act29side

Why do you continue to indulge in self-flagellation, unable to move forward?

Because there might yet be even more precious commitments, even greater sacrifices, even deeper regrets, and even longer suffering ahead?

You can't help but doubt. You can't help but fear.

So then, Ebenholz, who is your enemy?

But Ebenholz, if you don't move toward the light, we can never walk out of that night.

And the night itself is meaningless.

...The night itself is meaningless.

Sehr gut, Franz.

You have defeated your enemies, and broken free of the spire that was your prison.

The Witch King waves his hand and the golden melody, as if finally released, flows toward the door like so many harmless fireflies, quietly drifting in the river of history.

They pass by Ebenholz, brushing against his clothes and hair with a touch ever so gentle.

Ebenholz suddenly feels a baffling sensation. As if the Witch King... had patted him on the head.

Pfft—

Ebenholz cannot control himself, he bursts into laughter.

Ahahahahah! So, after all my tremendous efforts to storm Genesis Horn, I end up winning the praise of His Majesty the Witch King?

He laughs at the image of himself, at his own embarrassment. He laughs at the past nineteen years, realizing he has never laughed this heartily.

Even if thunderous rage were to punish him for his lapse the very next second, and headaches were to him back into the abyss, or even if he were to shatter into pieces, he wants to keep laughing.

But nothing happens.

The endless staircase, the spire of Urtica, even the Witch King, it all vanishes. Nothing remains but an empty throne.

Ebenholz stands before the throne in silence, waiting for the unreal sensation to fade away completely.

You've been watching long enough, Sankta.

In his laughter, I felt a sense of melancholy and... liberation.

The character at the center of this drama finally confronts all that he's been through, whether scripted or in life.

If he finds a new goal, he carries on steadfast.

What about you?

You were the first to enter my Pavillon, even before Fremont.

(Leithanian) The Pavillon... my palace.

Thanks to Yulia, I got a glimpse of what it looks like.

It reproduces all that Leithanien has ever taken pride in. The spires that join the millennia, the knowledge, art, and power accumulated over generations, undiminished by time.

There is nothing else like it, an immense project beyond human capability.

In fact, I speculated on it even before.

The soldier, the painter, the scholar, the tuner... I've met each of those who personally witnessed 'Der Tod des Hexenkönigs.'

That night made the deepest impression on their lives. They were entangled by it, trapped in the contradictions of their times and themselves.

Through them, I reconstructed the last melody you left in the mortal plane.

Hoarse and cacophonous, impossible to interpret through conventional music theory... This melody couldn't possibly point to a legacy to inherit, as your followers had expected.

...It was never meant for the mortal plane.

The echoes painstakingly collected by the people of Leithanien are the bricks and mortar of this palace, another form of construction material you left behind.

They would ultimately be found by others, but who could uncover their purpose?

Fame, honor, wealth... an individual, a house, a class... These shallow 'motifs' run throughout all melodies, across all lands.

The meaning of music has always been so narrow.

Sankta, unlike those foolish ministers, you come from the so-called 'holy city' and are unconcerned with Leithanien's past and future.

Nor are you a Lich. Unaware of the existence of Kargereich, you do not walk the path that Fremont does.

And so, why are you here?

Before I explain my purpose, I have a question...

At this very moment, as we stand here, are you only a strand of strings trembling in rigor mortis? A patchwork of flickering lights subjectively colored by emotion, one of the countless fragments of consciousness...?

Or are you the fully intact Witch King?

I had meant to play you...

The physical rules underpinning sound cannot be realized in Kargereich.

However, the place I stand does not acknowledge the rules of Kargereich.

The loss of sound is your own limitation, and has nothing to do with the Pavillon.

Music is your eyes, your ears, your heart... your everything.

You think you've lost all perception, yet desire is stronger. You are a dull yet interesting observer.

Arturia releases her grip on the cello and simply looks at the Witch King.

His entire life, all he has been through, his thoughts and emotions collectively resonate through the space, filling every cubic inch. This is the palace he has built for himself.

You walked in, you see what he sees.

Arturia sees what she had read in the old Lich's memories, the 'blackness.'

Infinite 'blackness,' or rather— 'chaos.'

Human understanding of this word often comes from the negative emotions associated with it—confusion, disorientation, sadness, anxiety, fear...

In reality, it normally refers to a state that is difficult to describe, or an object or concept that cannot be established.

But this is the only word that can describe the scene before Arturia.

Desolation. A land of annihilation.

What sits behind the material world, the vector of collapse.

No visible boundaries, no discernible direction. Sound, light, shape, color...

Things that do not belong in the same dimension mix, stack, and stretch. The cursed lifeforms and their environment are symbiotic, even mutual bodies.

Annihilation is the only ecology here.

'Chaos' surrounds the Witch King's palace, like sunlight and air surrounding a... bubble that could burst with a touch.

The Witch King's Spire stands in the center of the palace, with Originium crystals growing from its base like moss between the bricks.

But such moss covers the entire palace, connecting seemingly irregular spires and other buildings, comprising some vague formation.

Chaos invades the outermost cluster of spires, like a rising layer of mist. Once the mist dissipates, Der Wiener Uhrturm and Die Tür des Wissens no longer exist.

Clearly, the palace is gradually emptying. But its boundaries remain, as if adhering to predetermined rules.

My casters, my musicians, do not resist the storm of lightning and dust. In years past, they destroyed the Gaulish fleets, and now they will push back this chaos!

Celestial phenomena and calamities join the symphony, as Originium shapes new connections for you. Your bodies and consciousnesses will become a part of the instruments, strings, and troop formations!

Fill the gaps, reform the lines!

Kargereich is beyond comprehension? Demons cannot be captured? Incompetence is nothing but cowardice. Return all intelligence to the Spire for analysis!

Confront it, comprehend it, conquer it! In the name of Leithanien!

Vibrate the strings of our lives until they break!

The King of Casters stands proudly on his throne, with all the spires at his command. This founding of a nation occurs simultaneously with the push-and-pull of war, as it did in Leithanian history.

Amid the unending chaos, the Witch King is the only comprehensible order.

Your enemy is terrifying, so... incomprehensible.

Is 'Leithanien' your unwavering cause? Even death cannot end it.

Just as Herr Fremont predicted, your palace is suffering an irreversible collapse.

Do you regret it? If you hadn't become a tyrant, if the mutinous army hadn't seized your spire, if death hadn't ended your study of Kargereich...?

Would you have had the time to make this palace more stable, unshaken by chaos?

Do you ever wonder, if you weren't the Witch King, if you didn't stand on the shoulders of all Leithanien...?

Could you master Arts and knowledge beyond the reach of mere mortals? Could you surpass reality itself? Could you build your own spire within Kargereich?

Your questions are meaningless, Sankta.

I have no regrets, and I do not wonder.

I do not fear monsters, nor do I fear becoming one.

Then, Your Majesty, I come in search of confirmation.

Confirmation? It has been a long time since someone spoke to me of such things.

I seek from you the greatest answer a human heart can seek—A future.

An ideal future.

Why are you standing there like a fool? Was the blow too hard? Do you have brain damage?

...What's <i>your</i> excuse?

Oh what a comeback. A rude little goat you are.

You saw him too. Did you win?

Win...?

In this ruined place, I could fight that man innumerable times, debate him for innumerable years.

But how could I win a debate with an echo? How could I kill a dead man?

...Then we might as well leave.