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For example, Loris Bordin. You have to become him, imagine the night he charged into the Witch King's Spire. Picture how he became a hero, how crestfallen he was by Yulia's case, and...

When you're finally forced to doubt yourself, and find yourself wavering, lost, like me... you'll realize that you need a strength, a reason.

And that's when you'll discover that the law offers no guidance.

Why do barriers never cease to be? Is mankind doomed never to understand one another?

The tiniest chaos is enough to shatter the order. The moment confusion envelops, people begin to hurt one another...

Each era has its own trials and tribulations, for which we can only prepare to the best of our ability. It is certain, however, that you have been chosen because It believes that you have the ability to respond to the unknown.

You are well aware that there is another besides yourself very unique among the Sankta.

Bring her back, if possible. I need to meet with her, face to face.

Fede, your whole life, you have been different, different from all the others.

Can you really... not see everything I see in the music?

Thanks to Grimmacht, both my ears and my soul have been saved.

A failed attempt, I take it? Let's not try that again. We have to acknowledge that some people simply lack the talent for music.

Yes, I cannot empathize with Loris or anyone else, nor do I see the illusions created by the notes.

But I do have realized that emotions are also information.

What do you mean by that?

As you said, Arturia's performances are completely different from mine. The notes arranged in order have no inherent meaning, but with added emotion, they become a piece of music beloved by you people.

And so, I have come to understand that emotion is a kind of additional information.

Arturia played her music, playing the hearts of Loris and others, to extract information from their powerful emotions that even they themselves could not retrieve.

This is something only Arturia can do.

Her objective has not yet been achieved, nor will she abandon it. There will be even greater chaos in the coming days, here in Zwillingstürme.

...Are you certain?

I could spend time explaining the finer logic to you, but I assess that you will find it difficult to share my thought process. As such, I suggest you consider my conclusion a kind of... intuition.

Herr Executor, there is someone you should see. She can help you.

Congratulations, you're about to be rid of me.

What, I shouldn't say such things? What would you rather hear? Mockery, anger, curses? Or a seemingly invincible enemy pulled straight from a story begging for mercy before their departure from the stage?

Don't forget, <i>you</i> wanted to see me. Whenever you have doubts, you unconsciously seek out my voice.

You want to hear me deny you, and then, in denying <i>me</i>, you can win some silly comfort for yourself.

It is not I who needs you. You need me.

Bloodline of Urtica, Franz, Ebenholz——Without me, what does your future hold?

It's done.

What do you mean...? What's done?

I've removed the Voice of Mundane from your head.

But...

But nothing happened, is that it? It could never summon the Genesis Horn in the first place!

It's like watching a crowd of people nervously gathering to light a fuse and blow Zwillingstürme up, only to hear a soft pop like a gloompincer's depressing fart.

But didn't you say the melody of the Witch King could open the door to the Genesis Horn?

Yes, the <i>right</i> melody. Do you think you can open a locked door with any old key?! Don't compare my research on Herkunftshorn with the pile of rubbish they stuffed into your brain.

Those idiots and their Infected bombing couldn't manage a thing!

Ha, 'The Voice of Mundane'... Do the people who come up with this stuff even know the difference between a proper creation and a belch?

Was it Gerhard who filled your heads with all this? Would you mind if I dug him up and knocked him around a bit more?

But they told me the Voice of Mundane housed the Witch King's avatar.

Avatar? Haha... avatar.

That'd be like me rolling my soul into a ball and tossing it into the amphitheater beneath the spire for you stupid lambs to kick about. You really think that can be done?

That's enough, boy. I'm in a bad mood, a positively rotten one. I thought by doing this one last favor for Grimmacht, I'd be able to take my things and finally be rid of this wretched place.

Who'd have thought those masked morons would make a fool of me... No, they made me a whole circus!

I should have Ermengarde look me over, see if a Lich's age has any effect on his brain.

He said... The Voice of Mundane is just noise.

It is certainly a melody left by the Witch King, that's true. But Gerhard and his men misunderstood its power. It isn't the key to the Witch King's legacy.

