But you've torn it out yourself. It's afraid, it's angry...
To nurture it once more, you must first calm it...
14. Path of Preservation, after the fight
42 linesThais's power seems inexhaustible. The mounting pressure leaves you breathless.
My offspring, my life, it's endless... You can't defeat me, Keeper.
All efforts are futile, so just give in. Stop fighting It.
I have faith in you. Together, we could go to the new world, free from care...
I didn't understand why you planted that seed.
I won't agree to this, Thais.
Look at yourself, Keeper... Even I, a mere seed, can overpower you like this.
Even if you reclaim all the Authorities, you're just a fragment... What could you possibly achieve?
I won't give up, Thais.
I don't know, Thais. But I know I won't give up.
Whether to grant me your Authority is your choice. I won't force you.
This is your most precious seed. Give it to someone with the best chance of escaping this place...
I'll never abandon this place. I'll fight whatever or whoever seeks to destroy it...
Abandoning this world, the people around me, the Awakeners, you, that's something I won't do.
Just like you'd never abandon Aram.
...
Since the explosion, all my memories are tied to you all. You mean everything to me.
I've lost my life once before. Dying to protect what's mine, or living by abandoning it, there's only one choice for me.
Thais stares into your eyes in silence for a long time.
I can detect lies... and you're speaking the truth, Keeper.
Looks like I've trusted the wrong person. You're not the one who'll lead me to the new world...
Thais sighs in disappointment.
She approaches you.
Thais, what are you... mm...
Something soft and warm seals your lips.
A spherical object separates from Thais's mouth, sliding slowly.
It passes through your mouth, your throat, your esophagus. It becomes a spring breeze, caressing every organ, every capillary's end within you.
Time blurs. Thais releases you, her tongue lightly tracing her lips.
Thais...?
That... was...
You're a liar, a fool, %player%. You can't defeat It. You don't even qualify to look at It...
But alas, that's who you are. What else can I do?
Thais sighs softly. Her breath brushes your face, sweet like the spring wind inside you.
This seed holds the Authority over Desire.
I've already given it to you... A gift once given can't be taken back.
She lifts your chin, studying you with curiosity, a slight smile curling her lips.
I'll be watching you, Keeper.
I'll watch as you steadfastly tread this path to ruin... I'll mourn you at your funeral.
Without the seed to sustain it, the sand-formed body no longer holds.
In a gentle spring breeze, Thais's form scatters into grains of sand, drifting away like a soft sigh.
15. Dexterian Twist, before the fight
87 linesThe dunes... they're gone...
I've heard whispers of your tale with Thais.
No intent to intrude, but now's not the time to linger in these sentiments.
Thais and I aren't...
No need to explain. Whatever the means, reclaiming an Authority is a victory.
I... forget it, no point arguing with you. Let's just... hiss!
A ripping pain inside forces a sharp intake of breath just when you are about to rise.
The Aeons' Authorities wield immense power; adaptation will take time.
You focus inward. Thais's vast energy rampages through you, you have no idea how to absorb it, and even basic movement suffers greatly.
No clue how long this will last. Ramona's still trapped in the Black Pool; I need to hurry...
Sprawled by the Black Pool in this chill? You could catch a cold.
Professor Dexter?
Professor Dexter?!
A familiar voice, a familiar figure.
He approaches, with a cane in his impeccably groomed hands.
Professor Dexter, it's incredibly dangerous down here right now, please, get out!
Don't worry about Ramona; I'll rescue her soon...
You're as concerned for Ramona as ever, Keeper.
But don't you worry, I've just seen her.
You have...?
Indeed. She's quite... comfortable now.
It's been ages since she slept so peacefully. She needs this rest.
She's... in grave danger... Why didn't you...
Get her out? Yeah, why not... Dexter loves his daughter so dearly; he'd devise a way to rescue her.
Even at the cost of his own life...
Dexter tilts his head back, sighing softly, as if reminiscing.
That could be one path, one turn in the tale.
But if I did save her, wouldn't the story lose its grand spectacle?
