Morimens story · Main Story
When the Mountain Feasts
25 scenes, 1,749 lines
1. The Snowbound, before the fight
87 linesThe greatest lie in this world... ...falls from the lips of one who never lies.
-Altitude 4,000 m-
This is the place.
This is the last supply station on the way to Mount Everest.
Beyond this point, no vehicle can go further.
You push open the car door. The air is thick with the roasted aroma of butter tea, the gamey smell of livestock, and the thin, crisp chill unique to the plateau, all of it rushing up to meet you..
A leaden gray sky presses down upon the edge of the world. The snow-capped peaks stand like a row of silent deities, looming at the boundary between dusk and cloud.
At the foot of the snowy mountains, a chaotic bazaar has sprouted from the frozen earth. Wooden shacks, tents, and makeshift stalls of yak hide crowd both sides of a muddy mountain path.
Hyperborea is too cold. I'm starting to miss Ms. Sylvia's hot black tea...
It may be a bit early to say this, but once we return to Mythag, I'll have Ms. Sylvia arrange a round-the-clock supply of hot black tea for you.
For now, let's stay focused on the task at hand.
You pull out the promotional brochure, already creased from being rolled up in your luggage, and hold it up against the sun, rotating it to compare.
The mountain's edge runs off the rim of the brochure and merges seamlessly with the silhouette of the peaks beneath the overcast sky.
This is the place. I just have no idea how to find that mysterious fairy whose pile of titles rivals Mount Everest itself...
Everyone, listen uuup!
Following the voice, a girl in white stands alone before a tent on a small hill, looking down upon the sparse crowd below.
Before you now stands Caraboo, Emissary of the Supreme God and Great Fairy of the Holy Order! I am the mortal incarnation of Umapati, daughter of Himavat, she who dwells upon the snowy peaks!
(That sounds a bit different from what the brochure said...)
Hey, if you're really the mountain goddess, then let's see some magic!
The man's mockery draws a few scattered snickers.
Nope, that's beyond me right now.
The girl leisurely pulls out a bright red apple and takes a bite.
Because I have lost seven sacred artifacts, seven treasures I hold most dear.
They are the Golden Apple of Eris, the Mirror of Yata, the Feather of Ma'at, the Key of Solomon, the Eye of Balor...
Quite the mixed bag of civilizations you're pulling from there!
Another burst of laughter fills the air, but the girl couldn't look less bothered.
And also the Thread of Moirae... aaaaand the Crown of Ariadne.
The thread of Moirae... the Three Fates' loom...
Could this be what Arachne spoke of, "the destiny we are about to meet"?
You tease that small spool of thread out of the hidden pocket of your coat. It shimmers at your fingertips with a flowing iridescence the naked eye can barely catch.
Let's wait a little longer. We need to proceed with caution.
Fate has guided us here, but it hasn't told us what role this "fairy" in that brochure plays.
*Cough, cough!*
That's all I have to say. Now, leave your offerings here!
No more, no less: just fifty Rose Scrips! That's all it takes for Lady Umapati to feel your devotion!
As the mountain goddess, once I've reunited the seven great artifacts and been reborn beneath the new moon, I shall repay your prayers a hundredfold, a thousandfold!
All that rambling, and you're just here to beg for money!
Ever since the mountain goddess showed herself, hundreds, if not thousands, of climbing teams have come through here. Everyone brings their own provisions.
Looking for a free ride? Piss off and learn to earn what you want!
The onlookers scatter in an uproar.
You take the chance to push against the crowd and step forward, addressing the dejected girl.
Excuse me... quick question. Did you make this brochure?
You pull out that gaudy brochure and tap on the words "The great leader, the Chosen One of the Divine, and Bosom Friend of the God-King."
The girl's eyes instantly light up.
Ohhh! You actually got my recruitment brochure!
So, where are these Twelve Apostles of yours, and the rest of your followers?
Now that's a long story. The great Holy Order was brought low by treacherous scheming: one among the Twelve Apostles harbored wicked intentions, plotting to seize all the glory for themselves.
The other followers were all turned against one another until the Order fell apart completely. Only I, the Fairy Godmother, remained, setting out alone on a long and arduous pilgrimage to restore the Order to its former glory.
All you need to do right now is sponsor one thousand Rose Scrips, and you can claim the top spot among the New Twelve Apostles: my number one disciple...
But just now, when you were performing on the street, you said you were Umapati, Goddess of the Snowy Mountains.
So your identity just changes wherever you go, huh?
Tch. Caught me.
The girl leaps up and, in a flash, disappears behind one of the tents.
Just as you're about to go after her, someone pats you on the back.
You two there, here for the climb?
Hm, us?
Indeed. One look and I can tell you two are people of distinction. Not locals, I take it?
Everyone who turns up in this wasteland these days is after the same thing: the goddess at the summit who grants any wish. Am I wrong?
You two aren't carrying much gear. Planning to mooch off someone else's supplies, I take it? Funny coincidence, that.
My name is Naraka. I'm a local Sherpa guide.
The mountaineering team we're with is sponsored by the Green Foundation. Supplies are all ready, we're just waiting on the "destined ones" to make the climb with us.
Destined ones?
Mm, I've lived in the shadow of these peaks for many years. Whether someone has what it takes to reach the summit...
He points to his own eyes.
These eyes can tell at a glance.
Oh? Do tell.
First, of course, the right age, a strong physique, and stable composure.
Beyond that, what matters even more is the will to reach the summit. The kind of resolve that would sooner die at the top than turn back.
Die at the top? Sounds like you're not planning on us coming back down alive.
Ah, now, don't put it like that. Once you reach the summit and meet the goddess, any wish at all can be granted. At that point, why would something like getting back down be worth worrying about?
Come on, follow me to the base camp and take a look. You won't be disappointed.
You glance at William, silently asking for his opinion.
Follow him. There's nothing to see here now. That girl from earlier is gone.
If we're actually going to climb this mountain, a local guide and proper supplies are indispensable.
We'll go take a look at the camp.
♬~~♫~~♪~~♫~~♪~~♫~~
What a beautiful voice...
It sounds oddly familiar.
As if cascading down from a distant galaxy, or drifting up serenely from the boundless deep.
♬~~♫~~♪~~♫~~♪~~♫~~
The singing drifts from the camp in wisps, growing clearer like thin mist parting to reveal the full moon in all its radiance.
♬~~♫~~♪~~♫~~♪~~♫~~
In an open space beside the camp, a girl with sorrow written across her face sings with all her heart.
Everyone who passes by instinctively slows their steps and holds their breath, afraid of disturbing that voice flowing like moonlight.
♬~~♫~~♪~~♫~~♪~~♫~~
Only when the last note fades does she surface from the world she'd been lost in, turning to notice your presence.
Ah. You must be the new teammates?
2. The Backpacks, before the fight
125 linesUnder Naraka's guidance, you and the climbing team members introduce yourselves to one another.
Tinct, a mysterious and aloof songstress who claims to be searching for her sister.
Evelyn, an archaeologist who still travels for fieldwork even in a world after its own apocalypse.
While you're discussing plans to set off the next day, a white-haired head pops through the camp entrance.
Hey there~ Is this Naraka's climbing team?
Looking for me?
Hehe, I heard you're the best mountain guide among all the Sherpa!
By the blessing of the mountain goddess, won't you take me along on the climb?
No.
Caraboo stretches out her hand with a look of indignation and points at you and William.
Simple. Those two are adults, capable of taking care of themselves.
Mountaineering isn't playing house, little girl.
Down here you can claim to be your Mommy, Daddy, the mountain goddess, or even the Supreme Will itself. Nobody cares.
But once you're above five thousand meters, every lie gets laid bare by the wind, snow, and altitude sickness.
But I've got money, I've got LOTS of it!
You're just a kid, how much could you possibly...
!!
Naraka's words come to an abrupt halt.
The girl pulls out a heavy cloth pouch, grabs a large handful of gold coins, and lets them rain back into the bag with a jingling cascade. She keeps just one, flipping and twirling it between her fingers.
I already told you, I'm a fairy! Why would I ever be short on something as trivial as money!
But didn't you just say you were a goddess...?
Whatever, who cares!
Caraboo tosses the gold coin away casually, and Naraka lunges forward to catch it, stumbling and nearly tumbling into the snow.
He cradles the coin in his hands, bites down on it, and beams with delight.
It's the real deal...!
Hmph. A gold coin from a fairy's own hand? How could it ever be fake?
Anyway, you can take me along with the climbing team now, right?
Well, letting a child join the climbing team is a bit irresponsible when it comes to your safety...
Hm?
But then again, our team has plenty of high-altitude experience and supplies to spare, protecting a little thing like you? EASY!
That said, I should make this clear: if you decide to turn back partway, we'll leave you with enough provisions to get down the mountain safely, but the guide fee is non-refundable.
Yeah, yeah, would a fairy really bicker with you over a little money like that?
Weird. Wasn't she just busking and begging for money a moment ago?
Don't think I can't hear you!
I already said, that was an offering! What a goddess takes is your sincerity. Got it?
Her hearing gets awfully sharp when it doesn't need to be...
I CAN HEAR THAT ONE TOO!
Your group takes stock of the supplies, and the conversation soon drifts to the ritual.
Do you all really believe there's a goddess at the peak who can grant any wish?
William asks, feigning casualness.
At least the locals all believe it, after what happened to the last climbing team.
The last climbing team?
Yes. Ever since word of the Mountain Goddess spread, Hyperborea has become a land entirely ruled by the pursuit of wishes, with a whole society built around the climb. That climbing team was the most disciplined and highly trained of any team that ever tried; they had the best shot at reaching the summit.
Seven of them set out. But one by one, they died during the climb.
One left the tent in the middle of the night and walked barefoot into a blizzard; another cut their own safety rope and leaped from an ice cliff;
And another went missing for several days, only to be found frozen to death ahead of the group...
As if even after dying, he had kept on climbing.
The busy rustle of sorting supplies gradually slows to a crawl.
In the end, only one person made it back down alive.
Though it would be hard to say he was "alive"...
What do you mean?
All ten of his fingers had rotted from frostbite, and his ears were packed with blood-soaked snow. No matter what anyone asked, he would only repeat the same few phrases over and over.
Naraka lowers his voice, mimicking the delirious murmur of that survivor.
"The legend is real. The wish at the summit is real."
"Cover your ears. Don't listen."
"Those who hear the song will be lured in, consumed... and then rise to the sky, becoming the moon."
And then what?
And then...
Naraka curls his lips into a strange, ambiguous smile.
The locals believed they must have desecrated the mountain goddess. Fearing these outsiders may bring the goddess's wrath upon their villages...
...They waited until night, and threw that survivor into a bottomless crevasse in the ice.
Is that the end of your story?
Of course not.
From then on, on every full moon, anyone passing by that crevasse would hear someone singing from below.
And so everyone knew: he had been telling the truth. There must be something up on that mountain.
Naraka lowers his head again, coiling the rope loop by loop into his pack, as if what he'd just said were nothing more than a trivial old tale.
In the brief silence, there is only the wind sweeping past the tent, letting out a thin, muffled moan.
I've also heard tell that during their climb, the song of a siren reached their ears.
There you go again with your nonsense. Sirens are sea monsters. How could one turn up on a mountain?
Caraboo purses her lips in displeasure and lets out a soft huff.
If the sea can have singing monsters, why can't the mountains?
Believe it or not, that's up to you. When you hear the singing, remember to cover your ears.
Just as you're about to press further, you realize Caraboo has already turned and walked into the cabin, with no intention of continuing the discussion.
...
Seven Days Later
That's the end of today's training. Tomorrow's the real climb.
Caraboo steps forward, blocking Naraka as he turns to leave.
Aren't you going to perform the Lhasang Ritual?
The Lhasang Ritual, what's that?
Before every ascent, ten out of ten Sherpas perform this prayer ritual. Have you no reverence for the gods?
Naraka slaps his forehead.
Ah, with so much going on, it slipped my mind.
How could you forget something like that?
It's fine, I'll throw together a quick one tomorrow morning.
...
You roll your aching shoulders and push open the door, a faint wisp of smoke already drifting through the corridor.
William stands a few steps away before a bronze mirror, smoothing out the creases at his collar one by one.
Good morning, Keeper.
You sniff the air. The air carries the scent of burning wood and herbs, with a crisp, icy fragrance layered beneath.
As you push open the main door, cold air and rich smoky fragrance rush in together.
In the open space of the courtyard, a small sang burner is alight. Pale bluish-white smoke rises from pine and cypress branches mingled with herbs, climbing straight up toward the gray-blue sky.
The Sherpa people regard mountain peaks as deities, and within Qomolangma, what we call Mount Everest, dwells the goddess Miyolangsangma, Mother of the World.
Before their first formal ascent, the Sherpa build an altar, raise prayer flags, recite scriptures, and perform the Lhasang beside it, letting the smoke carry their offerings and prayers to the gods.
The blessing ceremony is quite elaborate: a full ritual can last as long as three to four hours.
Naraka takes a bundle of pine and cypress branches from a cloth pouch and distributes them to everyone.
Raise them high. Draw close.
He brings his own branches near the brazier to light them, then joins the rest of you.
The flames pass from branch to branch, the flickering firelight illuminating each upturned face one by one.
In the stillness, you almost hear deep chanting, bells, and drums drifting from somewhere nearby.
Now cry out Lha Gyalo, then cast them into the fire.
A hoarse but powerful voice echoes through the thin air, and with each cry, branches fall into the fire one by one.
Lady of the mountain, we thank you for tolerating our disrespectful intrusion into the sacred domain.
Pine and cypress branches crackle in the fire, sending gray smoke rising straight up before being torn apart by the high winds.
And from within it, you catch a whiff of something ominous.
...
Alright, that covers the dangers of this climb and our contingency plans.
Over the past week, you've all adjusted to moving in gloves, mountaineering boots, and snow goggles, and mastered the use of ropes and ice screws.
