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We're almost at our destination.

What? You'd never would've reached the Stultifera in one piece without me. The children of the sea would've ripped you apart, crushed you, or bound your limbs as they dragged you off to their nests.

You're not like Quintus.

What might could you be talking about? My skin? This sack of flesh?

None of that matters.

What are you trying to accomplish?

And what are YOU trying to accomplish, Hunter? Your kind already loathe your enemies while simultaneously doubting the purity of your own blood. But still... you pretend to be calm.

What are you trying to get out of me?

Silence. A wise choice. Ægir are not a sociable lot, it is known. But it seems there are exceptions.

Or, are you just a bit of an unpopular grump?

I can answer your question. Quintus wouldn't, nor will other humans. But the Seaborn will. Like Heralds, we come to understand things. We are not limited by the way humans think.

I don't need your riddles.

Hmm...

Before coming here, I was in the midst of translating a literary classic from Ursus. It was about race and nations. About history. I was putting it into Iberian and Victorian.

Take a look, Mister Hunter.

Ulpianus's gaze follows the woman's hand, his eyes subconsciously drawn towards the ocean.

A pitch-black sea. Dense with dark clouds. Oppressive. And yet, a vague outline of the starry sky is visible.

Even the Ægir rarely look out across the ocean from the water's surface. Different races, different countries. The land is fractured in every sense, and its conflicts are neverending.

But when you look over the boundless sea, do you see anything representing those divides?

Tch... These damn monsters!

Jordi! Are you alright?!

(Slithering sounds, rubbing against the wall)

G-Get away from me—!

Seems like activating this facility has made these poor creatures realize that this place doesn't make a very good nest.

High Inquisitor!

Keep ascending, Ægir. Your hands are for wielding tools, not fire and steel.

The plan is unchanged. Go with Irene and find what the Inquisition and the Hunters are seeking.

I, I know! Please be careful!

Do you really think we can find that ship?

It can only pass through Iberia.

I don't understand... If it is a place like Rhodes Island, why hasn't it tried to return in sixty years?

We too are lost, unable to find a way back home. Is that not so?

(Sounds of stirring, slapping the water)

The children are increasing in number.

...Are you alright?

Me? Why do you ask?

You didn't speak a single word on the way to Iberia.

Have you always seen me as a chatterbox, Skadi?

Skadi stares deeply into Specter's eyes.

When she'd finally found Laurentina on land, her eyes were clouded over.

Then she saw it in Sal Viento. A fragment of Laurentina as she was. But it was short-lived. After returning to Rhodes Island, she seemed to have fallen back into the abyss.

But now, Skadi begins to find herself unable to distinguish which corner of Specter's mind she is currently dealing with.

She has an ominous guess.

One that has always swirled through her mind.

What's the matter?

No need to overthink this, Skadi.

And the same goes for you, my sleepy little mermaid. We don't have much time. You will awaken.

Will I?

You will.

For the time being... Go with Shark and take out the small fry. Their numbers are endless, so remember to adjust your breathing and conserve energy.

You should already know that I prefer it that way.

...Must we be in such a hurry to perform again? The storm is not yet ready.

Heh, but it seems our dance partner won't be kept waiting.

Tch, there's no end to them.

Doña Irene!

You're still alive! So that flash of light was from the High Inquisitor's lantern after all!

Um, he wanted us to continue on... But what exactly should we do? Keep searching for the ship's location?

I was originally planning to wait for the technicians to arrive, but seeing how you got this big fella started all by yourself—

Hiss... Hiss...

—Make every second count!

Thiago? So you're finally seeing clearly.

Why haven't you fled? The Penal Battalion and that Inquisitor have been lying in ambush in town.

Then why haven't your proud townspeople returned?

The Inquisitors have already taken away all the confused, directionless residents of Gran Faro, and you already know what's going to happen to them.

You know all too well.

But I can't sit by and watch Gran Faro go up in smoke. I have to do whatever I can.

You? Fight the Inquisition? Fair enough, Thiago. But that will only hasten the town's demise. Iberia will never tolerate an act of treason.

While we welcome all into our fold, but the weak do not have that right. This 'determination' of yours is but a sick joke your mind is playing on you. You understand nothing. Who do you think you're talking to?

Who? If I'd cared enough to investigate, you would've been flushed out by the Penal Battalion long ago.

Tell me then, what can people like you offer Gran Faro?

In the end, this town is... a mere human settlement.

What we seek to offer up to this land is of a much higher calling than your meaningless baubles.

(A slithering sound emerges from cracks in the building)

You've been followed.

Hiss...

Hah, these Sea Terrors have pretty sharp senses.

An outsider? We will allow it. Your flesh and blood shall become nourishment for our wounded. We all give back to this land.

Tch, the nethersea brand has already reached this far. The walls, the stairs, it's all over the place!

Are you still not done yet? They're getting closer!

Almost there!

How does this make any sense? Even after all these years, the signal-receiving devices are still operable... But why? How?

Oh, the logs—

—Woah, there it is! Now let's take a look—

Hiss...

Ugh—

(Their numbers are exploding! They're moving through the nethersea brand, as if they've merged with the ground entirely!)

(At this rate, even Maestro and the Hunters won't be able to stay in this branded place for much longer...)

(Rough sounds of slithering across the floor)

Damn it— Underneath us! Jordi!

Wh-What?!

Continue.

Ah, um... Okay...

Abyssal Hunters!

You're too weak. Swarms like this require swifter movements. Spare yourself the energy to breathe.

Like so.

Urgh...!

How much longer, Ægir?

Th-There are no records in the logs of how to operate these information terminals, so I'll have to keep searching—

—There's some data here... I don't understand what it means, but it keeps popping up!

Keeps popping up? Even if that's from the Inquisition's last attempt, that should've been years ago!