Concern, nostalgia, sorrow... all emotions drain from Dexter's face.
You see him flash a flawless, utterly cold smile.
Professor Dexter would never say that... Who are you really?!
He steps closer, those familiar eyes now gleaming with an alien amusement.
Black smoke billows from him, slowly enveloping his form.
Ah, who am I...
The lavish investor. The doting father. The notorious playboy. The popular Mythag professor.
A dedicated actor. Twenty years in the same role, never slacking for that exquisite plot twist.
And now...
My dear audience, give me your most thunderous applause.
Black mist swirls like cheers.
What emerges before you is a face from your nightmares, one you've seen before.
On that featureless visage, the grinning mouth stretches wide, greedily savoring your shock and fear.
You are... N!
One name for my myriad forms, it's almost insulting... but call me what you will.
What have you done to Professor Dexter!
Professor Dexter? Who's that?
Keeper, you and Ramona... do you truly know Dexter?
What do you mean... Of course we... Wait, no way?!
You recall N's words. These years, he's played the same role without falter...
Your pupils contract sharply. You snap your head up, staring at N's blank face.
Brilliant, Keeper. That's the look!
Hold it, yes, perfect... Let me etch this into memory...
A shame Ramona wasn't awake when she learned this; I only caught her tears.
Her inner turmoil must have been even more spectacular than yours.
N's body quivers slightly, suppressing a surge of glee.
He leans down, scrutinizing you closely.
You... why possess Professor Dexter?
Possess? Oh, no. Possession is crude entertainment.
A true actor embodies, becomes.
He leans to your ear, whispering like sharing a monumental secret...
Dexter died long ago, on the day he saved Ramona.
These years, you and Ramona must have enjoyed my company, right?
His face hovers near yours. On that void face, you almost see arrogant features materialize.
He bends closer, cataloging every twitch, every involuntary shudder.
A charming dandy, a devoted father, I wasn't thrilled with such roles at first.
My interest lay solely in her... my "daughter." Tawil's twin creation, Ramona.
N smiles toward the Black Pool's center, where Tawil resides.
You... why kill him...
Your misunderstanding pains me, Keeper.
The Church of the Lightbearer's grand plan, how could a powerless playboy defy it? Yet he managed to steal the baby anyway.
When he saw me, his eyes lit up like I was his savior... Ha.
N chuckles pleasurably at the memory.
He struck a deal with me. Can you imagine? A dying mortal, bargaining with me...
He gave me everything. His wealth, his status, his daughter...
He begged me to play him, to be her father.
He died cradling that baby, babbling about protecting her...
The mole in Mythag... it was you?
Facing your confused, furious gaze, N shrugs indifferently.
Me, not me, what's the difference? Hard to believe you're fixated on this now.
Posing as Dexter granted prime access to Mythag.
This place is the world's most thrilling amusement park.
Seeing your faces when you realize the deception. Watching Tawil's despair when her plans crumble.
And, of course, you.
N snaps his fingers. The Black Pool's waters rise gracefully, forming a cruel stage.
He gazes at you, licking his lips like an innocent child eyeing a toy about to break.
Thais gifted you her seed, believing you'd ensure her survival... Ha, that madwoman.
Sadly, she chose wrong. I'll take Desire's Authority.
Now show me: when hope ignited is snatched away, what expression will cross your face?
16. Dexterian Twist, after the fight
59 linesAs the Silver Key's glow fades, N collapses to the ground.
Huff... finally...
N, I need to...
!!!
Before you can react, the body dissolves into black mist, vanishing on the spot.
Finale: the hero's fall.
Bang...
A brutal impact nearly shatters your body.
Wounds from previous battles, the weight of Desire's Authority, the Black Pool's mental assault, overwhelmed by all of it, you crumple in agony, utterly drained, unable to rise.
The black mist reforms before you. N regards you, shaking his head in mock regret.
Joyful times are always fleeting. A fine actor's exit leaves one so... desolate...
But as a dutiful spectator, one must forget past tales and eagerly await the next.
