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There was no end to them. They surrounded me. I ran out of strength before I could even swim far.

I tried so, so many times.

But you're still alive.

We are all well aware of the changes in our bodies, Skadi. You included.

Shark may have suffered some injury, but none of my Hunters are so fragile.

And she's the same as us.

'Specter.' Once a victim of the Church of the Deep. Originium, absent in the ocean, has affected her in a whole host of ways.

Why bring along such an uncertain element?

We are going home. It does not concern you.

Home? But circumstances in Ægir can hardly be better than in Iberia.

Raise your lantern, Inquisitor. Let's prepare to greet our first enemies.

Oh. They've come.

One final question.

Are there really only three Abyssal Hunters?

If there were others, I would have long since found them.

...What compels you to ask?

(Ominous slithering sounds)

Is this ship's course true?

Undoubtedly.

...Then the Sea Terrors are becoming more explicitly hostile as we approach the Eye of Iberia.

Perhaps it is already their nest. Fighting them aboard this ship would waste far too much time.

Skadi, Shark, defend this vessel. Keep an eye on the primitive signal navigation facilities while you're at it.

I will enter the sea.

I'll go with you.

You are stronger in the sea, but so are they. And we cannot bleed down there; the risk is too high.

Wh-What's wrong?! Are there monsters attacking again?

No, I can't see any! We don't know what's happening under the water, but—

That muffled booming! What's going on down there? Is she fighting below?

No.

She's just... moving. She's faster in the water.

...How can anyone move faster through water than air?

Habit, I guess. Or maybe it's a skill.

The Sea Terrors are following her. She's opened up a passage.

Irene, take Breogan's descendant and continue to steer.

Pick up speed before the enemy surrounds us.

They've left. The seas won't be peaceful.

If you worry for them, we'd best hurry and finish up our business.

Gran Faro is only an outpost to recapture the lighthouse. Retaking it is all that matters.

I'm surprised that Iberia can already exploit Ægir technology to resist the encroaching nethersea brand.

Regardless, the rate of its evolution is faster than any one scientist's genius. If we seek victory, we must use whatever we can.

Even an army, I see.

...This is an plain, unremarkable town.

Perhaps there are more strategic locations waiting for the Inquisition to recapture them, one by one. More favorable battlefields, grander walls and fortifications.

But, sometimes, it's fine to start with what's at hand.

However many Iberians are willing to fight to the death against the waves, that is how many soldiers we can field.

Let us begin the cleanup.

(Unabated slithering sounds)

Hey... Are we still not there yet?!

A-According to the nautical map, we should be able to at least see it by now...

High Inquisitor! We have to head deeper in, or else—

No.

Look up.

What? It's nothing but black overhead, I can't see—

No... that's not... that's not the sky...

They've made it their nest by now. Very close to the shore; no wonder their numbers are so great.

We can just cut them all down. Like before.

...Yes, like before.

Shark?

So that is... their eye? Why does it feel so familiar?

Mm.

It has been caked in filth for too long, unable to open its lid.

I'll clear a path. Jordi, come with us.

Ah. O-Okay... I hope I can be of help...

No. There's something only you can do.

If you can't, then we'll have to change strategies and prioritize ensuring that the Inquisition's technicians can make it here safely.

And in the battle to come, we'll have no time to care for the fate of a solipsistic Ægir.

Got it!

You seem nervous.

Ægir. You don't understand what finally reaching this island again signifies for us.

And what would that be?

...Ever since the Penal Battalion discovered remnant signals from the lighthouse, we've made seventeen attempts to make landfall, eight of which succeeded in setting foot on this reef.

Hundreds of soldiers, and three Inquisitors. No one returned alive.

Don't tell me your superior Ægir ethics teach you to respect your heroes, but forsake their memory?

The High Inquisitor and I... the Iberians will hold a memorial for those who died at sea.

I did not mean to pick at your morals. All I can say is that, in the face of the ocean, we are all alone and weak.

Do as you wish, but we are pressed for time.

A foot falls on the reef.

A colossus hides in the jet-black winds. Only by tilting one's head back and gazing far up can one distinguish it from the murky sky.

The Eye of Iberia.

A final pair of eyes, sealed shut.

So tall...

The scale of that statue in town has to be wrong...

High Inquisitor.

Mm.

This is what we once...

It is... my first time seeing it as well.

The two remain silent for a moment, dead in their tracks as they look over at this vast spectacle that's survived only in documents and records.

The enduring reality of Iberia goes far beyond what she was taught, Irene thinks. Despite the Abyssal Hunters' ample disdain for them, despite the balance of the nation well and truly crumbling.

Despite it all, this lighthouse is an emblem. Of past glory and wild ambition. Of dreams and the domination of the unknown.

Whatever feelings may roil in your heart at this moment, engrave them all.

This building, these worn swords and lanterns, these reefs, this ocean.

Carve into your heart just what humanity has built in its struggle. Keep it with you forever, at all times.

If we do not venerate our sacrifices, our scales are meaningless.

Yes, sir!

Enter carefully.

Got it!

What are you doing?

Have we come home?

No, not yet.

But if we find what Kal'tsit and the Captain are looking for here, maybe we can.