act17side

Mm... So answer me this, Doctor.

Us, the Ægir, Sea Terrors, the Seaborn—and all our pitiable kin lurking in the depths of the ocean—

—How are any of us different in your eyes?

You were born much later. There are many things you do not yet understand.

When Frost awoke from a deep rock formation, her first thought was to get away from those aliens and monsters.

There's nobody to communicate with in the sea, and everyone on land eventually hides their original forms and disappears. Fortunately, music can open a crack in the loneliness.

If this situation is resolved, I'll have plenty of time to discuss the past.

I also hope that none of you actually... get involved with either Iberia's or the Ægir's plans.

Why not? I thought you were eager for us to lend a helping hand.

It's been too long since I've been in touch with the Ægir. The tides are crying out, and a lack of information hampers my predictions.

We do not yet know the true origins of this calamity, nor are we able to infer any possibilities.

Worst-case scenario, even you won't have any way to— *sigh*... It seems we have uninvited guests.

...Huh?

They already have the nerve to show themselves openly in town?

Someone's knocking at the door.

Without a word, Kal'tsit turns her eyes to the chapel's doors. The thick wooden slabs had endured an unfathomable amount of turmoil over the years, each mark upon them a chronicle of the past.

She knows there is something outside them, and what it is. What she cannot imagine, however, is that the Church of the Deep's followers would already dare to be so brazen.

Or perhaps...

Outsiders. A grotesque scent, belonging to those strange Ægir.

The two cultists step into the chapel. This Lateran edifice, once wrapped in the cloth of faith, now drapes these two faceless figures.

In their arms, they hold their 'brother,' a Sea Terror—or perhaps just a being stripped of all other names, now nothing more than an expired lifeform.

Look what they're holding in their arms...

A Sea Terror. They don't intend to fight.

The cultist carrying his brother's body passes by Kal'tsit without turning his head, as if he does not even see the two standing in his path.

It is as if he has come all the way from the doors of the chapel to step into the depths of martyrdom.

(Broken Ægirian) My brother, o brother. Hear me out.

(Broken Ægirian) It is our incompetence that led to your untimely fate. It is our cowardice that prevented you from returning to the sea.

(Broken Ægirian) Forgive me, my brother. I can yet hear your voice.

(Broken Ægirian) The people of this world all believe death to be the terminus of all life, but we understand that once our individual forms are transcended, even death itself is powerless.

He lays his brother's remains upon the ground and draws a deep breath. He falls to his knees, his eyes filled with sorrow.

(Broken Ægirian) Until we return to the ocean, I shall be your coffin. I will take you back to the deeps.

(Broken Ægirian) Come, my brother. May you slumber eternally. We shall become one.

The oral ingestion of protein is an act of feeding, yet he did not intend to consume his brother.

He was simply forced to use a more primordial method of bringing the two together as one.

'Chimera.'

Urgh... Aaahh—

What is he doing?

—Assimilation. The simplest method of forcefully penetrating his own torso with the Sea Terror's body.

Should we stop him? It's pretty gross, and totally lacking in aesthetics.

Someone will. But not us.

Juan! What are you doing!

Haah... I... It's still alive... I can feel it... What did you say?

The Inquisition is here!

You... Urgh... Graaah...

Repulsive.

Though this chapel may be deserted, it is still a sacred place to the Iberian Inquisition. And yet, you dare openly blaspheme our laws and creeds.

Someone from the Inquisition actually snuck in? But what happened to that Ægir?!

Juan!

You...! Curse you... Hrrgh... Damn Iberian!

Kill him!

Graaah!

The Sea Terror of the grim lake crests and troughs as the mountains roiling in the twilight. Carrying the scent of rotting flesh, the traitor nearly usurps the throne of his new home, screeching gleefully.

To think that you'd target such a small, inconspicuous town after Sal Viento. Even now, the Inquisition underestimates the scope of the Church of the Deep's influence. Indeed, your taint is pervasive.

Juan! The Inquisitor! You have to—!

You're even weaker than any Church of the Deep remnants I've seen. Why do you insist on staying in this unremarkable town?

Answer me.

You're not gonna help?

You aren't rising from your seat either.

I'm not needed.

Strictly speaking, I'm still a prisoner of Iberia. It is not my place to worry for a High Inquisitor.

Let's talk about the two of us.

We'll stay in this town on the coastline, for a while.

We know how to follow stage directions. If you and your Abyssal Hunters fail, we'll take the Iberians and pull back to an appropriate position.

Assuming the old man outside listens to us, anyway.

...You're willing to help the people on the land.

Frost is young, I'm about the same age as Dan, and Aya maybe a little older.

There's little left for us to love, except... music.

Frailty of body and mind has driven humans to seek breakthroughs within their short lifespans.

And what do you know, they pulled it off.

...Indeed.

But the sea's not a fan of heavy metal.

We don't have a choice. As far as survival is concerned, the land is the lesser evil.

It would not be difficult to get this country to listen. Reveal a few secrets, hint at old wounds, and promise that the same disaster will not strike again.

Can it really be that easy?

Even simpler, if promises can be considered lies.

Monsters! Monsters!

Where's the Inquisition?! Anyone?! Help!

Grr... grr...

Eek!

As ever, Kal'tsit picks the worst meeting locations.

What's going on here?

T-Thank you... A-Are you an Ægir too? From the outside?

...'Too?'

Ah, you refer to AUS. Ægir, eh...

A-Are you here to fight them? You took out those monsters in the blink of an eye...

Your attitude towards the Ægir seems different in this town.

There used to be a lot of them around here, until about twenty years ago.

Did the Inquisition send you? Sh-Should we ask for their help?

None of my concern.

But unless you intend to get hurt, I recommended hiding until this is over.

A-Alright.

This place, they're everywhere.

Not as bad as Sal Viento, but it's still strange.

This town has not been consumed by rot. There are even those leading more or less normal lives here.

The waves have not touched this place.

Then the flotsam has gone into hiding.

No surprise there. If our target is that ship, then Kal'tsit must have chosen this place for a reason.

Should we split up?

I'll find Kal'tsit. You and Shark handle the Sea Terrors.

Right.