Ramona and Tawil, this act is about to begin.
Before that, you have thirty seconds for your exit lines, {Male=Mister,Female=Miss} Keeper.
As he speaks, N fusses with a rose in his hand, shaping it like a farewell gift for a funeral.
I reclaimed the Authority to save Mythag, the people around me... and everything in this world, including you!
Twenty seconds.
N brings his nonexistent nose to the rose, inhaling deeply with a contented sigh.
Twenty years... you've been with Mythag for twenty years. You cared for no one, even Ramona?
I refuse to believe you feel nothing for her...
Ten seconds.
He gently places the rose on your chest.
Justice? Duty? Desire? Emotion?
Countless human motivators flash through your mind. None fits N.
What does he want... what does he pursue...
Three seconds.
He plucks a rose petal. It sharpens into a blade, pressing against your throat.
Tawil told me He chose observation. He cares for neither life nor death. Only self-indulgence matters to Him.
The blade slices into your throat. You feel the sting vividly. Your eyes snap open.
Boring!
Boring!
Hmm?
Your choice... it's utterly boring...
Oh?
The blade halts at your throat. N waits.
The ultimate catastrophe is coming... and no one will escape it...
But what if someone could stop it?
You... what?
I can. Whatever this catastrophe is, I'll halt Its arrival!
Success or failure... either way, it's the most entertaining spectacle for you.
Hehehe... You? HAHAHAHA!
N erupts in laughter as if hearing the joke of the century, doubling over.
The unrestrained guffaws echo endlessly across the empty Black Pool stage.
You have no idea what you're even talking about!
True, I don't. But that doesn't make it any less right.
N, you've thought of this already. You've never intended to kill me.
Giving me thirty seconds was to hear me say it. Wasn't it?
After a long pause, N's laughter subsides. He draws a deep breath, regarding you earnestly.
Apologies for the outburst...
You spoke true, Keeper. Utterly correct. Nothing in the world could top this amusement.
He smiles, offering you the rose.
This is...?
You inquire while instinctively touching it.
The instant your fingers meet the petals, a cacophony of laughs assaults your ears.
Gruff, elegant, shrill, muffled... a chaotic chorus of laughter revels on your eardrums like a deranged troupe.
Your thoughts stall; pain stabs your nerves like knives.
Amid this fierce, chaotic, near-maddening din, N's words cut through clearly.
Enjoy. The Authority of Rapture.
I'll wait quietly. When this grand show begins, I'll be in the audience, cheering you on with the loudest applause.
17. Fate, before the fight
17 linesYou look more at ease now. Seems you're adapting well in the second Authority retrieval.
Enduring the mad laughter ringing in your ears, you can't help but roll your eyes at Hameln.
You've got some nerve... Why didn't you step in to help when N was threatening my life?
Convincing N is your role. You handled it just right.
N is arrogant; my approach would only complicate your objective.
So you are aware of that, eh?
Everyone has their position. Fail in your duties there, and the performance falls apart.
You could ease this pain with your music... Do you have any idea how unbearable N's "gift" is?
The movement's length is finite, and I need to save it for critical moments. Pain is nothing compared to failure.
You let out a long sigh.
The sweeping spring breeze and rampant laughter intertwine, neutralizing each other, then gradually subsiding. Your strength has recovered considerably.
Two stubborn Aeons have both granted me their Authorities.
Next is the Aeon of Sagacity, who's already on Mythag's side...
You stare ahead, clenching your fists.
Let's go, Hameln. We need to pick up the pace.
18. Fate, after the fight
64 linesHuff... huff...
You barely withstand Tawil's assault.
The intense blow drains you completely; you drop to your knees.
Why...
Vanish.
She raises her hand.
Wait!...
A blinding white glare bursts from Tawil. Powerless to resist, you let the intense light pierce straight through your body.
Ngh...
Your stomach twists in sharp agony. You open your mouth; dense mist expels from within, spreading like ink in a river.
The mist solidifies into an ellipsoidal object, resembling some creature's eye.