Based on our monitoring these past few days, the next five to seven days offer the best weather window. A good time to set out.
Check your personal supplies: route maps, food, fuel, oxygen tanks, medical kits, and other provisions.
Once again, during the climb you must fully obey the guide's instructions. Aside from those who withdraw early, no one is permitted to act on their own.
If everyone is ready, let's move out!
...
...
You've been traveling through the mountains for barely half a day when the clear skies turn overcast.
The wind and snow intensify abruptly; even the ridgelines of the mountains are barely distinguishable, and the guide dogs whimper, unwilling to press on.
Strange. According to our monitoring, abnormal weather shouldn't hit this quickly.
Has something like this happened before?
Never. Even when monitoring deviates, it usually only shows up three days after the predicted result.
An unnatural blizzard... it's as if... the mountain is rejecting us.
Impossible! How could that be when I, the great mountain goddess, am right here?
There's no need to worry too much. Even on the way down, you sometimes run into an unexpected blizzard.
There's a shelter nearby, even has a small stash of supplies. Let's rest there, wait out the storm, and set off again.
Then what are we waiting for? Let's get moving!
3. Seventh Traveler, before the fight
98 linesAfter Naraka leads the group on for a while, a dark gap opens up in the mountainside.
Let's go in.
You help each other down the rugged rocks, and you look back toward the cave entrance.
The crack is narrow and smooth, like a half-open slit eye, keeping the wind and snow at bay.
It's so... warm in here...
Huff, huff... As the mountain goddess, how did I not know about a place like this?
Of course. A Sherpa guide doesn't collect his fee for nothing.
The elders say this crack appeared right after an avalanche.
No other climbing teams have come through recently. We can rest here undisturbed...
Before Naraka can finish speaking, a rustling echoes from the corner of the cave.
...Hm? Is someone there?
William's question echoes through the cave, but no one answers.
We're with a climbing team, just here to shelter from the storm. We mean no harm.
You call out reassuringly, raising your lantern as you step toward the rocks.
Watch out!
The figure behind the rocks tenses. Before anyone can explain, a fierce assault strikes from the darkness.
Perhaps knowing the odds were against him, the attacker vanishes back into the shadows after a single strike. But in that brief exchange, you recognize him.
Castor?!
After a moment, a figure in a black cloak emerges from the shadows, half a wary face peeking out from behind the hood.
...You know me?
Yes... I mean, no, but... that's quite a long story to tell...
So, why are you here alone?
...
...
Well, Pollux... my brother. We planned to escape the Church of the Lightbearers. We were supposed to slip away one after the other, using different routes. But I waited a whole month at our meeting spot... and he never showed up.
I think my escape must have made Lady Juliette tighten her watch. Ever since, I've been searching for a way to free him.
Fortunately, I managed to stay hidden and shake off their pursuit.
Then I heard that a deity who can grant any wish dwells on top of this mountain.
But I can't join any climbing team... The Church has eyes everywhere. Showing my face too often is too risky.
Stupid.
Uh...?
I've never seen anyone as stupid as you.
Let's say, hypothetically, you can reach the top. Then where would you find the seven artifacts?
Exactly! Which is why you need the mountain goddess's help right now.
Come on, just join the Holy Order. Once we reach the summit, I'll help end your suffering. No more separation from your brother!
Really?
Of course! Couldn't be more real.
However, to show your sincerity to the Holy Order, all treasures you carry must be handed over to the Fairy for safekeeping.
...Alright.
Castor hesitates for a long while before pulling out a few coins and a well-worn storybook.
This is all I have. Will you let me join?
William taps your arm.
Are you done watching?
Ahem, well then, Castor, welcome to the team.
Caraboo was just teasing you. As long as you bring your own supplies, you don't need to hand over anything extra.
Hmph, the mountain goddess wouldn't bother with such a paltry offering anyway. Keep it.
Castor smooths the creases from the storybook with reverent care, then tucks it back against his chest.
Then he glances at the few coins, his eyes drifting between the people around him.
Since no one wants them, I'll gladly help myself.
Naraka waves a hand, and the stone platform is instantly bare.
I'm charging you a lot less than usual, young man.
If I recall correctly, we've already paid your guide fee.
If there's an extra fee to pay, I'll cover it for him.
That's alright. We're strangers. I couldn't possibly trouble you like this...
Evelyn cuts him off with an outstretched hand. Castor hesitates half a second, then clasps it in return.
Evelyn. My name is Evelyn. I'm an archaeologist.
Now we're not strangers anymore, are we?
...
The blizzard traps you all in the narrow cave. With no fire yet, conversation is your only defense against the cold.
You said earlier that you're looking for your twin brother, right?
Yes.
Castor gives a cautious nod.
What a coincidence, I'm also looking for my twin sister.
Faint and I are very different. My sister may be in poor health, but she is truly brave and strong.
At the mention of her twin sister, Tinct seems to have come out of her bubble. A faint smile crosses her face.
And what about Pollux? What kind of person is he?
Pollux...
We are very different, too. He's clever, sharp, and quick to understand. Ever since we were children, Lady Lantern and our teachers always liked him more...
It's okay. You have your own strengths. Didn't you successfully shake off the Church's tracking? That's quite impressive.
Castor's face flushes slightly. He clears his throat and steers the conversation back to Tinct.
You and your sister... What separated you?
We were fleeing. She gave me the last boarding pass.
Her voice is soft, as if speaking any louder would scatter that memory into the wind.
May we both find them again, in the end.
Castor falls silent for a moment, his eyes drifting past her and settling on the churning white storm outside.
The minutes pass as their conversation drifts on.
...
By the seventh hour, the storm reaches an almost malicious peak.
It seems we'll be spending the night in this cave.
Naraka clears away the damp remains of an old fire at the center of the cave and tries to kindle a new one with dry wood.
From the deeper in the cave comes a faint scraping sound, as if something were dragging its nails across the stone.
Rats?
There shouldn't be rats at this altitude...
The sound stops abruptly. The silence inside the cave is unsettling.
From within that darkness, so thick not a single ray of light could pass through, you can almost feel a wave of malice coming at you.
Naraka raises the torch toward the sound, deeper into the cave. The firelight advances only a few steps before the darkness swallows it.
Don't go over there.
I'll just take a quick look.
Naraka braces against the rock wall and carefully leans forward.
The flickering light passes over the stone ledge at his feet and illuminates a pitch-black pool below. Its surface is smooth, without a single ripple, nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding shadows.
There's water down there. Looks pretty deep...
Before the words even fade, that pitch-black "water" caves inward.
Naraka pitches sideways, one foot already half-sunk into the widening gap.
I've got you!
You grab his collar and yank him backward to the ground.
Watch out! Something's rising to the surface!
4. Seventh Traveler, after the fight
15 linesAn eerie calm returns to the cave, and the shaken group exchanges glances.
Strange... I've accompanied climbing teams to this altitude many times, but I've never encountered anything like this...
It just goes to show, the dangers on this mountain aren't limited to minus-thirty temperatures and thin air.
Caraboo lowers her voice and speaks slowly in a tone that sends chills down everyone's spines.
The mountain goddess is real.
The mountain goddess does not welcome you. She does not welcome those who lack devotion.
An awkward silence.
Just kidding! You didn't actually believe that, did you?!
I am the kindest mountain goddess you'll ever meet! With my blessing, the mountain will welcome you all the way to the summit.
It's just that there's something else within this mountain scheming to steal your wishes.
Stop frightening everyone, Caraboo.
Believe it or not, it's up to you. This mountain goddess can tell: it's near our group, following close behind...
None of you can tell from her tone whether she's putting on an act or has genuinely sensed something.
The wind and snow gradually subside.
And so, under that heavy mood, you set off once more.
5. The Unfrozen Moon, before the fight
105 linesThe blizzard has stopped at some unknown moment, leaving behind a vast, scary silence. Above is a deep blue sky without a single cloud, even the distant peaks stand out in perfect clarity.
Beneath the boundless clear sky, you walk all the way to the shore of a frozen lake.
Tinct stares blankly at the lake, lost in thought.
Is there something in the lake?
No, no, it's nothing... nothing at all...
Tinct snaps back to her senses. She looks as though she wants to say something but holds back.
After a long moment, she turns to you and speaks in a quiet voice.
I'm sorry, I don't know why, but you feel deeply familiar to me. So... would you hear me out?
You readily agree.
I know this is hard to believe, but I come from a star very, very far away. I've drifted for so long that all I can remember is that in its final days, we called it the Desolate.
I have traveled an immeasurable span of time to reach this place.
I believe you.
What I'm trying to say is... the Desolate is so far away that even imagining it, let alone describing it, is difficult.
But just now, in the lake... I thought I saw my sister, Faint.
Tinct bites her lip.
No, that's not quite right either... I sensed some kind of omen. The shadow in the lake... it came from the Desolate, too...
I know it's impossible, but I feel like... it wasn't a hallucination...
You look exhausted.
Evelyn's expression turns to one of concern.
If you're feeling tired, make sure to rest.
We haven't been out long, and heading back down alone wouldn't be too dangerous.
No...! I'm not tired! I'M NOT LEAVING!
To everyone's surprise, Tinct lets out a sharp, distressed cry.
Realizing all eyes are on her, Tinct forces herself calm, but her heaving chest betrays her.
Sorry... I lost my composure. Thank you for your concern, but I'm not tired.
Lying's no fun, you know.
I've made up my mind. I won't fall behind.
Tinct presses her lips together once more, glances back at the frozen lake, and sets off.
On the icy surface of the lake, only her blurred reflection remains.
After half a day's march, you find a flat patch of ground and set up camp. Naraka has everyone gather snow to melt it over the alpine stoves.
But when you return with the snow, thick smoke is billowing near the campsite.
Huh? Whose bag is on fire over there?!
Hm...? No!!!
Flames lick at the small cloth pouch Caraboo has been guarding like treasure.
Wait, is that a bag of gold coins in your pack?
Under the flames, the gold coins soften and slump inward.
It's fine! No problem! I'll save them myself!
No, let me take a look!
As the wrapper tears open, all the half-melted gold coins scatter across the ground.
One rolls to a stop at William's feet. He bends down and picks it up.
Debauve & Gallais, Pistoles de Marie chocolate...
Chocolate?!
Ha, haha... Yeah, it's chocolate... but it's still very expensive!
Cut the crap. Can't pay the money? Then get out of my team!
No, please, I don't know the way on my own...
If you kick me out, I'll die for sure on the way down!
To hell with you. What's the point of wailing now? If you're gonna cheat people, be ready to get caught!
Seeing Naraka won't budge, Caraboo looks around, then drops to her knees with a thud and clings to your leg for dear life.
Please, kind soul, you couldn't possibly leave a poor young girl to make her way down the mountain all alone, could you?
Waaah, it's always like this. I'm always abandoned. No matter where I go, everyone despises me for being penniless...
You're such a good person, so kind! You must be different from the rest of them. You'll help me, won't you?
She looks up at you, eyes brimming with tears.
...Fine. I'll pay her guide fee once we're down the mountain.
Unable to hold out against her tearful stare, you give in.
Thank you, thank you so much, my benefactor!! You're the greatest, most magnificent savior Caraboo has ever known!!
Caraboo instantly dries her tears and springs to her feet with a grin.
Benefactor, once I've reclaimed my power as the mountain goddess, I'll repay your kindness a thousandfold!
When that day comes, forget thirty gold coins, three hundred, three thousand, I'll pay you back with ease!
Sure, sure.
You reply dismissively.
After all, you still have a mountain to climb together. You just want to put this drama behind you.
The situation finally settles down, and everyone returns to their tasks or rests.
William pulls you aside and speaks to you in a low voice.
Something's odd. I remember Caraboo's bag wasn't in that spot before.
Who moved it near the campfire?
Water's boiled. Everyone have some to warm up.
Is there any garlic soup?
You're asking me? We don't have anything like that. Make do with hot water.
Hmph, nothing, huh... So much for being the best Sherpa guide around, charging such a hefty fee for this.
Seeing the tension about to flare up again, Evelyn quickly cuts in.
If you want something hot, I have some hot chocolate here.
And you, Castor. Are your rations running a bit short? I noticed you haven't been eating much.
Me? I'll be fine. During ascetic practice, we only eat one meal a day.
We're climbing a snowy mountain. You can't afford to run low on an empty stomach.
My husband was just like you, always preferred the lightest pack.
But he learned to bring more supplies ever since he got trapped in a blizzard for days.
Your husband... is he a mountaineer too?
Yes, a very accomplished one. He's attempted Everest and K2 before.
And then what?
And then?
Everyone follows his eyes. Caraboo wears a cheerful smile, her hand quietly tugging at Castor's sleeve.
Caught in the act, she withdraws her hand with a hint of embarrassment and mutters under her breath.
Blockhead.
It's alright...
My husband... he went missing during his last attempt to summit Everest. No one knows where he went. His body was never found.
I used to go with him every time, waiting around Camp 2.
Now that he's gone, I want to see the views he once saw...
Evelyn stares toward the distant ridge. The ancient peaks stand in silence, answering only with the howl of the wind.
This time, we'll reach the summit for sure.
That's what I believe.
Not long after, Caraboo returns to her happy-go-lucky self, strolling about with her hands behind her back.
She leans in close to Castor with a secretive air.
Hey, blockhead, don't you get the feeling that someone's been following us?
Doesn't seem like it. I've been on guard against the Church this whole way, and you're the first people I've run into...
I haven't sensed anything either.
Really? Guess I was overthinking it, then.
Oh well. Cunning liars always show up wearing the face of a most innocent victim...
She hums a little tune and skips back to the front of the group.
What did she mean by that?
I didn't understand it either.
Hey~ keep up, don't fall behind~
The two of them, utterly baffled, have no choice but to move on.
-Altitude 6000m-
6. Good Night, before the fight
71 linesAt midnight, Tinct is woken by a distant, faint sound.
(Outside... is that... singing?)