Then what about the... voice in my head?

I don't understand the Arts behind it.

The problem of the Voice of Mundane has been resolved. You may still suffer headaches and hallucinations, but I expect they won't be so bad going forward.

Just to be safe, you should stay here and rest a while. Then leave Zwillingstürme after Das Kaiserinnensfest.

So, the voice is just my imagination then?

All these years, and all of my struggles were just in my head? In the somewhat more figurative sense?

Apparently, I have nothing whatsoever to do with any grand plans of those lofty conspirators.

And to speak of killing myself before I went mad... Hah, I've been mad for a long, long time.

I don't have time to discuss this with you.

...Right.

You grandfather says that the rubbish in my head tainted the research on Herkunftshorn. So why care about me, an inferior product? Particularly after we've known that none of his power lies within me.

I can't summon a Catastrophe cloud with a wave of my hand, nor can I cleave a spire with a swing of a sword—

What do you want?

The power is still there. Since you've removed the Voice of Mundane, why not... kill me?

The Voice of Mundane is not the key, meaning I'm of no use to the Twin Empresses. Why not burn me and mine to ashes, like all the experiments of the Witch King era?

Because there is no...

...No need? Is that it?

Then what about my brother? He died. He died because of a stupid plan like... To borrow a phrase, like a gloompincer's depressing fart. Such nonsense... such <i>irony</i>!

He was grateful, you know, right up until he died... Grateful for our meeting, grateful for the instructor who taught him the cello.

But our meeting was exploited by Gertrude. The teacher he admired was mixed up with the Witch King's remains.

Hah, and now you tell me... you tell me the Voice of Mundane was all a wacky misunderstanding the entire time!

So we lived, died, met, parted, all for what? Where is the meaning in any of it?

Alright, if you want an answer, I'll tell you.

You're right. There was no meaning in any of it.

Set aside the Urtica name. Without the Voice of Mundane, you're nothing but a self-absorbed, self-harming, self-destructive empty shell of a pretty boy.

Perfect. You finally did it.

Now take up your Arts Unit.

Why not unwrap the bandages on your sword? That would make this execution go even smoother.

The man before me is unworthy of it.

Even now, you just have to humili—

Then fight back. Prove me wrong by your actions.

Ugh...

You loathe the bloodline of the Witch King. But have you ever sought out the victims of his persecution? To make amends, to help them, to compensate them?

You loathe the title of Graf Urtica. But have you ever looked into the safety of the commoners? Taken note of the decline of your domain, caught between the Twin Empresses and the Witch King's remains?

You lament being the only survivor. But you have not been cherishing the life ahead of you. Instead, you constantly throw yourself into danger.

You say you were a prisoner of your spire. But who, in the end, has never looked beyond his cage at anyone else?

Lessing's sword moves so quickly that dodging is nearly impossible. He's rarely spoken so many words in one breath.

At first, Ebenholz had no intention of dodging, but almost instinctively, the Originium dice float into the air. Arts pour out uncontrollably, like fiery rage.

Blood, title, duty, everything was forced upon me by fate.

I tried! I stood against it! And in the end, you tell me there was never any need to!

Why? Why did I have to go through all this when I'm nobody at all?

Lessing's sword presses against Ebenholz's throat. The Originium dice fall to the side.

The battle is over, the outcome a surprise to no one.

Our fight against fate never belonged to any of us. And so, what does the suffering we've endured... even count for?

I never received a noble's education, and I don't throw around words like 'fate.'

I only know that all the suffering is real.

I've seen street hawkers beaten by the Gendarmerie in the alleyways. I've seen old men freeze to death on the roadside after losing their farmland to the rural nobility.

They'll never see the Witch King, the Twin Empresses, or a Kurfürsten in their life. They'll never have the time or energy to contemplate fate, suffering, or meaning.

That's life in the shadow of the spires, for the great masses of Leithanien.

No one can overcome an abstract concept. If you want revenge, choose a concrete target. The Witch King, the Twin Empresses, the still living remnants.

We fight to survive. And we don't stop until our own blood or that of our enemies runs dry.

Fight...