The eye, yet unopened, dissipates in Tawil's radiance.
This is...
You slowly lower your shielding hands. Tawil's ethereal form stands before you, nodding faintly.
The error within you has been corrected.
You mean the error... wasn't me?
The error nested in you. It was the Supreme Will's eye for observing this world.
N detected it. What He gave you, aside from the Authority, was a will to control you.
Now, those errors are purged. You are safe, for now.
I thought... never mind.
You exhale deeply, rising to your feet.
Thank you...
No thanks needed; I merely did what must be done. The rest falls to you.
One thing I don't understand.
The Supreme Will and I, what's the connection... Why me? Who... am I really?
You frown, gazing at Tawil.
Truth often brings duty, and suffering.
I am willing to bear it
I am Mythag's Keeper; I swore an oath at the Keygrave.
If this is what I must bear, I will.
Tawil regards your resolute eyes; her visage flickers faintly, as if recalling distant matters.
It is the primordial chaos, the unconscious destroyer... As Its fragment, you differ from It.
?!!
You arrived in this world during that Yakutsk spring. I could not foresee your fate then; I even thought you heralded the world's end.
I was wrong, Keeper. Destruction needs no harbinger. Its mental fragment, Its nascent consciousness of continuance, is the sole key.
The Supreme Will's... fragment...
Your heart pounds fiercely. A resonance from cosmic depths stirs within.
Your gifts, the Aeons' attitudes toward you... You've pondered this. Yet, facing the answer shakes you.
But you know pressing questions demand resolution now.
Tawil, tell me, how do I claim Their power... How do I prevent Its arrival!
The Supreme Will's arrival is inevitable, Keeper.
The Aeon of Sagacity comprehends all, but They granted me not complete knowledge. Omniscience is no boon; it often invites greater calamity.
Among what I know, your answer lies not.
All answers, all calamities, await beyond the gate...
A faint static interrupts Tawil. She turns calmly, her gaze piercing the space, landing elsewhere beyond.
On her ethereal, beautiful face, a smile of release forms.
She's found me at last.
Suddenly, Dissolution manifests in this hidden space.
She? You mean... Juliette?
The Dissolution surges rapidly, greedily tainting every corner.
Countless Dissolution fluids lunge at Tawil like predators, seeking to ensnare, bind, submerge her.
Tawil!!
Massive wings unfurl abruptly; amid the Dissolution fluid's tug, she leaps toward you...
The Dissolution fluid's pull tears gaping wounds. Black fluid from within mingles with the Dissolution, staining her body... no, not her. The fluid stains Them, now, like a distorted, filthy painting.
Amid this torment and filth, They regard you calmly, extending Their hand...
Their fingertip touches your forehead gently.
Pure light floods your mind, illuminating every neural tip. Your brain swells with boundless knowledge.
Thais and N's powers once raged within; as this light enters, the howling winds and laughter hush.
Like completing a puzzle, the three forces balance in unity, forming a serene, vast starfield.
No pleas. No escape. This is the world's fate.
I grant you all my power and Authority, Keeper.
Defeat us. Kill us. Then, save us.
19. The Third Movement, before the fight
39 linesThe touch of her fingers fades from your forehead. You open your eyes; Tawil and Their space have vanished, the Black Pool reappearing beneath your feet.
I... I'm back?
You seem to have briefly lost consciousness.
I... Tawil pulled me into a strange realm...
Looks like you've reclaimed all three Aeons' Authorities.
You close your eyes, sensing the surge of power within.
Those three vibrant forces counterbalance each other inside you, merging into a harmonious sea that ebbs and flows gently with your breath.
You rise, assessing your physical state.
My bodily functions and mental strength are both restored!
The Black Pool's influence has mostly dissipated, though I still don't know how to wield the Aeons' Authorities...
The method for harnessing them lies beyond the Gate.
Tawil mentioned that in Their space... How did you know?
An educated guess.
Halting the music now risks instability; until the Aeons' Authorities fully integrate, I'll continue stabilizing your mind.