The sound is extremely soft, seeping up from some unfathomable depth through countless stacks of ice, snow, and rock.
It is hoarse and slow, each syllable sounds like windswept sand rolling across the earth. Stubborn and unceasing, it goes on like an underground river flowing on forever.
(So distant, yet so familiar...)
Her teammates in the nearby tents are all deep asleep, exhausted from the day's climb. Even the guide dogs are snoring.
I'll go take a look.
She pulls open her sleeping bag, lifts the tent flap, and slowly eases herself outside.
Behind her, someone silently opens one eye, watching her go.
Tinct follows the trail of the song, walking slowly. Ice shards and frozen earth crunch softly beneath her thin-soled shoes.
The lake, frozen solid in the daylight, has somehow awakened.
Its still, waveless surface faces the heavens like a bright mirror, quietly reflecting the eternal moon.
She peers down into the depths of the lake.
The lake is bottomless, as if it pierces through the earth itself, leading somewhere farther than the stars.
A song drifts on the wind. Raspy, ancient, as though it has weathered an unimaginably long passage of time and still has not ceased.
La, la la~ la~ ♪
Tinct closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
(A familiar melody... nostalgic... presence...)
The timbre calls to mind a dried riverbed, sandstone weathered for a hundred thousand years, the cries of ancient forests crushed into coal under geological ages.
(It's... a melody... from the Desolate...)
Memories from a thousand years ago slowly stir awake, and she begins to hum along, trying to keep pace with the elusive, drifting song.
La la~ la la la~♪
She feels it. She catches it.
A pure joy rises upon her face.
Her range expands, reaching upward. A voice clear as a nightingale's winds gently around that hoarse, underlying melody.
The two voices begin to pull at each other, to intertwine, to draw near.
<Change>La la la la la la~♪
The ice closes inch by inch, and deep within the lake, countless pallid faces lift their heads, following the song.
But Tinct is completely unaware.
There is only the song. It crosses frozen snowfields, vast stellar seas, eternal ages, becoming something that ought to be regarded as everlasting.
Yes... I shouldn't deceive myself any longer...
I no longer... want to keep searching... There is no hope anywhere... She lives in my memory, and only in my memory...
The familiar figure in the water reaches out to her.
An aged voice calls to her tenderly, calling her by the name she bore a thousand years ago.
...@1@3...
I should just give up...
This journey has been too long, far too long. I have been so very, very weary for a long time now...
The calling resonates in her very bones, bestowing the solace she has craved. The anguish she has nowhere to place, the grief she has nowhere to pour, at last, some presence knows and embraces it all.
Hold me, Faint... shadow in my memories... hold me, like you used to...
Grant me... the peace I long for...
Gently, so gently, she steps into the still waters of the lake.
The lake does not stir a single ripple. Like a cold tongue, it laps tenderly at her waist, her shoulders, her throat.
<Change>La la...
She is still singing.
Her silhouette, her body, her very being grow thin along with the song, dissolving and scattering in the moonlight.
A thought, a thought so faint it is nearly impossible to grasp, inexplicably creeps into Tinct's consciousness at that very moment.
(Strange... tonight... it was supposed to be a new moon...)
And then, the lake's surface collapses.
No splash, no cry. Only the song lingers and drifts.
At some point, the moon in the sky has vanished.
All that remains is the rippling lake that holds the moon's reflection, and within it, the clear silhouette of Tinct.
...
The following morning.
Has anyone seen Tinct?
Everyone shakes their heads.
Hmm... I heard some movement nearby last night, but I fell back asleep pretty quickly.
I've searched every tent. She's not in any of them.
Maybe she turned back partway?
Yesterday, by the ice lake, something seemed really off about her...
Evelyn mutters anxiously.
She didn't even take an oxygen tank when she left.
We're at six thousand meters. Up here, everyone must, and can only, be responsible for their own life.
At least... at least go take a look by the ice lake.
Should we go?
You want to search for Tinct, unwilling to give up even the slimmest chance. But every choice you make carries the lives of the whole team.
Let's go. The elevation here and at the ice lake is nearly the same, the round trip should be managable.
The only thing to watch for is the wild beasts along the way.
7. Good Night, after the fight
21 lines...
You linger by the ice lake. The surface is mirror-smooth and pristine, the surrounding expanse visible in every direction... but there is no sign of Tinct.
Amid the wind echoing through the peaks, Tinct's singing and faint sobbing seem woven into the sound, fleeting and uncertain, impossible to tell whether it's real or imagined.
Tinct... is she not coming back?
No one contradicts her.
Strange. Was this here yesterday?
On the surface of the ice lake, sealed silently within the transparent ice, lies a perfectly round mirror.
The Mirror of Yata! This is the Mirror of Yata that must be offered to the mountain goddess!
William, you look like you have something to say.
The Mirror of Yata, together with the Kusanagi Sword and the Yasakani no Magatama, make up the Three Sacred Treasures of Takamagahara mythology. In common depictions, the Mirror is made of metal, with traditional patterns carved on its back.
But look at this mirror...
Its surface is thin, flat, and pristine, perfectly round in shape, like a bright moon hanging high in the sky.
Beneath the cold glass surface, faint luminous particles seems to drift about.
Either way, let's take it out and have a look first.
Naraka raises an ice pick and chips easily through the ice, pulling the mirror free.
Caraboo darts forward and snatches it away, tucking it swiftly into her pack.
What?! What are you looking at, don't look at me!
This was the mountain goddess's treasure to begin with! Of course it belongs to me now that it's been found!
No one bothers to contest her claim.
Compared to a plain-looking mirror, Tinct's disappearance is clearly the more pressing concern.
Yet no one speaks of it again. Its shadow lingers all the same, pressing heavy and inescapable on every heart.
8. Do Not Answer, before the fight
60 linesThe blizzard has eased, yet the sky looks even grimmer than when the storm was at its worst.
Lead-gray clouds hang low over the mountain ridge, like a heavy, lingering old dream that refuses to disperse.
No one speaks. The guide dogs lead the way, and even they suppress their habitual whimpers.
Slow down, the terrain doesn't look right.
This stretch used to be a straight slope, but now it's split open with crosswise gullies.
These are new crevices formed after the last avalanche... they shouldn't be this deep.
The shape of the mountain is changing.
William said no more. His dark eyes gazed into the distance, his brow furrowing slightly.
Castor walks at the rear of the group, quieter than usual.
Hey, blockhead. Are you cold?
I'm fine.
The group halts. Everyone turns back as one. Behind them lie only their own footprints, pressed deep and shallow into the snow.
Along the edges of the footprints, the snow is clean. Clean as though something has gently brushed it away.
Silence. Only the wind. The wind sweeps in from far away, curling around the ridge and slipping into every collar.
The wind carries a sound, barely audible. It is not a song. It is a call.
<Change>...Eve...lyn...
?!
She spins around sharply. The snowfield stretches vast and empty. You see nothing there. But the voice comes again, closer this time, carrying a tenderness that is almost cruel.
<Change>...Evelyn... I'm cold...
Is that...
Impossible...
The color drains from her face in an instant. Her lips go pale, her voice trembling, as though the moment she has imagined countless times has finally arrived.
Did you... did you all hear that?!
It's him.
That's his voice...
Mrs. Evelyn, whatever voice you heard, whoever it may be, please do not respond to it.
Hold your breath. The wind of the snowfield sweeps past your ears, and then... You all hear it too.
The wind becomes countless voices, countless clinging calls. Each one drifting from a direction you once knew, and once lost.
A voice. A voice calling out to you. A beautiful, chilling voice.
<Change>I'm waiting for you, partner...
<Change>Don't fall behind. We'll reach the end of this together.
Ramona...
You clench your teeth, suppressing the urge to follow.
Your feet feel frozen into the snow, refusing to obey. You can feel a force, impossibly light, impossibly gentle, coming from the direction of the voice, slowly, slowly drawing your weight forward.
It is an invitation. An invitation impossible to refuse.
All you need is one step forward, and you could return to any warm moment from the past...
Keeper!
William's voice reaches you from somewhere far away. Only then do you realize you've already taken half a step forward without knowing when.
A couple guide dogs lie dead on the ground next to you, their throats brutally torn apart, with crimson blood splattered in jarring, stark patches across the pristine white snow.
Step back.
Give me your hand.
William's face is pale as paper, and the hand gripping your arm trembles despite himself.
You can feel him straining to hold himself back, to resist the lure of that voice.
That voice is false. You must wake up.
He speaks in a very low voice, as if pronouncing a verdict.
Sob... Aunt Rosa...
Caraboo stirs as if waking from a dream, still murmuring something.
But not everyone can wake up.
...Brother, I'm cold...
Brother, the cell is so dark, I'm so scared... please... let me out... Her Holiness, she...
...Brother, why won't you come find me...
POLLUX!! Wait for me, I'm coming...
STOP! YOU IDIOT!
Ignoring your calls, Castor charges forward.
9. Do Not Answer, after the fight
27 linesYou lunge and grab Castor around the waist from behind, holding tight. He's still struggling, his voice nearly torn raw as he howls into the blizzard.
Castor, that's not him.
How would you know it's not him?! You don't even know him!
None of you know him! Only I do, I know his voice!! I'm the one who left him there!
It's the first time he has raised his voice at William. Then he startles himself with his own voice.
Castor, calm down. That's a Wendigo.
The Wendigo, monster of the mountains... it unearths the deepest shadows buried in your heart...
Then, it borrows the voice of the one you long for, luring travelers into its trap.
No, what makes you so certain,
Evelyn walks over, step by step. She crouches down, meeting the eyes of the young man you and William have pinned into the snow.
Castor, listen to me. I once believed that the Wendigo was a creature that existed only in legend.
But just now... I heard it.
I heard... my husband calling out to me.
Since the day he disappeared, I've heard that kind of call every day, but never once this clearly, this vividly...
Evelyn's voice goes faintly hoarse for a moment.
But Castor... do you know...
It has been over ninety days since my husband went missing on the snowy mountain. The best window for a rescue has long since passed.
At best, I would only find his remains somewhere along a mountain path.
He won't be alive... here. Your brother, even less so.
We must keep going up, all the way to the peak of the mountain.
That is the only chance we have to be reunited with them.
Under Evelyn's soothing words, Castor gradually grows calm.
You're right... there wouldn't be a solitary confinement room on a snowy mountain... he wouldn't be in a place like this.
I'll keep going... until I'm reunited with him.
Behind you, someone taps an ice pick against the rock twice with a steady knock.
If everyone's settled down now, we need to get ready for the real threat.
The Wendigo.
10. Day of Leaving the Nest, before the fight
31 linesWendigo.
William enunciates each word carefully.
"Its feet are forged of fire, when it runs, the snow burns beneath its steps."
As recorded in "Northern Frontier Chronicles," Volume Seven: Whosoever hears a whisper on a winter's night must not answer.
Answer once, and it remembers your name; answer twice, and it knows your shadow; answer a third time, and you become it.
Can't we go around it?
It's no use. Wherever wind and snow reach, that is the Wendigo's domain.
They were once human. They transformed by devouring their own kin, and ever since, their lips and teeth have rotted away, leaving them eternally starving, they could devour an entire forest and still not be full.
We only repelled one attack just now, but its assault won't stop.
In a place as treacherous as these mountains, everyone is bound to have their moments of weakness...
That's exactly when they're easiest to fool.
Caraboo produces an apple from seemingly nowhere, takes a crunching bite, and adopts the carefree look of someone who absolutely did not just say that.
...You're not wrong about that.
In any case, we need to find it, and then catch it.
But they leave no tracks in the snow. How are we supposed to...
Caraboo points to the last guide dog you have. It has crouched low, whimpering softly.
Don't move, and don't say a word.
She tosses the half-bitten apple to you.
Hidden in the bite is a small note: No matter what I say next, don't believe a word.
Caraboo goes quiet. She closes her eyes, then opens them again.
In that instant, her expression changes. Dazed, anxious, distant, a tangle of emotions swirls in her eyes.
Aunt Rosa, is that you?
Are you making apple pie again? I can smell it.
Aunt Rosa, I'll never complain about the crust being too thick again. I haven't had apple pie that good since. I miss that toasty smell.
Aunt Rosa. I'm coming to find you now. Wait for me...
Caraboo staggers forward.
On the snow behind Caraboo, two mounds, each about a person and a half tall, burst from the ground.
It lunges at Caraboo. The moment it pounces, she ducks low.
William, get ready!!
11. Fireside, After Dark, before the fight
131 linesThe blizzard hasn't let up. You search along the ice fissures for shelter and finally find a wind-sheltered snow cave beneath a rock face.
The entrance is narrow, but inside, the cave is surprisingly spacious.
Nobody go in yet.
He raises his ice axe and taps along the inner rim of the cave entrance, inch by inch.
This part's loose. When we set up camp, don't pitch directly beneath it.
He hunches over and moves deeper into the cave, crouches with his ear to the ground for a moment, then tests the moisture of the rock face with the back of his hand.
Come on in. Should be safe.
Faded markings linger on the rock wall, the outline of some kind of symbol, the paint long since peeled away to near-illegibility.
A few moldy wooden crates are piled in the corner. Deeper in, a broken length of iron chain is nailed into the rock.
Someone used to live here?
It's an old climbing team's shelter. Been abandoned for years. The fire pit's over there. I'll go clear it out.
With practiced ease, he walks to a smoke-blackened stone platform at the center of the cave, crouches down, and begins clearing away the old ashes.
Castor's eyes linger briefly on the carvings. He says nothing, and simply looks away.
Before anyone can ask, everyone's attention is pulled toward Caraboo's shout.
A nice warm cave! A campfire! A long rest!
Caraboo is overjoyed.
Though everyone is pushing through on sheer willpower, you can tell the battle with the Wendigo has left them all utterly exhausted.
A perfectly timed cave. A perfectly timed rest.
Whatever dangers lurk ahead, nothing can stop you from savoring this moment of ease.
