act29side

You had the chance to perform this witchcraft long ago, in that secret room in Ludwigs-Universität.

How long has it been, as they count time outside?

A hundred and thirty years or so.

In the next moment, the belated witchcraft crosses both the protracted span of time and the divergent paths of its companions to be cast once more.

Heavy, grizzled rain falls upwards. Kargereich seems to be flipped over by this stream of flow, and the Exile, which is taking his full effort to perform, is soft and permeated with an unusual beauty.

You have never made yourself a greater fool, Fremont.

Phylacteries are a knot you Liches tie inside the veil, one that resonates with your life. It is impossible for you to not feel its presence.

Raindrops cluster into strings, dancing in the void to the rhythm of Fremont's breathing.

His breaths are nothing unusual, but a long-lost abundance of emotions wells up from the depths of his soul.

Fremont casually touches his pocket, only to discover that his lost key has been lying quietly there, within reach all along.

Did I not already return it to you, long ago?

Fremont, the phylactery is a constant, a keystone upon which Liches accumulate their time.

You are always one step ahead of death. I am not.

A fact you refuse to acknowledge. Why?

The moment the entire space is soaked, the Lich's strings finally envelop the Witch King. Embracing, entangling, almost forming a coffin-like shape.

You have no words for me but farewells at this moment. Tell me, Fremont, my dearest friend.

Why is this spire still lacking...?

The age-indifferent Lich merely stands before the empty space, without a hint of expression on his face.

The traces of the Exile scatter, and the threads feel not the Witch King's presence, as if the ferocious Caprinae with the twisted horns had never existed in the first place.

Only his final murmur remains in the air.

As weighty as an interrogation, as light as a sigh.

She does not know when it happened, but Arturia finds herself standing before the spire.

She listens in a daze. There is no one able to answer her question, and the sighs are silenced.

So those were your parting words. And... your 'answer.'

Henceforth, Leithanien will never again have a Witch King.

So this is where you were, Arturia.

Federico...

Federico looks up and sees the gigantic black spire gradually lose its shape and color before his eyes, as its faded Originium clusters dissipate into vestiges.

Even the Witch King, known far and wide as history's most powerful soul, was unable to resist his inevitable demise.

Freeze.

Federico lifts his gun.

Leithanien's Twin Empresses have already intervened directly, and the overall impact of this case has far exceeded the initial risk assessment of the mission.

Once this has concluded, I will contact Pope Yvangelista XI as soon as possible.

Until then, your freedom will be restricted until we can return to Laterano.

No.

Federico has heard her answer.

The distant relative he knows all too well does not engage in her usual meaningless push-and-pull of emotional logic and kinship. She simply refuses wearily and walks towards him.

You can pull the trigger now, Federico.

Right this very moment, in the chaos known as Kargereich, you're the only one before my eyes, and there is no one I can perform for.

I've lost my music. I won't run, and I can't play any games either.

There are holes in your logic, Arturia.

Arturia walks straight past him, as if she did not hear him at all.

The Genesis Spire... is disintegrating.

Herkunftshorn is dead, so naturally the bubble he was bracing will also burst.

Is he really no longer here?

You don't believe your own eyes? Even after dropping that attitude of yours not so long ago?

...So in the end, Grimmacht and Ewigegnade were still the only ones who could kill him.

Wonderful, you only sound <i>mildly</i> disappointed this time. One day you'll look back on today and realize with even more clarity just how fortunate you were to turn away from the fate that lay before you.

Something dangles down from Fremont's robe.

Suddenly, Ebenholz realizes Fremont's shadow has remained in pace, even as the man himself just stepped closer.

The shadow wraps around the crumbling throne, stretching all the way along the steps before gradually coiling around the entire spire.

Your shadow...

My <i>shadow</i>...? Hah! Don't let your eyes deceive you.

What you see are my threads, my destiny... the essence of my being.

You are the second Leithanian besides Herkunftshorn to perceive my true form.

Are you using your lifethreads to hold up the collapsing space?

But aren't they more important than flesh and blood to you Liches?

Herkunftshorn did a lot of disgraceful things, but he was right about one thing.

Annihilation is almost upon us. If we let Kargereich leak out and deep fry Leithanien into a cavity of nothingness, we'll all be gone, Lich or not.

So run, little lamb.

This place can't hold the living for much longer. Leave this tomb quickly, lest death catches up to you.

Shadows crawl all over the old Lich's body.

Shades of black instantly split into countless threads.

They fly towards every falling piece of debris and crack in the void.

But the vibrations still intensify.

It's too late.

The collapse is... right before us.

Can it... rain in this space too?

Ah, these are Herr Fremont's threads. He's always kept himself so neat and tidy, unlike other Liches. I've never seen him grow so many threads.

The Genesis Horn can no longer support this place.

We need to return to reality before this place falls completely apart.

Then we'll need to find a way out first.

A brilliant ray of Arts?

Empresses' Voice Viviana Droste. I should have fought alongside Your Majesties. Please forgive me for my tardiness.

...It's you.

Viviana, your light is somewhat brighter than before.

That's because... I saw true darkness.

I was just walking along an endless spiral staircase, witnessing the collapse of one possible reality after another... and was almost swallowed by the chaos.

After that, at some point, I caught a glimpse into the darkness, and...

I haven't the slightest idea what I saw.

Perhaps it was the deepest of dreads, the largest of voids, complete disarray, and... a calamity we cannot comprehend.

They lay dormant within the chaos, and I felt their gaze upon me.

Grimmacht, Ewigegnade—

The enemy is advancing like a blitz. They are about to invade everything known to us.

I can't feel the thread anymore?

Oh, no no no—the threads are all vibrating together! They're so intense I can't make out the one connected to the Genesis Horn!

Lessing... Lessing!

(Unprecedented noise)

Frau Ermengarde, Herr Maeyer is over here!

He shouldn't have...

I'm... not dead yet.

Phew. My threads are a mess, so it's hard to sense you even at this distance.

And the professor... we were still connected earlier.

The other Liches and I were pulling on reality from our side, while he was doing the same to the Genesis Horn from his end. It wasn't easy, but we managed to achieve a balance!

But things are looking bad now, it's all gone wrong.

They're... no longer making any noise.

Nein, it's not just the dead.

The music... it stopped.

The... the Witch King... the Twin Empresses...

Sturm... land... Ma... Martha...