Thanks... Hameln, without your help, I wouldn't have made it this far.
I have my own goals.
You've aided me; whatever you're seeking, I'll do everything to help you find it.
I'm sure you will. Never doubted it.
For now, let's locate Juliette and rescue Ramona...
Heh, I am the visitor, how improper it will be to make the host come to me.
!!!
Intense danger spikes your alertness. You and Hameln pivot, backs together, each scanning half of the area.
A familiar purple veil glimmers in the Black Pool's faint light.
We meet again, Keeper. And you, Mister Traitor.
...
Beneath the veil, the woman offers you a benevolent smile, identical to the one from your first desert encounter.
As her voice echoes, countless agents and purple-robed priests materialize around you, encircling you tightly.
They've been lingering in the churning Black Pool, sustaining massive damage at Dissolution's epicenter. Some collapse sporadically, dissolving into Dissolution fluids that merge with the Pool.
Whether a comrade or themselves falls victim, their faces remain impassive.
They are Juliette's hounds. They obey only the Lantern's will.
You've been... waiting for me?
I've awaited you for quite some time, and thankfully, not in vain. I must thank you, {Male=Mister,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Locating Tawil is nigh impossible for mortals. Without Tawil drawing you into Their space, pinpointing Them might have taken weeks.
!!!
That was... deliberate?
Impossible... In the graveyard, we slew the human-faced hound; you couldn't have learned my movements or plans...
Humans grasp only fragments of truth, that's our mortal limit.
{Male=Mister,Female=Miss} Keeper, your contributions to the divine arrival are exemplary. In the god's new world, you'll surely earn enviable favor.
The encircling priests and soldiers lunge expressionlessly as she gestures.
20. The Third Movement, after the fight
52 linesHuff... huff...
Your body trembles from exhaustion; the spiritual link's strain pounds your head relentlessly.
Countless Committee soldiers and priests litter the Black Pool around you, from above, they resemble a canvas painted with corpses.
Truly extraordinary, Keeper... Your gifts are enviable.
But unfortunately, you're no match for me.
The three Aeons' powers have stabilized; my strength is back.
We've clashed before, I know your capabilities, Juliette.
I know you're formidable, and I know you've held back... but targeting Mythag? You've picked the wrong foe.
You grip the Silver Key; the Awakeners receive your command, surrounding Juliette.
Whatever your schemes, I will not let you!
Hameln, cover me!
Hameln lifts his baton hand lightly.
Juliette's expression remains unchanged; no matter how many subordinates fall, she smiles at you, as if they're mere expendables to drain your strength.
You issue commands to the Awakeners, as you cannot afford any pretermission on this chance, you'll crush her in one strike!
You raise your hand high, clutching the Silver Key. It gleams brilliantly, channeling vast spiritual energy into the Awakeners.
Prepare to attack!
Awakeners, prepare...
Fourth movement: cease.
A familiar voice. Cool, resolute, unyielding. The baton taps lightly behind you, steady and graceful as on a theater stage.
Under this directive, the music stabilizing your mind vanishes, replaced by a piercing, chaotic screech.
That melody once domed your spirit realm, shielding you from the surging Black Pool.
Now, the dome collapses abruptly, shards mingling with the boiling Black Pool, assaulting your psyche together.
Ah!!...
Overwhelming pain crushes you. The links to your Awakeners sever; they lose all power instantly, collapsing at Juliette's feet.
Prolonged battle's toll, plus this unprepared betrayal, leaves you defenseless.
My task is complete.
The conductor stows his baton. Neat, elegant, without hesitation.
Your judgment is spot on, Mister Hameln.
The Keeper is our greatest threat. This is {Male=his,Female=her} domain; letting {Male=him,Female=her} slip control would jeopardize our plan immensely.
Earning {Male=his,Female=her} trust not only had {Male=him,Female=her} locate Tawil for us but also allowed surveillance of {Male=his,Female=her} every move.
Without your strategy, our plan wouldn't have gone so smoothly. Collaborating with talent like you is my honor.