The fire is lit just inside the entrance, close to the mouth. The angled wind carries the smoke back outside.
Evelyn pulls a roll of ground pad from her pack, presses down a thin layer of snow first, then lays the mat over it.
Everyone peels off their frost-stiffened coats and gathers around the fire, reaching their hands as close to the flames as they dare.
I wish it could always be this warm on the mountain.
Pfft.
What are you laughing at?
Laughing at you for not watching your words, blockhead. What if the mountain goddess took that as your true wish and granted it?
That wouldn't be so bad. It'd make things a lot safer for everyone who climbs.
The firelight reflects in Castor's earnest eyes.
Never mind. No fun teasing you, blockhead.
What about you, Caraboo? Any wishes?
Caraboo seems caught off guard by the sudden question. After a brief pause, her eyes flick about.
I'm the mountain goddess! I'm the one who grants your wishes!
If I had to name a wish, it'd be to reclaim my divine authority.
Yes! Exactly! Once I reclaim my authority, I'll rebuild the Holy Order! I'll have the whole continent worshipping the mountain goddess!
Evelyn lets out a soft laugh. Firelight flickers in her dark eyes.
And the rest of you?
She turns to you, her eyes free of any probing, just the casual warmth of idle conversation.
I'm curious too! What kind of wish should I grant my benefactor?
Someone has shown me the path home. To get back, I need to find a certain person.
You're a blockhead too. Why not just wish to go home straight away?
Someone once wrote out a prophecy for me.
Fate is a warp and weft of interlocking links. Those who seek to bypass any one of its knots and leap straight to the end shall suffer the agony of a broken thread.
I see. And what about Mr. William?
William's story is a bit complicated.
For now, at least, the most important thing to me is bringing %player% back to Mythag, back to Ramona.
You stare at William in astonishment. His face is calm, you can't find a single trace of deception in his expression.
Don't stare at me like that.
My other duties in this world have come to a temporary end.
As he says this, William deliberately lifts a hand to brush the hair from his eyes, hiding most of his expression.
And you, blockhead?
Me?
Castor stares blankly into the fire.
I want Pollux... back.
Caraboo looks up at Castor, and the usual glint of cynicism briefly fades from her eyes.
Just now, you said you wanted him to come back.
But when we first met, you said you wanted to save him.
There's a subtle difference between those two... though it's not impossible to reconcile them.
Castor, your brother, was he really imprisoned by that Lady Lantern?
A brief silence. Caraboo picks up the apple, takes another bite, and changes the subject as if nothing had happened.
Honestly, granting wishes is pretty easy.
Look, isn't one of those seven treasures some kind of feather? Maybe the one you're carrying is the Feather of Ma'at.
Ma'at, goddess of truth, order, and justice, wears an ostrich feather upon her head.
At the judgment of the dead, Anubis places the heart of the deceased on a scale alongside this feather. If the heart is heavier than the feather, it is devoured by the monster Ammit; if the heart is as light as the feather, the soul is granted entry into the Field of Reeds.
The feather represents "innocence" in Egyptian mythology.
The Feather of Innocence... how ironic.
Castor gives a rueful, resigned smile.
These wings were implanted in me and my brother by Juliette, head of the Church of the Lightbearers, to create her god.
In his voice, you hear something, a pain that cannot be suppressed.
Later, she tore Pollux's wings out. Now only I still bear these desecrated wings.
Castor gently strokes the feathers at the tips of his wings, and for a moment you seem to see them stained with blood.
So, if we're talking about innocence... these wings may be the furthest thing from it.
The air falls quiet, broken only by the crackle of the fire.
Naraka, and your wish?
William whips around toward Naraka, who has been warming himself by the fire with no intention of joining in.
I'm just a guide. I hadn't planned on making any wishes with the rest of you.
If I absolutely had to name Naraka's wish, he might hope that the names of Sherpa guides could also be recorded in the annals of climbing history.
But having a wish like that granted by miracle would be too dull, don't you think?
Doctoring records to fabricate lies across history, too simple, too easy. So easy it loses all value.
Reaching the summit is something you have to do on your own two feet.
With your own...
Something in that seems to strike a chord in Castor.
Hey, you really don't seem like the type to say something that high-minded.
Caraboo pinches her nose and fans the air as if she'd caught a whiff of something foul.
Truth round, drop the act. Say something real, hm?
She stares playfully into Naraka's eyes. When he looks away, she bends down, keeping her eyes locked on his.
Come on, show me your real face!
Caraboo lunges forward, trying to snatch him like a hawk after a chick, but Naraka simply sidesteps with ease.
Cut it out. We've still got a long way tomorrow. I'd rather you didn't fail to reach the summit.
Caraboo misses her grab and simply plops down in the snow, grinning broadly.
Since you want us to reach the top too, I can rest easy now.
...
The campfire burns into the dead of night, reduced to scattered embers of red light.
Naraka divides the night watch into shifts, two hours each. One by one, the others drift off to sleep. Faint, muffled snoring rises from the sleeping bags.
Castor takes the first watch as a matter of course. He leans against the cave wall and reaches deep into his pack, pulling out a small book with worn, whitened corners.
It is a Storybook.
His fingertips trace over the two names on the title page.
The neat, childlike handwriting is his own; the other name is scrawled crookedly in red crayon, its color fades with the passage of time.
Pollux...
He closes his eyes, feeling the contours pass beneath his fingertips.
..."The villain cast a spell and turned his little brother into a crow."
..."But the elder brother knew the color of his wings."
The firelight flickers once, then dims again.
...
A long while later, he closes the book, rises to his feet, and walks quietly to the cave entrance, bending down to clear the ventilation gap that has been blocked by the night's snowfall.
Snow slips through his fingers, falling silently onto the small pile that has already gathered below.
Dawn has not yet broken.
You are roused by the faint light filtering in through the cave entrance.
Castor has already packed his belongings and stands at the cave entrance, waiting for you to wake.
I'm sorry. I'm leaving.
My wish is different from yours.
I want to find my brother, and I can do it with my own two hands.
But the road ahead is far too dangerous. Alone, you...
...There is one more thing. I've been hesitant about whether I should tell you. But now is the time to come clean...
Castor draws a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something difficult.
When we first met, Tinct said that while I may not be as likable as Pollux, I have my own strengths. That I could shake off the Church of the Lightbearers' pursuit on my own.
But that was a lie. I deceived you.
I am far weaker than you know. I couldn't do it.
The followers have been close on my heels the entire time. If I stay, I'll only drag all of you down.
He raises his head and looks deeper into the cave, where the others are still asleep.
That damaged symbol in the cave, I recognized it. It belongs to the Church of the Lightbearers.
This place is one of their temporary outposts.
The higher up we go, the more exposed it becomes. Sooner or later they'll find me. Better to leave early and blend into the crowd at the bottom. It'll be easier to hide.
He turns and walks into the wind and snow.
You stand in place and watch for a long time, until he's gone from sight.
Soft footsteps approach from behind.
Caraboo has gotten up at some point and is leaning against the cave entrance, gazing in the direction Castor has left.
...Stupid blockhead.
Her tone lacks its usual sharp edge.
The climbing team has gone from five to four.
12. Today the Birds Depart, before the fight
29 linesThe young man races through the snow.
Nothing can stop him now.
The path down the mountain... feels as light as riding the wind.
A path unburdened by lies makes his heart soar and float as well.
I'm sorry. I shouldn't have deceived you all.
Fortunately, there's still time to make things right.
Whenever he pauses for a moment, sounds like falling snow drift out from the forest behind him.
They are the sounds of footsteps coming to a sudden halt.
Stop hiding. You've been following me the whole way, haven't you?
I'm already alone, and no one is close enough to hear me call for help.
Let us... face... each other...
Yet the one who emerges from the forest seems to have walked straight out of his dreams.
No... you're...
He still carries himself as proudly as ever, but he's thinner than when they last parted.
My name is Pollux. By order of Her Holiness, I have come to apprehend the fugitive Castor.
The words no longer matter. His voice hums in Castor's ears like the murmurs of a dream.
A Wendigo?
No, this is no Wendigo. Even the most flawless illusion cannot replicate the raw, biting sting of reality.
Sinner... Castor... the holy light shall lay bare your transgressions.
Real. Rough. Ice-cold. Cruel. Harrowing.
Pollux...
A sharp, agonizing pain surges deep into his chest.
How long could he run from it? How much longer could he keep looking away?
Castor trudges through the snow, step by step, toward Pollux.
Kneel before the Lantern, and I shall absolve you of your sins, granting you rebirth in a new form upon the sinless holy land!
Castor does not obey. He simply keeps walking.
Even if it IS a Wendigo, it would not matter anymore. He presses on.
Pollux raises his knife. It is a familiar knife, the one that pierced Castor through the chest in their last pursuit.
One more step, and the holy light shall strike you down!
13. Today the Birds Depart, after the fight
69 linesYou... stay back!
Pollux's eyes go wide. He cannot fathom what is going through the mind of the madman before him.
There is no holy reverence on Castor's face, nor is there any fear of the blade pointed at him.
He simply steps forward... past the bared knife, past every barrier that once stood between them.
And finally, he pulls Pollux into a tight, crushing embrace.
Just as they once were, curled together in the dark warmth of amniotic fluid.
Come back to me, Pollux. Let's go back to how we used to be.
Pollux's eyes are filled with confusion, yet he cannot bring himself to break away from that forgotten warmth.
But a cold, commanding voice echoes in his mind.
<Change>Do you still remember your mission?
Eliminate... the traitor... I must...
The haze in Pollux's eyes clears, replaced by a hollow, vacant stare, the look of a puppet guided by a voice not his own.
Yes. That's right. I am a traitor. I'm the one who abandoned you and ran.
But I'm not leaving you behind anymore.
The traitor... Castor...
He is utterly lost, clawing to resist the command, desperate to hold onto something, as the voice in his head tears him apart.
Pollux, you've been trailing us this whole time. You must have run into the Wendigo, too.
What did it make you hear?
Pollux's pupils dilate, then slowly unfocus, sinking into a hollow, dream-like trance.
I heard... a voice calling my name...
He said... we were going to be magnificent knights.
Saddled on horseback, crossing great peaks, crossing rivers and oceans, slaying dragons...
And then, and then, at the very end of the dream...
...
No, no...!
It hurts so much, L-Lady Juliette, help, save me, please...
I am... noble... the one and only... Divus... please save me... I can't do this...
It's all right... you don't have to remember anymore.
It's too much pain for you to bear... so let me carry it for you. Just like we used to.
I am the older brother, after all.
Castor cradles Pollux in his arms, murmuring sweet, soothing words as if rocking a child to sleep.
Pollux's breathing slows. His head rests heavy against Castor's shoulder, his eyelids fluttering shut, little by little.
Castor...
Yes, I'm here... Castor is here...
Those vacant eyes clear in an instant. Pollux's voice is a fragile whisper, nearly lost to the howling wind, yet it finds its way unerringly to Castor's ears.
Brother. The word Castor had traced in his mind countless times finally echoes beside him once more.
Ah...
He wants to weep, to howl, to scream.
Even out here, in the middle of a vast, desolate snowfield, he wants to shout it to the heavens, pointless as it may be, that his brother has finally come back to him.
But he remains silent, as he always does. Just like when Pollux used to tease him for being as thick as a post, or when Caraboo mocked him for being a blockhead.
Pollux...
And then, high above the frozen peaks, far beyond where the eye can reach...
A cold stare of judgment descends.
<Change>Useless defectives.
Castor pulls his brother closer...
But it is in vain. A blinding light erupts from within Pollux's chest.
The light pierces clean through both their chests, tearing through Castor's tattered cloak, shredding the black wings wrapped around them both...
Like chains of pure white light, it binds them fast. A cruel vow that from this day forward, they will never be parted again.
Brother... I'm so sorry...
With those final, fading words, Pollux slumps against Castor's shoulder and slips into a deep, endless sleep.
This is... for the best... We'll never have to say goodbye again...
Just a small... selfish wish of mine...
He looks back up toward the frozen heights, picturing his companions, shoulder to shoulder, continuing their climb.
The illusion has shattered. This journey no longer belongs to him.
I traded one lie... for another...
Farewell... everyone... May you... reach the promised place...
A single black feather detaches from Castor's wing, caught by the icy gale and swept into the sky.
Go on in our stead... to that pure, sinless land you always dreamed of...
A narrow fissure opens beneath them, slowly pulling their heavy bodies down into the quiet cradle of the mountain's icy depths.
Good night, Pollux.
You forge ahead on a new mountain path, shifting the heavy weight of your gear.
A sudden gust of wind sweeps overhead, moving as if guided by a gentle, invisible hand.
Wait... what is that?
Sifting through the snow, a single, pitch-black feather drifts slowly downward.
You reach out a hand, and it settles gently into your palm.
Like a quiet blessing from somewhere far away.
-Altitude 7,000 m-
14. The Forerunner, before the fight
72 linesThis is the last rest point before the final summit push.
As you look back at the distant mountains, a vast expanse of ice and snow stretches beneath your feet, vanishing into the far horizon amid the mist of the pass.
The magnificent scenery brings a touch of refreshment to your weary souls.
W-wait a moment.
Evelyn gasps for breath. The low pressure at high altitude has clearly taken a serious toll on her body.
Behind her, by contrast, the petite girl moves with a light, easy step.
Now we've got the Mirror of Yata and the Feather of Ma'at. The Crown of Ariadne should be at the summit.
As for the Thread of the Moirae... Hehe, some of you won't tell me, but I know where it is. And I can get us a Golden Apple.
So we're still missing the Key of Solomon and the Eye of Balor.
Caraboo counts on her fingers, muttering to herself.
Do you think the Eye of Balor might just fall from the sky like the Feather of Ma'at did?
That joke isn't funny at all.
You don't know what happened to Castor, but his presence lingers on that pitch-black feather.
It's not far ahead now.
