act29side

Out on a lawn in the rain. I'm attending my first funeral.

<i>'My thanks to Arturia. It was her music that helped free me of my fetters.'</i>

<i>'And my thanks to you, Marcello. Thank you for blessing me with a wonderful life all these years. I doubt we'll be apart for long.'</i>

<i>'Once this war is over, we'll be together again.'</i>

I stand before the gravestone, watching guests walk up, one by one, to pay their respects to my mother.

I hear their voices clearly—sorrow, lament, regret, ridicule, hatred, glee... but why, and how, were they still able to maintain the most suitable sadness on their faces?

Do we not respect life only by facing death with our truest feelings?!

I remember what you told me, Mamma. I can still hear your voice from time to time. How much courage do I need, to be able to struggle free from my ego day after day? To be brave enough to make that first step?

Freedom is so hard to find.

But death... why is death so easy?!

I had finished my performance by the time I awoke.

Fede. Once again, I couldn't control my own music.

Hm?

Arturia, you revere death so much.

Death erases one's existence so easily, and puts all emotions to rest.

The melodies of those who faced the truth and, inevitably, their deaths leave you impressed, but more often they leave you fearing, hating, doubting. But you—you are silent.

How much more do you need to perform as you wander endlessly about? How long before you finally reach that future? How many more blank pieces do you need to compose for yourself?

Even silence will be played, and every composition must have its conclusion.

I saw your only truth.

You are so, so fragile.

Arturia opens her eyes.

She seems to have walked for a long time. Time is like a river, and people travel along with the flow. But why is she, step by step, trudging back the way she came?

She feels she has become a broken vessel. And the unwavering affection, intense hatred, tremendous courage, and unreconcilable despair and remorse she has experienced through thousands of people...

They drain from her, drop by drop... until she is left with only her empty self.

She finds herself outside Kargereich, in a plaza surrounded by a crowd. Emotionless faces walk past her, and she stands there in a daze mirroring the same expression as everyone else.

Arturia looks up, lifting her head from the lawn she never left.

Dark clouds drift over her, and a glistening drop of rain falls on her face, like a tear—

—A tear for the grief and vulnerability she could not admit in time.

Martha, my love, you were the one who lifted me up from my darkest days, inspiring me.

But now I can only live with thoughts of you.

Should I go looking for you? Even if our fathers disagree, you must at least know that my love for you has never wavered, not in the slightest.

Martha... my love, you were the one who lifted me up from my darkest days, inspiring me to do whatever I wanted...

But now I can only live with thoughts of you.

I should go looking for you. Even if our fathers disagree, you must at least know that my love for you...

Every person in the huge amphitheater before the Spires is muttering something on repeat. They speak of their feelings, but their words lack even a hint of emotion.

They do not see Arturia, or anyone else.

A triangle hits her arm as people cross paths with one another, and she almost drops her own instrument.

Grimmacht... Grimmacht...

Michael.

Don't leave me alone...

It's futile, Federico.

...Good call.

The situation is out of control.

Mass hallucination... this is the third time I've seen something like this, but the situation here is much more serious than it was at Sonata Spire.

It's of a different nature.

The Genesis Horn has crumbled after the Witch King's demise, and Kargereich is about to collapse into reality.

It's not a simple hallucination either, but rather... They are unable to resist the onslaught of chaos, and their various, profound emotions are leaving them.

What you're hearing from them now is the only emotion they have left, and their most intense.

What are you doing, Arturia?

The Güldenesgesatz, the law, morality, exemplary aesthetics... Order cannot help them resist the all-pervasive chaos.

Everyone in the plaza will turn into an empty shell of themselves, one by one, as they lose their very last scrap of emotion.

We need to bring them back to their senses.

You alone are special here, Federico.

For most, how can there be will without emotion?

Only with emotions and emotions alone can people preserve their ego.

These people are 'blank' as you say, and you still plan to play their tunes?

No. This time, my performance is about me.

It's about my own emotions, and I'll share them with everyone here.

This sounds like another form of empathy.

Yet you've tried many times to destroy the foundations of Laterano's empathy. You turned your back on Laterano long ago.

Turned my back on Laterano? Maybe I didn't care... but never once have I left Laterano of my own will.

I just strongly disagreed with the order represented by their law.

As for empathy... Its limits are actually the starting point of my vision for the future.

I'll explain in more detail later, but for now, look at the countless people before us.

They used to cry with all their might, to smile with enthusiasm, and even now are trying their utmost to retain the very last bit of emotion they experienced in their lives, right up until the final moment... Even if they can no longer realize it themselves.

Be it the Witch King or Yulia, everyone is equally great and praiseworthy, but also equally incomplete and fragile. This is our ego, the very essence of our humanity.

We must become strong, but we must also leave room for our ineradicable fragility.

This is why we need a future where we can all stand side by side, sharing our joys and sorrows.

I am perceiving myself, Federico.

At this very moment, I can only give hope to others if I harbor hope myself, and likewise with love.

I want to use this tiny shred of ego to connect every sorrow and joy.

The sound of your strings... people are coming your way...

That young noble's face is showing an expression.

Emotional reflux, an involuntary reaction. A hollowed out soul needs time to re-accept everything.

Operation assessment: Arturia, your actions will help stabilize the situation. Executor Federico Giallo will assist you.

I will allow no one to interrupt you until you have finished playing.

After the briefest of pauses, Arturia grips her bow tightly again. The movement builds towards its climax, the scrubbed strings resounding in a rapid flutter like a butterfly's wings.

She manages a glance up at the sky, and sees a giant crack suspended above the twin spires—an eye of darkness open wide, but still the sunset surrounds it, yet to be completely eroded.

How beautiful the sunset is, like a blaze set aflame when the shackles are smashed open.

...That sound. The Sankta's performing.

The knot's moving again, I can sense Ebenholz! Ermengarde—!

On it, on it.

Threads fly into the clouds from the Lich's fluttering robes.

The wind traverses the sky again, and the frozen clouds resume their drifting.

A mildly intense vibration follows right after, like the slight turbulence when a train enters a station.

The passage is stable.

As long as you stay awake, they'll be out in no time.

Michael, wake up!

Grimmacht must have entrusted you with something. You need to recall what it was!

My... tuba...

Hold your instrument properly.

...Grimmacht?

Is this... my memory? The strings are showing me...

The tuba's heavy, and you're tired. Correct?

Then say it. You're but a child. There's no need to hide what's in your heart.

You're afraid? That's normal.

Adults fear me, as do nobles older than yourself. Even the most ferocious casters fear me. They believe my sword will pierce through their chests the moment it crosses my mind to.

...Yet you're unafraid? And you want to be my Voice?

Have you really thought this through? No, that doesn't matter. You're just a child, after all, who knew nothing when your kin sent you here.

Don't... don't cling to my leg. I can't wield my sword if you're like this. Fine, I'll just assume you're tired.