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Tch... the further in we go, the more Sea Terrors there are.

It's getting dangerous...

Maestro... how do I become like them...?

Gkh...

Seaborn?!

(It's the same one we saw on the deck. The Hunter's attacks didn't do any damage?!)

(How will it come at me? With its limbs? Its fangs?)

(My handcannon... I need to create distance—)

Wait.

Wait a second! What's that on your belt?!

Why would you... could you be...?!

Graaaahhhh!!

Argh! *Cough*

(What strength! I barely managed to block it!)

...I...

Do you have something to say, monster?

I can't go down here... I won't!

I'm an Inquisitor of Iberia!

*Cough*...

It has taken too long to burn away the nethersea brand.

The situation's not looking good.

(Numerous slithering sounds)

(I can see what's going on down there from here.)

How many hours have passed? How much longer can he hang on?

I... if I... no, don't think about it, Jordi. Focus!

The Inquisition... Hurry...

Is that all?

Grr...

Listen to your friends wail. The flower of Sal Viento at least had its beauty, but what about you?

As my first dance lesson after waking up, I must say you're underwhelming.

Gkh!

It's getting away!

I'll go after it. You go find the little Iberian bird.

How are you feeling?

Better than ever. My memories are tumbling down like a waterfall from the heavens. It'll take a while for the full picture to emerge, though.

And some of my more recent memories are rather embarrassing.

I'll go. Your mind is still unstable.

Oh? Trying to steal my prey?

It'll try to escape to the sea.

Of course it will. But it wasn't running just because it couldn't win.

What did it find?

We don't have time—

*cough* I'll never get used to handcannons.

Hey, where are you—

Huh? The Abyssal Hunters?

Hello, Irene. I see you've brought us more prey.

Did you just call me Irene? Have you... have you regained your memories?

Not entirely, but I know I'm in a great mood right now.

This is not the time.

That's the one from the deck. It's fast enough to dodge the captain's lunge.

I really must tip my hat to you, Irene. For chasing it all the way here without taking a scratch.

I can't take credit for it. It hardly even attacked. Look, it's still not, even now.

I see... I thought it wouldn't be able to resist if we chatted like this and showed it an opening.

Your friend just left, you know. It's not too late to go after them.

Or are you a pacifist too?

(Kazimierz, a landlocked country where Skadi stayed for a time. A place of sprawling grasslands and forests, the Land of Knights.)

(Knights...)

Is it a coincidence? Or did something draw him there?

This ship, Breogan. What did you intend to leave behind for your homeland? Where have you hidden the answer?

...Hmm.

(Sea Terror carcasses? And not only that...)

(The wounds are clean and precise. They show no signs of resistance. Scents mingle in the air. The air here is stale.)

(What else is there on this ship?)

Your belt and pocket watch are undoubtedly human in origin, and even in the Iberian style!

What are you?

It's stalling for time.

This will get complicated if the other one gets back to the ocean.

Still not attacking? What a passive dance partner.

I'll take the lead, Skadi.

Right.

—Guh!

Guh... grrrr... gah...

Come on, fight back already. I'm starting to feel like the bad guy.

...No!

It's not stalling for time!

Who defiles my Iberia? Heathens...

The sound of bells?! What?

(Sharp screech)

Bells echo through the empty hall.

The lights in the hall flash. The Seaborn lands in the direction of the throne while the three are distracted.

Yes, the throne.

There is a throne on this Iberian ship. A symbol of pride, power, arrogance, and deceit.

It's like...

Specter trails off, knowing what she was about to say was far too absurd.

It wears a crown, and drapes itself in the same colors as the curtains. It kneels by the side of the throne, the two inextricably bonded with one another.

It resembles the queens and ministers of old, serving the golden sun of Iberia.

A silhouette emerges from behind the throne.

Irene raises her lantern over her head, trying to illuminate the shadowy figure.

Why do you set foot on my ship?

*cough* *cough* Pah.

Who would ignore a question from the great Alfonso? Why are you here?

Why have you broken the silence, and come for MY Iberia, which had lain forgotten for decades?

I will start with you. Answer me, child of Old Iberia.

Irene could not believe her eyes.

She'd seen the Seaborn's face before. She had devoted much time of her time during her Inquisitor training to the study of history, immersing herself in doctrines and creeds.

How dare this Seaborn claim to be Alfonso?

How dare it claim to be Iberia's greatest ship captain?

—You, you can't possibly be the captain of this ship, monster!

Alfonso was almost fifty years-old sixty years ago, but you look even younger than the great hero was back then!

Irene knows she is shaken, but she cannot show weakness.