We cannot turn back before we reach the summit.
William pats you on the shoulder. Clearly, he knows what's on your mind.
You know what? I have a feeling.
Castor must have found what he was seeking, and that's why he left the group.
And if it's him, I'm sure he'll make his wish come true.
Evelyn gives a soft cough, as if to lend more weight to her words, and adds:
If a person lives long enough, even brief time spent together can offer a glimpse of which way another person's fate is heading.
What did you see in Castor?
Simplicity. And tenacity.
Until he finds that one answer, he will never stop. No hesitation, no giving up.
What about you, Evelyn? Where is your answer?
Up on the mountain.
Perfect, we're heading the same way!
Caraboo pulls out another apple from somewhere, tosses it up, and catches it.
If everyone's ready, let's begin the final stretch.
Don't let your guard down. A lot of accidents happen in the last thousand meters.
Towering before you is a nearly vertical wall of ice.
Naraka swings the ice axe, driving the pick diagonally into the hard snow with a muffled thud, then shifts his weight upward, his front points stepping precisely into the small hole left by the pick.
Strange, it looks like someone's been here recently.
Look here. There are some holes, almost like they were made by an ice axe.
Could they have been left by the previous expedition team?
Unlikely. Too much time has passed; the marks from back then would have been frozen again long ago.
Never mind, let's not overthink it. Someone having passed through is a good sign. It means this route is passable.
He unclips an ice screw from his harness and twists it into the ice, producing a teeth-grinding creak.
Once the screw is buried to its hilt, Naraka clips a carabiner onto it, threads the main rope through, and twists the gate shut.
First anchor point.
Everyone, clip your ascenders onto the main rope. Use the crampons on your boots to grip the holes I've chipped out, and advance slowly.
You find a solid hold overhead with your ice axe, drive the pick in firmly, then lift your right foot and kick hard into the ice face, letting those two steel points bite in.
Shift your weight onto your feet. Don't hug the ice wall.
You draw a deep breath of thin, aching air and push your body slightly away from the ice, letting the crampons bear your weight. Your left foot follows with another hard kick.
The ascender slides slowly upward with you, clicking idly with each small advance.
Halfway up, you're drenched in sweat, your once-focused concentration slipping away uncontrollably.
Stay sharp. This stretch leaves no room for any mishap.
The moment his words land, the mishap happens.
...
A flash of red light cuts through the darkness, and William catches a sudden scent...
Get down!
Before the words are even out, he lunges to shield you, pinning you down with his whole body. The two of you swing violently against the ice wall, suspended only by a single safety rope.
A thin bead of blood wells up on his cheek.
Tch. Fast reflexes.
From deep within the darkness, heavy chains drag across the floor, the sound of metal grinding against the ground low and drawn-out.
So it's you. The one who's been tailing us this entire time.
It's her...?
That's right. When we first ran into Castor, I warned you. Someone was following us.
What I don't understand is how she managed to get ahead of us.
No wonder she felt so strangely familiar.
I remember you...
Good. Saves us the introductions.
At the boundary of light and shadow, a figure slowly emerges.
Her arms have been severed at the shoulders. Trailing behind her are two heavy iron weights on chains, each embedded with an enormous, bloodshot eye glaring out at the world.
...Helot: Catena.
In the previous world, she was the last thing I saw before I died.
She was the one who killed me.
Back then, she took orders from Herbert... from the Sculptors' Association.
And now? Who sent you here?
Only a dog frets over who its master is.
There is only one thing I need to do. I'll make sure you all die here.
Countless black pustules swell up from the ground, surrounding you on all sides.
15. The Forerunner, after the fight
26 linesDamn it, why won't this black goo freeze?!
Ha. They were born in these snows.
The iron weights whirl through the air. You and William shield Evelyn and Naraka, struggling to hold your ground against the onslaught.
Caraboo is hiding somewhere behind a snowdrift, her figure concealed by the pure white snow.
Don't you think it's strange? She's been following us ever since we started up the mountain.
Why launch an attack now, of all times?
What if her goal isn't to kill us, but rather,
There's no time. The whirling chains have forced everyone apart, leaving no one free to look after the packs.
, She's after the treasure we're carrying!
Until this moment, no one had paid any mind to the "treasure" Caraboo kept whispering about.
After all, none of the legends about the Mountain Goddess ever mentioned such things.
They only say that once you reach the summit, your wish will be granted.
Got them.
None of you sees it coming when Catena's iron weight sweeps past you and hooks onto each person's pack.
Countless glittering gold chocolate coins fly out from the torn packs, scattering down along the cliff face.
Like a brilliant golden rain.
Tinct... Castor...
You are not yet sure what you've lost. But you must have lost something... something very important.
Don't give up! She's still heading for the altar at the summit!
There's still a chance before the ritual ends!
Caraboo is the first to rally and resume climbing, pausing to call out to you all.
For some reason, you see an inexplicable joy in her eyes.
Let's follow Caraboo.
We'll see Helot: Catena again... at the summit.
In the distance, the outline of the snowy mountain peak flickers in and out of view among the clouds.
-Altitude 7,950 m-
16. Looking Back, before the fight
94 linesFour lives, like four dice tossed onto the vertical board of the ice cliff, hang suspended.
Everyone clings to their safety lines, boots scraping desperately against the frozen rock, searching for a foothold.
There's a massive overhang up ahead. We'll have to climb over it.
You carefully edge around the boulder, testing each step to see if it's solid rock or just a fragile shelf of wind-packed snow.
Just as you round the bend, before you can even catch your breath, the ground drops away, a bottomless crevasse yawns directly beneath your boots.
Steady now. Whatever you do, don't look down.
You follow close behind Naraka, white-knuckling the rope as you struggle to cross the crevasse.
In your peripheral vision, the dark maw of the crevasse is a heart-stopping void, plunging into absolute nothingness.
Next comes Evelyn. William anchors the rear, keeping a watchful eye over the group.
Wait...
Evelyn's eyes lock onto a frayed length of rope dangling from the fractured ice wall.
This is... their rope! I know that logo!
The angle of the snow cornice! It forms a natural shelter, it kept this spot from being swallowed by the avalanches!
You look down toward where Evelyn is pointing. One glance into the yawning depths is enough to make your head spin.
I have to go find him!
Evelyn unclips her primary safety harness and begins to slide down into the gap.
It's too dangerous, Evelyn!
It's fine, this is exactly what I came here for! If we're talking danger, the climb itself is dangerous enough!
Don't worry about me. I'll catch up with you in a moment!
She seems entranced by something deep within the frozen fissure.
Evelyn, wait!
You reach for your own harness clip, taking a sharp breath as you prepare to drop down after her.
%player%...
William grabs your wrist, his grip firm, and slowly shakes his head.
We don't know if Helot is still out there. We can't risk having the entire team dangling in midair like sitting ducks.
Look up.
Caraboo has already scrambled over the lip of the final ice ridge.
Above lies the summit, the end of this journey, where wishes supposedly come true.
Below lies nothing but a bottomless, freezing void.
But we can't just leave her! We can't lose anyone else!
I know.
So, leave this to me.
Before the words even register, William unclips his harness and plunges straight into the abyss.
The sheer ice wall that took every ounce of your strength to scale is conquered in a matter of seconds on the descent. In a heartbeat, William and Evelyn have shrunk into two tiny, distant specks, swallowed by the narrow jaws of the crevasse.
You can only watch, frozen, as they sink deeper and deeper into the frozen throat of the mountain.
Then, you force your eyes upward and hammer the next piton into the ice.
...
...
The depths of the crevasse are endless. By the time William's boots finally touch level ground, he is enveloped in a suffocating, pitch-black dark. You cannot even see your hand in front of your face.
Wait, Evelyn...
The swaying headlamp beam reaches forward.
Beneath the ice crevasse appears to be a stalactite cave, its air unlike anywhere else. Cold, damp, with a strange odor carried on the wind.
Watch your step! There's a depression here...
The words die in his throat, instantly replaced by a sharp gasp of freezing air.
Where the flashlight beam lands, dozens of saponified corpses litter the ground.
Frozen in their final, desperate moments, they lie stacked in quiet layers, some curled tightly alone, locked in desperate embraces.
These are... the uniforms of the last climbing team. The one funded by the Green Foundation.
They're all here. Every single one of them.
After a long moment, Evelyn turns around and stares earnestly into William's eyes.
It doesn't look like there's anything here of use to you, is there?
If that's the case, would you mind letting me stay here alone for a while? I need to see if he's among them.
If I can... I need to talk to him.
These bodies... they could be carrying dangerous pathogens...
Evelyn meets his eyes with a quiet, unshakable resolve.
Understood.
But promise me. Promise me you will walk out of this place alive.
I promise you. I will meet you at the summit.
William gives her a slow nod.
I'll be waiting just outside.
...
...
After a very long time, so long that William could barely suppress the urge to go in and see for himself, he hears the faint rustle of clothing.
Evelyn finally emerges from the cave.
Did you... find him?
Yes.
Evelyn nods, her voice flat, entirely devoid of emotion.
My condolences.
Thank you.
Evelyn lets out a soft, humorless laugh.
I always knew it would end like this.
We're in the same shoes, you and I. I can tell.
You, too, are searching for someone who is never coming back.
It's always the same.
At first, you cling to hope. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he'll return tomorrow.
But one tomorrow comes and goes...
...And then another.
Hope wears thin, and your heart sinks a little deeper.
It falls, day after day. Down and down.
Until one day, you realize you've stopped waiting.
You eat, sleep, work, travel. You talk to people, laugh, make jokes, just like you always did.
And for a long, long time, you never speak of him again.
The flat mask of Evelyn's voice fractures.
But you know you haven't forgotten. You never did.
You never will.
All it takes is one rumor. One tiny spark of hope, and the fire catches again.
It will swallow you whole...
...and burn you to ash.
William snaps his head up, meeting Evelyn's eyes dead-on.
She only looks back at him gently. Through the glare of her goggles, he can't tell whether what fills those eyes is flame or emptiness.
Stop daydreaming. Let's go. I promised I'd make it to the summit with you all, didn't I?
For some reason, William has the feeling that despite their eyes meeting, the one she is truly speaking to is not him.
Evelyn is no longer waiting for him. She turns and walks toward the cave entrance, crouching down to check the guide rope, her movements crisp and practiced, as though the confession she has just made has never happened.
William stands rooted to the spot, words he couldn't bring himself to say lodged in his throat. He watches her shrink into the distance, then looks back at the dark, gaping mouth of the cave behind him.
No reason to linger any longer. Looking away, William silently follows in her footsteps.
17. Seven Strands of Fate, before the fight
47 lines-Altitude 8,800 m-
This is a place where no human has ever set foot.
Standing atop the snow-capped peak, gazing out at the vast white mountains, what echoes through your chest is not the triumph of reaching the summit.
It is fear.
The fear of being far from the world of men, the fear of being cut off from all that is familiar.
There are no higher peaks beyond this place. All a summiteer can do is kneel before the sky.
Everyone, we've reached the summit.
Yes, you have conquered the highest peak. You have fulfilled a long-cherished dream that has eluded countless climbers throughout history, surpassing all those at the foot of the mountain who coveted the Mountain Goddess's power.
Yet you stand empty-handed. The treasures you were supposed to offer are gone.
If the ritual formation at the summit is a fraud, if it's all a lie, does that mean we aren't getting out of here alive?
No one has an answer for you.
The pessimist says:
Then I suppose Naraka's wish will never come true. Walking on eggshells this entire journey, only to fail at the very end... but then, that's just how life goes, isn't it?
But the optimist says:
Ugh, shut up! I told you the goddess is real! Did you drag yourself all the way up here just to give up? Let's go get our treasures back!
Look over there!
Before she even finishes speaking, she dashes off toward the gentle slope on the other side.
It is a hexagonal altar.
At the center of the altar, a crown already rests.
A woman draped in chains seems to be taking stock of the treasures she has seized: the Silver Key and thread from %player%'s pocket, and from Caraboo's pack, a mirror, a black feather, and a golden apple.
The Eye of Balor?
Helot lets out a scornful laugh, then drives her sharp fingernails into the chain-ball at her side.
With a wet squelch, the chain-ball lets out a thick, viscous sound.
She stirs, she digs... until she finally pries out a blood-soaked eyeball from within.
There, it's all yours, you greedy thing.
She places each of the six treasures at a corner of the altar.
Now, it is time for my wish to be granted.
She closes her eyes.
Bring her back to life... let me slay my enemy with my own hands, and fulfill my long-awaited vengeance.
A biting wind cuts across the peaks of the snowfield. Her wish goes unanswered.
Why? Have I not already delivered all seven offerings to you?
Helot's demand echoes across the distant peaks, setting off one small avalanche after another.
Because some of the offerings were fakes.
Who?!
Caraboo comes bouncing forward, light on her feet, as if Helot were beneath her notice.
Aw, you people. You only ever think about your own wishes, and never stop to consider what offerings a deity truly desires.
The Golden Apple, the Golden Apple! You didn't actually think just any golden apple would do, did you?
She picks up the golden apple from the altar and takes a gentle bite.
Mm-hmm, just as I thought.
The golden foil peels away, revealing what lies beneath.
One could call it a snack, a candy, a chunk of cocoa... It's chocolate, about as ordinary as chocolate gets.
Ta-da! A blessing from the fairy, the most sublime of delicacies!
You... you fraud...
A robber isn't much better than a fraud, is she?
Save your breath and hand over the real Golden Apple!
You'd better ask them whether they agree to that.
Caraboo steps aside. The climbing team is just cresting the last cliff.
18. Seven Strands of Fate, after the fight
66 linesIt's over, you sorry loser.
Caraboo steps past Helot, who kneels on the ground, and delicately plucks the eyeball from the ritual formation.
Your wish, too, will become fertilizer to nourish the snowy mountain.
The eyeball flares with malice, its crimson pupil widening with a bloody light.
No, how could this be...!
