act17side

*yawn*... Is it morning already?

The operators' equipment was a lot more seriously damaged than we anticipated... Still, the fact that they managed to save so many people from that Catastrophe is a testament to how amazing they are.

Mhm. I've got to chin up as well.

Hi Maria, I'm here to pick up an order from the Engineering Department.

Oh, Grani! Just a moment. Let's see... where did I put that? Sorry, I haven't tidied this place up for a few days, so it's a bit of a dump.

Ahaha... It sure looks more like a proper Kazimierzian workshop than the last time I stopped by. Huh? What's this?

A novel?

'The Last Knight'! What's that doing here? Did it get stuck underneath the blueprints when I was flipping through my boxes and drawers yesterday? I was wondering where it had gone.

'The Last Knight'?

It used to be my favorite book. My sister gave it to me as a gift when I was little.

A knight novel from Kazimierz, huh?

Mind lending it to me?

Sure thing!

Ugh, so that's where the book on Arts Unit theory ended up... Sorry Grani, this might take a while. I can bring it over to you later, if you like.

Don't worry, it's not urgent. Just means I get to stay on Rhodes Island a bit longer this time.

I'll just be over here reading, to pass the time.

I'm really, really sorry about this.

'The Last Knight.'

The title is as pompous as it is cliché. There have probably been hundreds of books written about the last knight, the swiftest knight, or the strongest knight.

But seeing how the Radiant Knight gifted it to her own sister, surely there must be more to it than that?

With that thought, Grani opens it up, only to find a bookmark wedged inside.

Written in wobbly Kazimierzian letters is a line that may well have been copied from the book.

'If you deem the waves too raucous, then command the ocean to be still.' Huh...?

Legend has it that the Last Knight returned to Iberia. The enemies reflected in his eyes were not living creatures, but rather, he charged at the mountains, the cities, and the waves.

Legend has it that the Last Knight settled by the coast, sustaining himself on the wind and taking shelter in the mist, until at last he forgot how to remove his helmet.

Legend has it that the Last Knight finally disappeared after clashing against the great waves. His family discovered what he'd left behind along the shore and brought it back to the Land of Knights, burying it deep in the mountains.

Legend has it that his or her story was brought to light by a poet. Embellished, sung, given both meaning and symbolism. And in this form, they did finally return to the Land of Knights, as a highly controversial figure.

However...

...There are some who believe that the mad knight triumphed over the ocean, over time, over death itself. That his quest continues until the end of all things.

What... are you?

The knight does not answer. His deathly gaze is fixed on Gladiia.

However, she quickly realizes that he is not actually looking at her.

He stares only at the key in her hands.

Guh... *cough* *cough*... Hiss...

The knight opens his mouth as if to speak. But only a shriveled rasp comes forth, like the sound of muscle tearing.

He begins to take a step forward.

Where did you get that key?

Oh, I did not intend to... pry into Rhodes Island's internal affairs.

But that is Breogan's legacy, passed through the hands of the four Feranmuts to once again return to that Abyssal Hunter.

By pure coincidence, one of the Hunters found it in Kazimierz.

...Kazimierz? What a distant land. I still remember journeying with my mentor to receive an envoy from the Land of Knights, and secretly overhearing a few Silverlance campaign knights describing their ideals.

I hear the country has changed considerably since then.

For better or worse, every political entity has undergone similar changes in our current era. But that has nothing to do with Iberia.

We are like ensnared beasts. Should we struggle, we suffer and bleed. Should we give up, our lives are forfeit.

Before we unmask those still-human traitors, I have a new question for you, Kal'tsit.

No doubt you've already realized this, but that child couldn't possibly be Breogan's descendant. The Inquisition would not have missed such a vital clue.

So why would you still condemn him to a meaningless death?

(Calls out to its kin with a slithering sound)

High Inquisitor!

...Their numbers are increasing. But, none of them showed up until we reached the lighthouse.

S-Sir, I've found a way to open the main door!

But the Eye of Iberia's core facilities are at the top of the tower. And it's very, very tall! The lift mechanism isn't working either, so we can only get up there by foot!

(Slithering sounds)

High Inquisitor, we need more time!

Take the Ægir with you.

There is no time to spare, Irene.

Aye! Right away!

Wait, hold on!

(Intense slithering sounds)

Oh, are they here? No, the lantern's flames are flickering. Something has stepped into my Arts' domain.

(Cowering slithering sounds)

(They're scared. Strange, these things have never shown signs of fear before.)

(Confusion then? But what could be the cause...?)

(Confused slithering sounds)

The High Inquisitor raises his lantern high, and the Sea Terror in turn retreats into the shadows of the reef.

When he looks around once more, he notices the reef is littered with corroded and broken weapons, soaked with the fresh blood of monsters.

Arms belonging to the Inquisition. As his mentor Carmen had said, it is not as if the Inquisition had never considered reclaiming the sole remaining lighthouse.

Being unaffected by the Profound Silence, it's been quite well-preserved.

Even so, the Inquisition has never made a serious attempt to retrieve its own Eye following the Profound Silence.

This place used to be a spectacular overlook. A breathtaking, unobstructed view of the entire city.

It had been manned by Iberians, day in, day out.

(Cautious slithering sounds)

But you've taken it as a feeding ground, building a nest for your spawn without permission.

Hup...

Emotions.

Long-lost emotions.

From soldier to Inquisitor, and finally to one who sees the truth. He has been tempered, lost and reforged anew countless times. And thus, Dario became one of the few High Inquisitors in Iberia.

Only a single word separates an Inquisitor from a High Inquisitor, but that single word is the difference between heaven and earth.

He used to regard himself as resolute as steel. Before Iberia's enemies, his lantern would flicker, his sabre would glimmer, and every line of the Scriptures would be put into practice.

But now, he feels a type of strong emotion welling up within him. One not solely a product of the law and justice that is preached.

After acknowledging its rationality, High Inquisitor Dario accepts the fact that he is truly experiencing grief and anger. His handcannon takes aim at the Sea Terror, yet his eyes are directed towards the sea.

When you die, mankind may thrive.

These words are not a part of our laws or scriptures, but rather yours. 'Survival of the fittest.'

Right here!

It's just as the records say! The lighthouse relies on the power source located at its base, and the core column is divided into several areas. The console on this floor controls—

...Controls what?

Uhh, signal recording.

We should be able to put that to use later. But for now, we need to prioritize powering the entire lighthouse. Let's continue.

Hopefully all goes well until reinforcements arrive.

Ugh—!

What's wrong, Doña Irene?

...It's nothing. Probably just my imagination. Maestro... the High Inquisitor is keeping guard outside. We'll be fine.

A-Alright... After we restart the lighthouse's power system, we should be able to use the lift as well. That way the others will be able to catch up to us soon enough.

So let's hurry!

There's something odd about him. Some kind of... lingering scent.

But what is it?

The scent of another land. Nothing you'd be interested in.

He is without a doubt a Seaborn. But not the same as Quintus.

How is it possible for so many land creatures to become Seaborn though? They shouldn't have frequent contact with the ocean.

With no way to communicate, we can do nothing but let his body lose all function.