act18d0

Not one team's retreated from that town yet. Chances are they're all still looking for their target.

Of course. Everyone swarming that tiny of a town at once is just going to add to the chaos, waste time and nothing else.

Hold on, our Caster's gotten news. Something's up...

What?

There's a freight truck... registration Tkaronto, Columbia... parked near the Central Smoke bazaar.

A woman and a monster? Monster? What monster—oh.

Line cut off. He gets careless too?

No, his ambush point is at least a kilometer out from the bazaar. It shouldn't have been that fast. Not unless whatever team this is knew the topography here like the backs of their hands... or maybe, they're just experienced enough to blow anyone off the sand.

Could it be someone from Vouivre? Or some other cutthroat here on Columbia's dime?

Let's watch this unfold first.

*pant*... *pant*...

*cough* *cough*... Why did... Teacher... *cough* *cough*!

Our target's around here! He can't get that far carrying a body—

Tch! We've got trouble! No hesitating! Kill!

...am... am I safe...?

...Teacher, Teacher... come on, wake up...

The... I can't stop the blood... you still haven't taught me so much... what do you want me to do...

...Target found.

Don't move! One more inch and I'll cut your head off!

Scared stupid, aren't you, talking to a dead guy? Uh-huh?

Put that idiot on your back down and tell me, where is it!?

...I...

I don't know...

Mmph—

Don't try and fool me, you worthless... huh?

Is this... the 'Sand Soldier' leader's body? What are you... wait, do you have it on you?

—Don't touch him!

Gah! Who do you think you are—piss off!!

Ugh...

The silver combination box! So here it is... heheh, hahahah!

Let go of it! Get—Get out of my way!

Heh, now we've got the target, we don't need to leave any survivors.

Don't blame me, kid. This is my job—

Wha—What the hell is—?!

Grrr...

What is that—hey, is anyone there?! I've run into an unidenti—

(Shrieks)

—Ugh!

Machine... no, creature?! What the hell kind of thing are you?!

Don't get any—why aren't my bolts doing anything—don't get any closer! Any closer and I'll kill you!

(Snickers)

Before his eyes, the monster skewers the ruffian.

It lightly unfolds its body, like a stretch in the early morning.

...Mon3tr.

(Responds)

Ah... ah...

The boy is frozen in place, having long lost the voice to cry out.

He holds only an ice-cold carcass, the blood of the dead clotting on his chest, reminiscent of a flower.

Elliot, you're safe.

Who... who are you... How do you know me?

I know every last esteemed scientist of the Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute.

But none of you know what kind of plot this whole affair has been drawn into. I'm here to stop you, and here to protect you.

Protect...?

You're already late... too late...

You didn't let your fine teacher's legacy fall into those conspirators' hands. You've done well enough.

What do you mean, protect...

—You want to protect these! The blueprint, the sample, not me! And not Teacher!

You're just like them! Teacher's dead! All the people who were helping us are dead too! You're all just fighting over this case—you—you—*cough* *cough*, *cough*—

Adviser, we've confirmed three mercenary teams hired by lords ameer across the map, as well as one Sarkaz unit on a cliff outside the town, affiliation unknown for now.

According to our plans, we still have seven minutes.

I've found one survivor, sample in hand.

The evac route is secure.

Converge in three minutes.

Tell me, Elliot. The Vouivre soldier you're carrying on your back: what did he die for?

...Shut up...

Right now, you stand here, you live, and you carry what every mercenary here wants.

The squad operated under the name 'Sand Soldiers'... but in actuality, all that came to Sargon was a research team, and a typical security force from Tkaronto.

Whether or not he persisted in his duty until the end, whether or not he paid mind to your safety until the end, didn't he entrust a deep responsibility to you?

Whether or not because of your own immature temperament, are you going to make a total waste of all your soldiers' full efforts?

I only need an answer.

As long as I can ensure that this prototype blueprint doesn't fall into any lord ameer's hands, I will not go out of my way to mind anything else. I hope for you to understand this.

High alert. You still aren't willing to speak much.

But I remember... the man on your back is Professor Thorne. Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute, Head Researcher.

He was not a true soldier. Yet a true soldier is what he is.

You...

Just put him down. Or you could be buried together with him in the yellow dust.

I trust he believed his death had a purpose, and you should not squander his sacrifice.

No...

He's already dead.

No! This isn't your business!

At least give him a decent burial.

...Mon3tr.

(Hissing)

What's... What's that ball of light?

Lower your head.

Ngh—!

...You... You want me to bury Teacher in here?

Professor Thorne is an old friend of mine. The situation is abnormal. We have no chance to more solemnly address his sacrifice.

Every person's life is an endless war.

On certain motives, his ancestors left Sargon. Wandering again and again, he found a life he could call his own, yet in the end he returned to Sargon's barrens.

His cause, his just heart, his thirst for knowledge all arrived at their terminus.

The Professor Thorne I knew was in no way unversed in life's affairs. Candidly, he confronted his own death, and until the very end resisted.

Elliot, just put him down.

I...

This is respect for the deceased. Surely you understand, he wouldn't have wished to become a burden on your path?

Okay... okay...

(Ancient Vouivran language) May his soul, with the long river, return.

Vouivran...? Are—Are you from Vouivre?

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he, as the gravel, pass into eternal tranquility.

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he ever hear his homeland's whispers. May he, at the other shore, meet the great waves.