The Eye of Balor, the demon eye of an evil god. Capable of destroying all in its sight, yet also its one and only weakness.
Did your master not tell you? This eye can only be worthy of the name "Eye of Balor" when it is soaked in your blood.
He said...
Shh, let me guess.
Did your master say something like this: "My dear, you've worked so hard, this is your reward for everything you've given."
"All you need to do is climb the snowy peak yourself, drive off the competition, and reclaim your crown?"
What a shame! YOU'VE, BEEN, LIED, TO!!
A pawn is always just a pawn. And when the time comes, it becomes a piece to be sacrificed.
When every last drop of value you can offer has been wrung out, when you grow discontent... that is when you hand over your head.
As one of the seven offerings upon the altar, do you have any last words you'd like to share?
I shouldn't have... shouldn't have trusted anyone...
From the very beginning, trusting in that lady's favor... and then... yearning for revenge on behalf of my kin...
And now, driven by someone's promises...
Alright, alright, the time I gave you for last words was merely a courtesy. No one truly cares about your pitiful, loser life.
If you can't win something on your own, then steal it, cheat for it, take it by force! What good does it do to just wait for others to hand things to you?
There's no time left for that now. Save the rest of your reflection for your next life.
Caraboo raises a hand to give a light toss, and the eyeball sinks into Helot's body.
Then comes the wet crunching sounds. Something is feeding.
There you go. Eat.
Helot's body collapses fast, leaving behind a blood-red mire.
That's right, just like that! They'll devour you until nothing remains, not even your bones...
On Caraboo's face, you glimpse something like cruel delight.
Look, your miserable fate stems entirely from your own foolishness, from your willingness to believe in lies.
Caraboo...
Hmm? What is it?
She turns back and studies your expression.
She puts on her usual playful, wheedling act, but in the arrogance at the corner of her eye you still read a hidden resentment.
May I take a look at those ritual artifacts?
Of course!
Caraboo steps aside, yielding the position directly facing the altar to you. Seven ritual artifacts, looking starkly different from their legendary descriptions, lay fully revealed before your eyes.
The Thread of Moirae, a gift from Arachne.
The Mirror of Yata, recovered from the frozen lakeside where Tinct lingered.
The Feather of Ma'at, drifted down from the wind after Castor departed.
The Eye of Balor, crystallized within the pool of Helot's blood.
The Golden Apple, which Caraboo pulled out of some hidden bundle.
The Key of Solomon, the very Silver Key you carry on your person.
And finally, the one recovered by the previous expedition, the Crown of Ariadne...
You stare in stunned silence.
The Crown of Ariadne... That's no Crown of Ariadne, that's Tulu's crown!
What's there to be so shocked about? The Golden Apple isn't even golden, is it?
But why would Tulu's crown be here?
Because this is Its ritual artifact, Its offering, Its most beloved ingredient.
As Caraboo's words land, the earth shudders.
What's happening?
It's laughing!
...Laughing?
The mountaintop shakes again and again, as if some young girl were laughing at something funny, her whole body shaking with it.
Because of humanity's weakness in facing reality, they chose to believe in lies, entrusting their wishes to the gods.
They never considered that the so-called gods could lie too. Because gods have wishes of their own to fulfill.
And a god's wish is to eat them.
The crown, the silken thread, the Silver Key, the forbidden fruit, the feathered wing, the bright mirror, the demon eye. Seven ritual artifacts, offerings made from the lives of these greedy people.
Everything you are is nothing more than a meal for It.
Now that It has gotten what It wanted, of course It's laughing!
Snow shakes loose and falls.
That jagged peak is no mountain. It is a colossal worm coiled atop the summit, like a great serpent that could swallow the heavens and devour the earth.
Things have come to this point. Shouldn't you tell us the truth now?
You didn't simply stumble onto this journey the way you pretended.
If anything, you have guided the entire climbing team to this point.
Our chance encounter with Castor in that cave at the start, Tinct's choice to head to that the frozen lake...
And this Helot who has been following us all along... you had already foreseen everything.
How much did you know? Just who are you?
19. Guests at the Feast, before the fight
33 linesJust who are you?
Caraboo laughs softly.
Who am I?
Didn't I tell you from the very beginning? I am the Lady of the Snowy Mountains, the Fairy Godmother, the very will of this peak.
And, of course, I am your beloved, adorable guide, Caraboo... the one who is about to feed you all to It.
Caraboo... you deceived us.
You deceived Evelyn, who looked after you so carefully along the way, and you deceived %player%, who stood up for you when Naraka wanted to cast you out.
Is this really the outcome you were seeking?
Deceive? So what if I did? Who isn't deceiving someone?
You can tell, right, %player%? I know you can smell lies like I do.
Fortunately, I managed to stay hidden and shake off their pursuit.
No...! I'm not tired! I'M NOT LEAVING!
My other duties in this world have come to a temporary end.
Tinct wasn't going to make it through that night, but she chose to hide her condition. Doesn't that make her a liar?
Castor never told us that he had wings. Doesn't that make him a liar, too?
William clearly wanted something else. Something personal. But he didn't want to tell us. He's also a liar, is he not?
Everyone here is hiding something. We're all liars. So why single me out?
But Tinct just wanted to keep going a little further. As for Castor's wings and William's secret wish... that's their privacy.
They didn't tell the whole truth, but they never intended to hurt anyone.
You still don't get it, huh?
Caraboo lets out an affected sigh and picks up the red apple she took two bites from.
Every person who has ever lived, the things they crave, be it power or a wish, are just like this apple...
Everyone wants it, everyone desperately chases after it...
Caraboo casually tosses the apple far away, makes a show of chasing after it, then dramatically flops into a snowdrift with a thud.
But...
In the end, only a chosen few ever get to taste it. Always.
And I, I will be its eternal, one and only master.
But you are building your dream on a mountain of lies.
Yeah. Lies. Aren't lies good enough?
What drew you here was not something grand or magnificent like fate or a god-king. It was merely a lie, just one lie!
You offer tributes to the mountain, and the mountain answers your wishes as it pleases. This is no different from the actual gods they all worship.
Only this time, what the mountain demands of you is... your everything.
And I won't let you...!
20. Guests at the Feast, after the fight
82 linesOh, playtime is over, little ones. Now, the mountain demands its meal.
Caraboo turns around, facing the endless mountain range, facing the vast and howling blizzard.
O Great White Worm, the one and only true Fairy of the Mountain! I have brought your offerings!
She is ecstatic. She laughs wildly. She revels in the triumph of her deception.
Ah, you greedy, foolish mortals.
Entrust your wishes to the mountain, entrust your desires to the mountain.
The mountain will hear you, and then "answer" you!
In an instant, the mountain surges violently from its very foundations, the white snow cascades and crumbles away, and a segmented body churns and coils, rising section by section like a collapsing glacier.
The entire "mountain" rears upright with a thunderous roar, looming overhead, its every crawling inch grinding the snowfield beneath into dust.
The mountain's peak splits open from its center, tearing wider and wider, becoming a gaping maw that cleaves the heavens from the earth; crimson saliva surges and pours down along row upon row of fangs, crashing down like rain.
The great maw snaps shut...
Before the crowd can even let out a single cry, they have already been swallowed into its bottomless belly.
...
After a long while, the earth finally ceases its trembling.
A small pointed hat pops up from beneath the drifting snow.
Caraboo shakes the snow from her body and surveys her handiwork with satisfaction...
Why? Why are you still here?
She is greeted by the sight of another person. A person who should not be there.
Yes, I am still here. I wonder why.
You said that visitors offer their wishes to the mountain, and the mountain answers the prayers of those who seek it.
Perhaps it's because I have no great wish to offer. Because I'm too ordinary, too unremarkable, and not a satisfying enough meal?
No, that can't be it. Is there really nothing you wish to entrust to the mountain?
Didn't you come here, like the others, seeking a miracle enough to bring the dead back to life?
Caraboo's eyes widen. Her question carries a trace of disbelief and indignation.
No. The only wish I had in coming here has already been fulfilled.
At the base of the final cliff, I found his remains. I was lucky: they had caught in a crevice, untouched by the snow.
His body had decayed, but his identification tag remained. I could still recognize him. I could still confirm that he had existed.
Across a snowfield with countless branching paths, an accident like that is already a miracle beyond anything one could hope for.
And you're already content with just that? No way! That's impossible!
I am. The wishes of mortals were never meant to be things that require divine power to fulfill.
And that wasn't the only good news for me. Judging by the equipment on his body, they met with misfortune on their way down.
So, before he died, he had already fulfilled his wish of reaching the highest summit.
Though some time may separate us, here, we will both meet our ends fulfilled, together, at last.
No. You're lying to yourself... That isn't true. You can't possibly be content with this...
Her voice grows increasingly shrill as tears well at the corners of her eyes.
Bring him back! You can still make a wish to bring him back to life!
She shakes her head.
There's no need.
You know, I'm an archaeologist by trade. This mountain existed long before humankind ever did.
Since the dawn of civilization, we have looked to the stars, explored the seas, and climbed mountains. Countless pioneers now lie buried among these endless peaks.
Everyone understands, before setting out, that they may not return with what they sought, or even return alive.
We know why we set out. The moment we embark on the journey, the wish that matters most is already more than half fulfilled.
To be laid to rest here alongside him, and alongside all those who came before us, is enough for me.
But you... That wish you spoke of, the one about making the whole world worship the mountain goddess, it was a lie, wasn't it?
Do you even know what your true wish is?
She lowers her head and remains silent for a long while. Only her quiet sobs are carried away by the distant wind, scattering into the boundless mountains.
Evelyn simply watches her with compassionate eyes.
The snow keeps falling.
After a long while, Evelyn steps forward and brushes the fallen snow from Caraboo's shoulders.
Think it over carefully. I'm going to join my husband now.
With those words, she hums softly to herself and walks step by step toward the edge of the cliff.
Without a fixed safety rope, she has no fear of falling. The crevasse at the base of the rock face is her destination.
Don't go, Evelyn, don't go,
It is not Evelyn who refused her.
Nor is it someone other than Evelyn who called out to stop her.
Why...
Why is the mountain... shaking?...
...
Something most terrifying dwells within the mountain.
It stretches for a thousand miles, coiling over the land it claims. It feasts upon the hearts of men and devours their delusions.
Now, It has come to claim Its prey.
<Change>Wishes... wishes... burning wishes...
No! I lured them all here for you! You promised you wouldn't eat me!
<Change>Who would honor... the promise... of a liar...
The worm upon the apple raises its voice and breaks into a shrill laugh.
Besides, didn't you know from the very beginning that one of the offerings was "the Golden Apple"?
No, I am the mountain goddess, and the Golden Apple is my sacred artifact. I cannot be an offering!
Have you forgotten who you are? Allow me to remind you, Caraboo. You are no one.
You are no goddess, no princess, and no fairy. You are nothing but a wretch born from the ruins of a battlefield, a wanderer who has forgotten even the faces of her own parents.
You should have known long ago... those identities you fabricated for yourself, those honors you gained through deceit... one day they would all come crashing back down on you, hard, and doubled.
Today, that day has come.
The mountain opens its gaping maw.
<Change>Enter... my belly... and become... my power...
...
The gentle slope gives way to a steep drop, and Evelyn, now only yards from the crevasse, sheds her heavy gear.
She tears off the oxygen tank's clasp, strips away her heavy crampons, then without a moment's hesitation cuts the only main rope on her body.
Nothing could hold her back anymore.
She simply moves lightly, almost joyfully, lunging toward her beloved who slumbers within the ice crevasse.
My dear, I've come for you.
Amid a new wave of tremors, Evelyn gently embraces the bones of her beloved.
As she falls, the snowy mountain opens its vast maw...
swallowing that tiny girl into its belly in one gulp.
21. Another Spring, before the fight
117 linesDarkness. Endless darkness.
Owww... Where am I?
She doesn't need to ask, she already knows. She is inside the worm's belly.
Damn it! I lured all those people here, only to get eaten myself.
Wait, what's this? A thread...?
A gleaming, lustrous thread reaches out from the distant darkness, hovering right before Caraboo.
Whatever, whatever! You'd better not be playing tricks on me!
You awaken from your daze only to find yourself in a soft, damp, and suffocating void.
This place... where am I?
Judging by Caraboo's last words, we are currently inside the belly of the mountain.
Our most pressing concern right now is finding a way out.
Never been here myself. I'm afraid I'm of no use to you as a guide now.
Don't worry. We've survived far worse than this.
%player%, what's that in your hand?
Oh, this is... Arachne's thread...
Without you even realizing it, the thread has wound itself gently around your pinky finger.
Once still and lifeless, it now shimmers with an enchanting, fluid light, its end unraveling into the deep, yawning dark.
Is this fate guiding us? Let's follow it and see where it leads.
Caraboo follows the guiding thread, pressing forward through what feels like an eternity in the dark. Finally, a speck of light flickers at the end of the line.
Light...?
In an instant, the lights shift, and the world transforms around her.
(Where am I...?)
(It looks like the farm... Aunt Rosa's farm, where I lived for a couple weeks?)
Hey, Caraboo, slow down!
She waited from dawn till dusk, but the rabbit never came back out.
Auntie, I saw it with my own eyes! The rabbit went right into this hole!
Aunt Rosa gently stroked Caraboo's hair.
Silly child, rabbits are far cleverer than that.
The burrows under these fields are like a great, tangled web of tunnels. They all connect.
That little white rabbit you were chasing has already slipped away through another exit, far from here.
Then what do we do?
Nothing at all, my little Caraboo.
We sow our seeds in the soil, we water them, we wait for the harvest, and we enjoy the simple gifts our God provide.
But what if I want that rabbit?
You don't need it, sweetheart. If we want meat, we can go to the market and trade our fruits and vegetables.
But what if I still want it?
Why... Why can't I have that rabbit?
...
...
Why am I seeing these childhood memories now...?
Get a grip, Caraboo. You've just been wandering in the dark for too long. You're hallucinating.