No need for pleasantries.
Hameln nods slightly in response to Juliette.
With your last strength, you lift your head, gazing at the man beside you.
Hameln...?
Hameln, you...
Your spiritual links are fully severed; you're powerless now.
Words are futile, what's done is done. Accept it, and wait.
Wait for the supreme symphony's arrival.
Hameln's voice is placid as an ice lake, clean, empty; you see nothing within.
Footsteps approach; a group of priests carries someone into view.
Ramona...!!
You strain to struggle, but your body won't move, you can only watch as they place Ramona beneath Tawil's shell.
As her body settles into the Black Pool, a massive array etched with the Lightbearer emblem emerges below her.
Smiling, Juliette places an oddly shaped lantern atop Ramona's head.
She raises her arms slowly, her smile turning solemn.
The final obstacle is removed; everything is ready.
O Supreme Creator, heed our call...
Bring forth the great purification to this world!
Splash...
The boundless Black Pool begins to quake violently.
Beneath the immense array, in your despairing gaze, a colossal white idol slowly reveals Its crown.
21. Lex Lethis, before the fight
93 linesYou stand amid a storm.
Intense vibrations make the Black Pool's waters churn violently, whipping up massive waves that crash against you.
The Black Pool quakes. The ceiling quakes. It seems the entire Mythag, even the whole continent, trembles under Juliette's chant.
In the earth-shaking turmoil, you lift your head, gazing at the increasingly majestic construct before you.
Twin... Statues...
Two white humanoid statues emerge slowly from beneath the Black Pool, sending tremors through it all.
In the gap between the statues, Tawil's shell entwines and envelops Ramona's body.
The two vacant husks morph and fuse continuously, becoming a massive black-and-white sculpture suspended between the colossal half-figures.
Found you... Tawil!
A shrill screech echoes through the Black Pool. The Authority of Sagacity within you vibrates with the cry.
Countless white phantoms, captured from diverse dimensions and times, converge into the black-and-white statue.
Soon, the screeches and tremors subside.
Even without the Lightbearers, others would rise. No one evades It, Tawil.
Come, let us welcome Its birth together!
As Juliette ceases her gestures, the massive twin statues converge toward the center, like soul-seeking vessels urgently fusing with the black-and-white statue.
Tawil! Ramona!! Ah...
A brilliant light bursts forth suddenly. Behind the immense twin constructs, a rift appears.
You slowly lower your hands shielding your eyes.
Is that... a gate?
The illusory gate behind Tawil manifests physically in this moment.
Light seeps from the widening seam, indifferent as the cosmos, pure as truth.
Juliette stares entranced at the glow, tears streaming unnoticed in the glare. She cannot look away.
The Gate... bearer of all... the divine abode...
At long last, the day has come!
No, can't let the gate open...
You yearn to act. You urge the Silver Key desperately, but your mental energy is suppressed utterly and the Key remains inert.
Despairingly, you watch the gate solidify, cracking open a slit.
That overwhelming power, like a world-engulfing flood, surges from within toward the Lightbearer's Twin Statues.
Power, from within the Gate... The twin statues are nearing their fusion.
Mythag... Keeper... join this sinful world in ultimate purification!
Ding...
Sonata, commence.
!!!
As if thousands of musicians strike their instruments simultaneously, strings, winds, percussion, diverse sounds weave into a surging torrent.
The river rushes forth, slamming into the fragile link between the gate and the twin statues.
Cough...
Blood sprays from Hameln's mouth, staining his collar and baton.
The music collides with the Gate's force; the backlash strains Hameln's frame unbearably.
The ever-immaculate conductor ignores his disheveled state, fixated on the Gate, his baton wielding unwavered.
The musical flood pours relentlessly against that unyielding barrier.
Boom...
The twin statues shudder massively. Struck at its most critical, vulnerable formation, the Gate-Statue link cracks faintly.
The ominous aura from the statues weakens noticeably. The converging statues halt.
That familiar face steps from the shadows, standing by your side once more.
The time has come. The final performance begins.