This is no hallucination.
Whoa! A ghost?!
Do you remember the Thread of Moirae, one of the seven sacred offerings? What you are looking at is the trajectory of fate.
And next, the path of fate will show you another possibility... and the exact moment your paths diverged.
What does any of that have to do with me being trapped inside a monster's stomach right now?
Because this is your wish. Once a wish takes root within you, the worm devours you and brings you into contact with the Thread of the Moirae. There, you will witness all that you have seen, and all that you are yet to see.
And through this, the fate that awaits you in the present will be altered.
A wish is the guiding thread that leads every soul toward its destined end.
Quit the riddles! Could you use some of that breath to tell me how to get out of here instead?! HEY,
The shadow vanishes without a sound.
Tch, stingypants! Fine, nothing I can do about it anyway. There's only one path to take inside a worm's gut. Might as well keep moving forward.
...
...
The light and shadows shift once more. Before her lies the plantation again.
Time here seems as though it will never pass. Yet the ivy creeping up the distant cabin has climbed a little higher, betraying the passage of days.
Auntie! Don't worry, I'm coming to help!
(Is that... me?)
(She looks about the same age as I am now... But ever since I made my pact with the Worm, I've never returned.
(Another possibility of fate... Is this what would have happened if I'd stayed in the countryside? I don't understand. I should watch and see what happens next.)
Good child. Auntie only came to see how you were doing.
Auntie, your legs aren't what they used to be. You shouldn't keep coming all the way out to the fields. I'll finish picking this basil, then we can head home and feed the rabbits together.
Did you go see yet? Ol' Fat Lettuce dropped a whole big litter last night! Black, white, grey, sandy, spotty, every color under the sun!
Our Caraboo has truly grown up. I'm so proud of you.
Auntie, what are you talking about? I've been handling this farmwork all on my own since I was thirteen.
Taking you away from your parents to live with me was the best decision I ever made.
That night you told me your father had beaten you in a drunken rage, I stayed up till dawn, pacing the floor... then I took the very first train out.
I nearly had to fight him to get you out of that house.
It's been almost ten years since then, hasn't it?
Now, with these bad legs of mine, I don't know how I'd manage out here alone without you...
Ah... ahh...
This is... that night, that night when I... It's another possibility of what could have been... If I didn't, if I didn't make that choice...
So this is what she meant by a turning point in fate... a different path...
That night, the night she encountered the Worm of the Mountain. The night she chose to wrench herself free from fate with her own hands.
The night of the real world. The night she actually lived through.
Get up, child. Stop crying. If you don't go home soon, your feet will freeze solid.
Don't wait any longer. Aunt Rosa isn't coming for you. When she said she'd go back and find a way, it was just polite talk, a lie.
You are entirely on your own.
But I will give you two gifts. They are the "blade" and the "honey."
The blade in your hand grants you the power to seize your freedom. The honey on your lips is your tool to survive alone.
Covered in bruises, her face flushed red from crying, the young girl dazedly takes the knife and begins her walk back home.
And then...
To the crackle of the fireplace, she stood over her drunken father's bed, hesitating for a long, agonizing time.
Go on. Do what you've always wanted to do.
She raised the knife...
Yes. Just like that.
Kill him, and everyone can finally be happy.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, she lowered it.
I'm sorry. I still can't do it.
I'll leave. As long as I run far enough away from here, I won't have to suffer this pain anymore.
Useless little coward.
No matter. I see something else in you entirely.
Let's go. With a silver tongue like yours, we can still lay our hands on the most precious treasures.
At dawn the next morning, I hid myself in the straw of a hay cart and slipped into the nearest town.
Then, with forged papers and a stolen name, I boarded a train heading east.
From that day on, I wore many different identities, the conductor's niece, the guard's friend, the Fairy Godmother, the mountain goddess...
I shed every piece of my past, leaving it to freeze in the snow on the night I fled.
It was only much, much later that I learned the truth, from a fellow countryman I crossed paths with on the battlefield...
Mr. Hans?
One freezing day, he drank himself into a stupor.
The fire in the hearth went out, doused by meltwater dripping through the ceiling. Normally, his little daughter would have relit it for him.
But that day, for some reason, the little girl wasn't home.
He froze to death in the cold that night.
No one ever saw that little girl again.
Lady Fairy, why the sudden question? Can I have my blessing now?
Caraboo scoops up a generous handful of colorful candies and drops them into the hands of the young soldier in front of her.
By the grace of the Fairy above, take one of these blessed sweets every day, and your leg will heal in no time.
Even though she knows damn well that no amount of candy will ever grow back a soldier's severed legs.
...
...
How absurd. Truly, utterly absurd. It turns out that on that fateful night, all I had to do was nothing at all... and I could have had the very happiness I starved for.
A peaceful life. A loving guardian. All of it.
Even that little white rabbit.
The wild rabbit in the field turns its head, its round, glassy eyes locking onto hers.
Then, it darts away, kicking up a spray of dirt, and vanishes down into the dark of its burrow.
22. Pact of Liars, before the fight
19 linesAt the end of the silken thread, a girl steps out of the shadows.
Well, well, little trickster. Caught yourself in your own trap?
Naraka's words only sharpen the temper of a girl who was already hanging her head in frustration.
Easy for you to say.
Caraboo looks up, her eyes blazing with fury, fixed unwaveringly on Naraka.
Drop the act. A Sherpa guide, swallowed up by a whole mountain, and you still have the nerve to crack jokes?
I knew the moment I laid eyes on you. You're a liar too.
Caraboo throws herself at him. This time she doesn't let Naraka dodge.
You're the one who burned my pack, aren't you? Let's see that mask come off...
She clamps both hands on Naraka's cheeks and hauls them apart.
WAIT!
Riiip...
The shell known as "Naraka" is torn clean in two, like a rubber doll in the hands of a mischievous child.
Out of the split seeps black smoke, the thing called "Chaos."
The smoke churns, coils, condenses...
then, with a playful flourish, it offers you a single rose.
You reach out to accept it. The figure within the mist gracefully takes your hand instead, then presses a soft kiss to the back of it.
We meet again, old friend.
Before we catch up, shall we have a little warm-up to soothe our furious little trickster?
23. Pact of Liars, after the fight
153 lines...
So, dear sir, what whim on earth possessed you to roleplay as a Sherpa mountain guide? Surely it can't be a passion for human extreme sports?
Would you believe me if I said I was speaking up for the Sherpas?
Sure, I believe that. I also believe Lady Sorel favors a hands-off approach, that Ryker has quit gambling for good, and that Erica is excellent at cracking jokes...
Now is not the time for bickering.
Arachne led us here for a reason. And you... You must be a link in the chain of fate.
N, you know the way out.
To know, or not to know... oh my, now that is a fascinating question.
Stop being coy. Just say it.
Alright, alright, I know. But I can't tell you.
You respond with a glare.
Chill, chill. I'll start explaining right now.
To discuss how to leave this place, we first need to understand where we are and why we're here.
We are inside the Worm of the Mountain's belly. The worm used the wish ritual to lure you all here, because...
Because it wanted to eat your power. All of you.
Exactly.
Caraboo's arrangement with the Worm worked like this: she would select offerings with strong desires and spiritual power, then lure them into the mountains.
A profound longing for someone, a desperate urge to reunite with the dead... as a rule, those harboring wishes like these yield the most power.
As they climb, the Worm devours the pilgrims, distilling their remaining strength into the sacred offerings.
So, the so-called seven artifacts...
They are all made from the climbers... or rather, the crystallized souls of those who died harboring bitter, unresolved regrets.
Which raises the question, why did the Worm of the Mountain actively break this arrangement?
Because it knew I was wavering.
Caraboo brings up their last conversation on the ridge.
I used to believe that no one could resist greed, and that fulfilling wishes required relying on "inhuman things." But she made me understand that contentment with an ordinary life can bring happiness all the same.
In that moment, an unnecessary "wish" took shape in me.
A "wish" is bait. It is a fuse.
From the very beginning, I was the "Golden Apple" destined to be devoured.
How are we supposed to know you're not lying to us yet again?
Believe what you want. Right now, I hate the Worm of the Mountain more than any of you ever could.
If that damn Worm hadn't tricked me into making that contract back on that snowy night... I never would've ended up on this crooked path to begin with.
Do you have any idea how hard I've had it all these years? Wandering homeless through war zones... begging for cold leftovers just to keep from starving...
Wretched, lying parasite...
In the brief silence, the only sound is the nauseating rise and fall of the walls of flesh breathing.
Understood. As long as you don't step out of line, we will set aside your past offenses... for now.
What's more pressing now is finding a way out of this deity's stomach... preferably without relying on the power of a certain Mr. N.
Oh my, are you really going to waste the goodwill of the kind and generous Mr. N like that?
Or do you truly think that walking out of His belly is as simple as checking out of a hotel room you weren't satisfied with?
You said you couldn't tell us.
You think I'm deliberately hiding things from you? Now that really does me a disservice.
N toys with the rose that has appeared between his fingers and turns his eyes to Caraboo, taking his time.
Whatever means I may have, I cannot let you know about them. Isn't that right, little liar?
Caraboo doesn't argue. She just bites down hard on her lower lip and avoids everyone's eyes.
Caraboo?
...It can hear me.
And I mean it literally. When I was six, the night I left with It, I put my soul up as collateral.
It lent me the power of "lies" so I can deceive everyone in the world, and as the price...
I cannot hide a single thought from It.
...So, at this moment, every word we speak...
Everything I hear, It's gonna know.
The flesh on every side snaps tight for an instant, then slowly slackens. As if something enormous were listening in from behind a curtain, thoroughly entertained.
Now do you understand?
There has always been a way. But if it so much as reaches this young lady's ears, you might as well be playing Texas Hold'em with your trump cards face up.
When we discuss the plan, should we have Caraboo step aside for a moment?
Even if I don't hear your plan, I may still detect something unusual during its execution.
You can't let me see your microexpressions, your small movements. Otherwise I'll know which words are lies.
Perhaps, you could simply not look?
No, lies are a kind of flowing atmosphere... and I have been immersed in it for far too long.
Sometimes, even when no one speaks, I can sense the presence of lies in the air.
Let me try.
At the crisp snap of his fingers, black smoke climbs over Caraboo's eyelids.
There. Open your eyes.
Caraboo opens her eyes. Everything in front of her is veiled in twisting smoke, and even sound comes through muffled and far away.
William suddenly lowers his eyes, a knuckle pressed against his chin, as if calculating a game of chess on a board no one else can see.
Stop.
Hm?
There's no need to cover her eyes.
On the contrary. From here on out, Caraboo, I want you on your absolute guard, parsing the truth of every single word I say.
Listen carefully, Caraboo, or rather, the Worm of the Mountain behind Caraboo. I wish to make a deal with you.
The walls of flesh shudder with something like a mocking laugh.
Laughable. You are within my belly. What could you possibly offer me in a deal?
A wish.
The surroundings fall silent.
The wish formation at the peak was not created by you. It was made by something older than you, from outside, wasn't it?
...
The Worm of the Mountain is silent for a moment, then lets out a noncommittal chuckle.
Interesting. Continue.
Before this ascent, the legend Caraboo recounted differs somewhat from the one circulating among the mountain folk. Simply put, they only know that reaching the summit can grant a wish, nothing of the seven ritual artifacts.
That makes sense. If the only purpose were to lure humans up the mountain and then devour them, there would be no need to weave a legend about seven ritual artifacts.
One need only tell everyone that reaching the summit will grant their wish.
The greater the difficulty, the fewer the challengers, you couldn't possibly fail to grasp such a basic principle, unless...
<Change>Unless...
The Worm of the Mountain draws out the syllables in a sarcastic, mocking tone.
Unless the seven artifacts are real, and the wish-granting ritual is real as well.
And you lurk beside the formation not merely to devour climbers. You are also waiting for a chance to activate the ritual.
The rhythmic breathing of the fleshy walls around you suddenly hitches.
If you have been guarding the ritual all this time, why not activate it yourself?
Human, you ask too many questions.
Looks like I asked the right one.
Let me guess.
There's a core within the magic circle that you cannot crack, isn't there? So all these years, you've stockpiled sacrifice after sacrifice, yet you still can't undo the final lock.
The walls of flesh constrict, nearly crushing everyone within.
I know why you can't crack it. I just caught a glimpse of the magic circle from afar. The runes carved upon it contain Latin and other ancient scripts.
And your little... "Emissary" here, judging by when she left her home, she clearly never received proper education...
Yeah, sorry I can't read! So what?!
Time was short, I hadn't finished reading it before you swallowed me in here. But I'd wager what's recorded on it is mostly knowledge related to activating the magic circle.
The goddess of fate guided us here, and all seven sacred artifacts have been gathered. You should know this is the closest you've ever been to having your wish granted.
And we are willing to voluntarily relinquish our chance to make a wish upon the mountain.
The Worm of the Mountain falls into a long silence. Just when you think it will never respond, it lets out a soft hum.
Giving up a wish... what a remarkable sacrifice. Surely you want more than just for me to let you go?
Once the ritual is complete, all the other artifacts can be yours. But we will be taking the Crown of Ariadne.
The Crown of Ariadne...
Theseus used Ariadne's thread to find his way out of the labyrinth, yet their love was never blessed by the goddess of fate...
In the end, the god of wine, Dionysus, bestowed upon Ariadne a magnificent crown set with seven gleaming jewels.
William glances at Caraboo.
Though they had journeyed together and overcome hardships side by side, perhaps Theseus and Ariadne were never truly meant to walk the same path.
Caraboo avoids William's eyes.
An empty shell that has already fulfilled its purpose, exchanged for a wish powerful enough to rewrite fate, don't you think that's a bad deal?
The purpose of our climb was always to use this crown to find its owner.
You can read Caraboo's consciousness directly, and she can tell whether we're lying.
So you are confirming what I'm saying is true, right?
My trump card is showing my trump card.
...
Haha, hahahaha! Exactly right! You can even exploit this mechanism in reverse. Doing business with smart people is so much simpler.
Prepare to regain your freedom!
Countdown: three, two, one,
Zero.
Walls of flesh close in on you from all sides at once. Mucus seeping from their folds transforms into countless slender tendrils, coiling around your wrists, ankles, and waist.
Wait, isn't this a little different from the "regaining freedom" we agreed on...
I only promised to get you out. Did I ever say the journey would be comfortable?
An irresistible force surges up from beneath your feet.
You are thrust upward like foreign objects being expelled from a throat, shooting rapidly through a narrow, slick passage of flesh and blood.
Darkness swallows your vision. All that remains is the wet, sticky sound of flesh grinding against flesh, and the deep, drawn-out heartbeat of the entire mountain.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud,
As the final heartbeat fades, a blinding white light splits open ahead.
A howling wind laden with ice and snow rushes into your face.
That force hurls you violently outward, and you crash heavily into knee-deep snow.
Ugh... that thing was definitely taking revenge.
By the worm's standards of hospitality, that's already quite generous.
You push yourself up from the snow. The lingering metallic taste of blood deep in your lungs is finally swept away by the biting cold wind.
This is no longer the mountain ridge you arrived at.
As far as the eye can see, all the lower peaks are submerged beneath a sea of clouds. The pitch-black sky looms so close it seems within reach, while the stars flicker in and out behind the curtain of snow whipped up by the howling wind.
You are standing atop the highest peak of the entire mountain range.
This place...
The true summit.
A voice rises from beneath the snow.
The ice layer trembles faintly in response, as though this snow-capped peak is nothing more than a fragment of bone jutting out from some colossal creature.
The ritual site lies just ahead. Place the seven artifacts back in their proper positions, and the formation will tell you what to do next.
You're not coming with us?
<Change>I am everywhere.
A low, rumbling laugh rises from beneath your feet.
This entire mountain is my vessel. With every step you take, you walk upon my flesh and blood.
So don't even think about pulling any pathetic tricks.
Move forward. Let me see what manner of wish you can grant me, you who call yourselves blessed by the Goddess of Fate.
The snow parts slowly before you.
An ancient stone stairway, buried under wind and snow for untold years, reveals itself, winding upward toward the summit.
And at the top of the stairway, seven dim golden lights kindle one by one, like eyes that have slumbered for a thousand years, at last beholding the one who has come to awaken them.
William is the first to step onto the stone stairway.
His hand stays pressed against the inside of his coat, as though soothing a wish already relinquished.
At that moment, no one notices that the Silver Key he has kept silent for so many years is emitting an almost imperceptible tremor through the fabric of his coat.
As if something is waiting for it at the mountain's peak.
24. Summit of Voided Wills, before the fight
116 linesBefore you sits a massive altar, looking as though it has existed as long as the entire mountain range itself.
Circular stone steps rise tier upon tier, and at their top stand seven empty pedestals arranged in a circle. Between them, in ancient grooves, clings the dried remnant of a dark golden light.
This is the final destination where the Worm of the Mountain has lured countless climbers, using wishes as bait.
No one has ever left this place alive. All the past climbers... they're all here. Under our feet. Inside the mountain's belly.
Enough talk. Tell me how this magic circle works.
The Worm of the Mountain's voice rises from beneath their feet. This time, its tone carries not only mockery, but also an urgency suppressed across long ages.
All eyes turn toward the altar, drawn to the densely packed, mysterious script covering its surface.
Wait... these markings...
William slowly crouches down, his fingertips brushing the intricate carvings between the pedestals, ones you had taken for mere decoration.
Impossible... how could this be here... These marks beside the altar's engravings... I recognize them.
This is Fingal's handiwork.
Fingal?
You know that name. William's partner, the Investigator who vanished from that world before he did.
I see now... the Key of Solomon... why the Worm could not initiate the ritual... and why Fingal ended up in this world...
Hahaha... I see! I see now! This is hilarious!
So this is what that workaholic weaver intended to show me. Taking you all the way up here was well worth my time!
What do you mean?
N simply shrugs.
Why, I'm not your translator. See this Mr. William right here? Ask him. You did let me out of your belly, but do I look like someone who intends to return the "favor"?
I'll do the explaining.
The "Key of Solomon" is not actually a physical key, but a grimoire.
It contains the methods for summoning the seventy-two demons of Solomon. In other words, a way to connect different worlds.
He raises his head and looks toward the very center of the seven pedestals, at a narrow keyhole nearly swallowed by the shadows.
These markings are a cipher that only he and I can read.
William kneels down at the magic circle, his hand carefully tracing the carvings on the ground. Slowly, the silent words begin to piece together in his mind, forming a familiar voice.
Is that William? I knew you'd make it this far. The magic circle here contains three different ancient scripts. I'd wager that among our circle, only you, the diligent student, could read through it all in one go. They are spells of summoning and sealing. You should understand what that means.
It controls the opening and closing of a certain "Gate."
In short, this magic circle uses the "Crown" as a medium, linking to the origin of this world. Therefore, within this world alone, it can indeed grant any wish. Have you ever wondered why you were thrown into this unfamiliar world? Now, I can give you the answer. You are my wish.
Regrettably, the power I offered was not enough. I could only pry open a crack for your Silver Core to pass through. The destination I could not reach... I need you to reach it in my stead. After all, you are William, now already a legendary Investigator. Right?
I hope you still have my Silver Key. Use it to activate the magic circle, then make your wish, and It will guide you to the promised land. The road ahead, that, I leave to you. Sincerely yours, Fingal
William's fingers freeze.
He does not say a word. You've never seen that look on his face.
%player%.
Yes.
Didn't you ask me once why I was the first to wake from the Wendigo's call?
Because I am the only one who had seen the body. I saw what remained of Fingal... the one I...
His body was rotted through, past all identifying. But I knew the broken Silver Key on him. It was not supposed to be there.
I-1021, Fingal's serial number. Every time a number is erased from our records, we know the world has forgotten another of our Investigators.
From that day on, I have kept this Silver Key close to my heart.
He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, those familiar eyes burn with an absolute, unshakable resolve.
...Fingal, thank you for your trust.
Worm of the Mountain, I will tell you how to activate the ritual.
Those who offer their wishes to the mountain yield their very souls to fuel the magic circle. Through them, a bridge is built to the world's Origin.
The world's Origin?
If my hypothesis is correct, it is the "Black Sun" hanging in the sky.
The Black Sun exists much like Mythag's "Black Pool", all-encompassing, a suspension of the ruins of everything past and future, drowning in a corrosive tide.
The scale of the wish granted depends entirely on how much of that tide the wisher dares to draw from the Black Sun.
Little girl, keep your eyes locked on him. Make sure he isn't spinning lies.
Reluctantly, Caraboo steps forward and stares deep into William's eyes.
!!
William closes his eyes and gives a gentle shake of his head.
Every word he just spoke is true.
Don't lie to me! You hesitated just now, you little fraud!
Am I lying? You should know better than I do.
The Worm unleashes a cold, mocking laugh, sending a cascade of snow rumbling down the cliffs.
Hmph. The ritual is all that matters. Once this is finished, I will deal with you myself, traitor.
Tell me then, Worm of the Mountain, what is the scale of the wish you desire?
Hehehe... do you even need to ask? The grander, the better! I want to swallow the entire world into my belly, an endless, inexhaustible feast!
What a greedy, foolish creature. Perhaps you should have learned the beauty of restraint.
How could a parasite of Chaos like you understand? If I had played by the rules, I never would have scaled these heights.
And by "heights," do you mean dragging your bloated, squirming body across a frozen peak?
Ugh... forget it. Barely anyone ever listens to N's kind advice anyway.
Understood.
William gives her a slow nod.
To demand a wish of the grandest scale, you must surrender every single offering.
Take them! Take them all! They exist for this very moment!
%player%, hand over the offerings.
You slowly open the case.
The Golden Apple, the Mirror of Yata, the Feather of Ma'at, the Eye of Balor, the Thread of Fate, the Crown of Ariadne... and the Silver Key itself.
Seven offerings each finds its place in the pedestals, and through the ancient grooves, a dark golden light flows and surges anew, connecting into one full ring.
Haha... Finally... FINALLY!
The Mountain shall have Its feast. The Mountain shall spend Its entire hoard.
The Mountain has starved for this for so, so long.
William grips the Silver Key he has always cherished. He slides it into the keyhole.
In the name of Fingal...
I initiate this ritual.
Click.
With a soft, sharp sound, all seven offerings erupt into blinding light.
The first ring of light rises above the altar. Then the second, and the third. The wishes slumbering within the seven artifacts hum in resonance, like seven rivers rushing toward a single, dark sea.
If the Mountain had hands, it would claw at the sky to grasp that brilliant ring, aching with desperate hunger.
This day has finally come!
It would tear the ring from the heavens and press it deep against Its chest, burying it into Its bloated flesh until every drop of its power was devoured.
You stare blankly into the churning sky. When the Mountain's wish is granted, what will become of your lives? Will your journey simply end in this frozen waste?
In that split second, you see the flash of William's monocular.
...
Immediately after, the fourth ring of light ignites.
The solid rock beneath your feet groans with a low, heavy rumble, a shudder that does not belong to stone, but to living flesh. Faint, sickly glimmers of light begin to bleed from the fracturing stacks of ice below.
...What is this?
Why... is my strength... bleeding away?
This is the price of the ritual you so desperately craved.
After paying the price, what will become of it?
The ritual drains all of the offerings' power. I imagine you will return to what you were before you ever touched them. Perhaps even weaker.
So... weak enough to be a tiny, miserable maggot squirming inside a rotten apple? One we could crush with a single pinch?
You tricked me! You wretched liar!
I promised you I would fully initiate the ritual, and you agreed to surrender all of the offerings.
Everything you have swallowed into your belly, the entire life force of this mountain, will be offered up to the altar, sacrificed to the god who carved this formation.
The fifth ring of light ignites.
The stone beneath you splits and peels away, exposing a raw, pale layer of convulsing flesh underneath.
Massive sheets of snow collapse with a deafening roar, and the sky is swallowed, piece by piece, by an unimaginable shadow.
Stop it! Turn it off! I will rot before the wish is even granted!
That was never part of our bargain.
Yeah, he only promised to start the ritual for you. He never promised you'd survive it.
I see... Every single word William said was the absolute truth... yet spliced together, they formed a perfect lie.
The sixth ring of light ignites.
The whole mountain shudders like something dying. Countless pale masses of flesh push up from under the splitting rock and surge for the altar like a wave.
No! Those are mine! My flesh! My power! My wish!
Or perhaps they were never yours to begin with. That power does not belong to you. Those are the stolen wishes of the countless pilgrims you lured and buried here.
That power belongs to everyone you have deceived, devoured, and discarded. You have no right to claim it...
...And now, they're simply returning to where they belong.
Tinct, Castor, Evelyn, and Fingal, whom you never got to meet in person...
Face after face, name after name rises to the surface of your mind, before sinking deep into the quiet dark of memory.
Don't you dare! DON'T YOU DARE!
Before my power is drained, I'll destroy the altar first, then grind every last one of you to pieces!
William nods to you.
Let's each do our part. I'll keep the ritual running.
Leave it to me. I'll stop the worm!
25. The Long Dream, before the fight
55 linesHave you made up your mind?
Deep within her hazy consciousness, a shadow gently calls out to Caraboo.
Yes. I've made my choice.
This is a lie. A betrayal.
They have all taken such good care of you, and they, too, have wishes they hoped to fulfill.
But you only get one wish.
Even so, will you still wish for "that"?
Caraboo hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath as if making her final, ultimate decision.
There is no wish more important than this one.
The shadow smiles.
I see. I'm with you.
Go, Caraboo. Go reclaim the self you cast aside.
The shadow gradually blurs and fades, bathed in light, slowly merging with her silhouette.
And then, what emerges is a smiling face, streaked with tears of bittersweet parting.
After all, "we" have always been the most selfish person ever.
The mountain has died.
It's over...
A horrifying wound splits open down the middle of the snowy mountain, running from the crown of the worm's head to the end of its abdomen.
The worm's body, along that wound, slowly, slowly collapses inward on both sides.
You fall straight down with the collapsing summit.
Watch out! It's collapsing!
In the noise of the wind as you fall, with no warning at all, you hear a murmur.
It's not over yet.
Caraboo reaches out her hand.
On her tear-streaked face, a carefree smile appears.
Then, in a fall none of you can control, the seven rings of light blaze to life.
What died... was only the snowy mountain... the ritual... is still running!
In that instant, the whole world seems to lose all sound.
You only see her lips move, shaping words that will not begin to ring out across the world for many seconds yet.
My wish is that there be no more lies in this world.
The moment her words leave her lips, the world before you crumbles.
Silver ash comes drifting down from far overhead, so light, so slow.
It is a quiet collapse, a gradual disintegration, the final curtain of an ancient, eternal dream.
From the rim of the Black Sun.
Mountains.
Snow.
Sky.
Earth.
Offerings.
Companions.
Everything that once was dissolves into nothing, the way a lie does once it is laid bare.
...Why?
Knowledge you were never meant to have drives into your mind like a spike, and distant memories come with it.
This ship is a dream, but when the curtain of lies is lifted...
The entire world is also someone's dream, but this dream is bigger, more illusory, and more distant...
Even the sun, moon, and stars are born from His fiction; only beings entangled with His spirit can...
The entire world is one enormous lie.
With that realization, the disintegration speeds up. A dense silver rain begins to fall.
The rain falls on water. The fragments that once made up this "world" turn into silver droplets, falling slowly toward a bottomless sea.
And you are there, within those waters.
Sinking, sinking.
Until the long dream ends, and you open your eyes again.
To face the truth of this world.
At the deepest, darkest bottom of the abyss.
The magnificent divine kingdom, long since perished, shows its true face at last.