He waves his baton lightly. A soft melody flows into your spirit realm.
The heavy chains and pain vanish abruptly; you bathe in the warm spring once more, your mind brimming with even vaster spiritual energy than before.
You... didn't sever my spiritual links?
I temporarily disrupted your linking capability, a ruse to deceive Juliette.
The restrictions are lifted. The Gate now stands open, and everything is set in motion.
He stands before you, his calm eyes ablaze with fervor.
He tucks the baton behind his back, bowing to you.
Pupilless Eye, O Proxy of the Supreme Will. Conductor Hameln, at your service.
I shall aid you in reclaiming your rightful Authority.
You... you know...
The Supreme Will's arrival is inevitable; only you can confront it.
Summoning the Twins, opening the Gate, only then could you regain power to oppose It.
Exigency demanded; please forgive my prior impropriety.
Hameln! You... what are you doing?!!
Doing what must be done.
The statues have been destroyed at its most vulnerable point; your god will barely hear your calls now.
{Male=He,Female=She}'s but a fragment! Only my way awakens the true Supreme Will...
You sought the supreme melody from the Supreme Will, Hameln, you've betrayed your faith!
Divinity isn't inherently greater than its fragments. That's not my concern, Lady Juliette.
I once believed the Supreme Will's Requiem was the universe's greatest melody. Then I understood: true supreme art transcends itself.
He lifts his head, eyes fierce with flame, gazing steadily at Juliette.
It shall resound in defiance, humanity versus divinity. Fragment against primordial.
Clashing with the Supreme Will, harmonizing with It... This surpasses even Its Requiem in grandeur!
Since when...
In the spring of that year in Yakutsk, we witnessed the explosion.
That day, I heard it... the eternal melody I seek, beyond that requiem.
I only heard its prelude back then. Today, it shall echo fully across the world.
Hameln's calm voice trembles uncontrollably.
So, you've been plotting betrayal ever since...
The god has forgotten Its music. It is mere unconscious chaos, a grand calamity.
All Its beauty, all truth, resides in Its fragment.
I am loyal to music, to beauty and truth. I've never betrayed, Juliette.
Your actions are unforgivable
Why... If you'd helped from the start, Ramona wouldn't...
Hameln, I can't forgive what you've done.
Why do this?
Why... If you'd helped me from the start, Ramona wouldn't...
He gazes calmly at Juliette, the statues, and the gate behind.
He stands at your side.
{Male=Mr.,Female=Miss} Keeper, halting Juliette merely delays the Supreme Will's arrival. A slow death changes nothing.
Allowing her to summon the Gate, enabling you to reclaim the Authorities, that is the only way out.
Our pursuits differ, but be it the supreme melody or the world's survival, the chance comes only once.
In this inescapable symphony, you, I, Miss Ramona, everyone else, we are mere performers.
I seek no understanding or forgiveness; I answer for every note.
Before that, I will help you stop Juliette and rescue Ramona.
You know Hameln speaks true. To Ramona, her life is nothing compared to the world's survival. But to you, it is not.
Sensing the surging spiritual energy within, you raise your head, eyeing the towering statue.
None shall approach It... My faithful, my hounds, stop them!
22. Lex Lethis, after the fight
32 linesBOOM...
Ramona!
You leap forward, catching the frail girl amid the collapsing statue.
Kee... Keeper...
Ramona's eyes meet yours. You are not sure which dimension she's in, or if she's Ramona, Tawil, or someone else.
But none of those matters. What matters is, that she's back by your side, like she always has been.
You grasp her hand, just like you did on your first day as Keeper.
Endless mental energy floods like an ocean into the Silver Key, channeling into Ramona.
Uwaah...
Intense shockwaves thrust you back. The twin statues screech shrilly, nearly bursting your eardrums.
The great wheel symbolizing time and fate shatters, followed by the statues' bodies.
Amid the screeching, the twin statues fracture and crumble; massive chunks turn to Dissolution fluids, plunging into the Black Pool, leaving no trace behind.
Keeper, did we... make it?
Yes, Ramona, we made it!
You hold her in your arms.
This time, Ramona doesn't resist. She lies in your arms, smiling like an infant.
Thank you, %player%.
You lift your head.
The being watching over the Gate, the one you met in the sanctuary, now stands before you.
Tawil?!
Tawil? You...
Tawil's and my consciousness intertwined and separated in the statue.
After its destruction, her consciousness returned to her vessel.
Little of the Aeon of Sagacity's power remains in me. My sanctuary, consumed by Dissolution.
Fortunately, I need to hide no more. The Supreme Will hears my voice no longer.
Tawil smiles at you. A pale aura veils her weakened, gentle face.
Keeper, look.
You follow Ramona's gaze.
Behind the statue, the massive stone Gate has stopped moving, and the myriad illusions within have calmed.
Intricate colors now flow slowly inside the Gate, like an eternal dream.
23. Finale, before the fight
50 linesIs it... over?...
A wave of dizziness hits you. After relentless battles, accumulated fatigue crashes down like a mountain.
As you teeter on the brink of collapse, a gentle melody steadies you.
It is. The performance has concluded, {Male=Mister,Female=Miss} Keeper.
Juliette's ritual has failed. Without its guiding flame, the Supreme Will remains dormant for now.
You turn, gazing at the source of that cool voice.
The Gate's power nearly demolished Hameln's body; crimson blood soaks his attire and baton, yet he pays it no mind.
His clothing remains impeccably straight, baton and arm positioned flawlessly, but on that glacial face, a smile finally emerges.
It's the pride of a flawless performance, the anticipation of hearing the supreme note.
You'll have enough time to adapt to your Authorities. When the Supreme Will arrives, this world shall resound with its ultimate melody.
Rather than ruin and silence, I hope for notes of life and triumph.
Thank you.
Your scheming irked me... But you did help. Thank you.
I don't like your scheming.
I don't like your scheming, Hameln, I never did...
But regardless, you did help.
I think I owe you my thanks.
Only mediocre conductors care about what the audience thinks.
I acted for my own purpose. No thanks needed between collaborators.
Hameln draws a deep breath, eyes closed, ready to stow his baton.
Long plotting seems to weary even this conductor. In this applause-less show, he takes his final bow.
But as his baton retracts halfway, a faint flute melody drifts from the Gate.
!!!
Hameln, you...
?!!...
Following his gaze to the Gate, you freeze like him, incapable of movement or speech.
Keeper?
Ramona regards you puzzled.
In this joyous moment, she sees an expression unprecedented on your face...
That of a soul facing cosmic collapse...
Chill, terror, despair, frailty.
She turns, following your stare...
Behind the once-calm Gate, static hues shatter. Time, space, knowledge fragment into shards, staining this dimension with chaotic, filthy colors like spilled oil.
Low flute tones interrupt, a primordial, chaotic tune weaving through the crowd, cocooning all in fear.
Amidst the sound of the flute and the all-encompassing colors, an eye slowly opens, like a newborn infant, curiously examining this world.
Where that gaze lands, countless existent things dissolve into Dissolution fluids, merging with the Black Pool.
The gaze scans, finally locking onto you.
...@3...
Its pupil dilates sharply. The Black Pool roars; the universe seems to quake.
You lock eyes with It, such a gaze undoubtedly an act of blasphemy. Everything fades from your consciousness.
Terror. Primordial, purest terror, unimaginable, inescapable, floods you.
Hehehehe... Hahaha!
Hope, joy, reunion, then bam, death.
Mythag's mole, my pal, the stage's second most graceful sidekick, I can't help but applaud you!
I was right about you, %player%. Right about all of you!
N's voice emerges from the Black Pool's shadows. The scene strips Him of elegance. He laughs maniacally, gazing feverishly toward the Gate.
It's awakening, It's awakening! Ha!
So, %player%, fragment, impostor...
He turns, malevolent mouth grinning wide, eyeless black face eyeing you playfully.
Tell me... what can you do now?