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Huh? Why is the door shut?

Theresa, it's me! Are you in there?

Closure once taught me another way to open the door...

It's open!

Theresa—

What are you doing here, Amiya?

I heard some loud noises that sounded really close... I got a little scared.

We can go home soon.

You look tired...

Would you like to stay with me while I work?

Is this... a storybook?

I see. Well, as long as it's for you, I think I can take a short break. The Doctor and Dr. Kal'tsit won't mind.

Thank you, Theresa!

Alright, come sit over here. Once we finish this story, I'll take you to my homeland to play.

So, where did we leave off last time?

Stand back, Duq'arael.

You are covered in the blood of the mediocre.

Merely some heirs making ridiculous comments on the situation. Nobody should be making light of that pair of siblings' lives or deaths at this moment.

It is a grave disrespect.

Should you not be retreating and defending the inner city right now, Nezzsalem?

That has nothing to do with the war I am waiting for.

Theresis asked you to come and ensure her death?

Is this not you being contemptuous of those siblings yourself? The Regent would not stoop to such methods.

I am only here to witness the end of this war, and the beginning of another.

If the King of Sarkaz is struck down, I will bear the deathly pall of this moment. On behalf of the King, I will witness the victory I grasp from the abyss.

So, you still feel sorrow.

As do you.

The wreath of reeds slowly sinks into the riverbed. The gloomy mists have not dispersed for days.

Aefanyl... Are you still by her side?

For whom does the elegy ring out?

Why did you stop, Theresa? We just got to the important part of the story!

I thought I'd leave a little suspense for you, Amiya. Would you mind if I used another, more comfortable way to tell you this story?

But... Okay.

Watch out, Amiya.

A bubble! Huh? This is—

Black ripples continuously wash over the pure white room, as though Amiya has plunged into a pool filled with ink.

The black bubbles cut off all sound, just as they obscure Amiya's sight.

Beyond the bubbles, Theresa's figure becomes more and more indistinct.

Retreating further into the distance.

There...sa...?

Stay inside for now, Amiya. Sleep well.

You will be safe by my side.

*sigh*...

Theresa. Your Highness...

We will use our lives as proof of the future that the General pursues.

No, I was sighing about something else.

Honestly, there is no need to cover your face in front of me.

I still remember you from back when you accepted Yliš's orders before his chariot. Your heroism and valor in that battle moved me.

I remember most of your fellows as well.

You are all worthy of the title of 'brave warrior', in no way inferior to those heroes fighting in Kazdel this very moment.

We aren't covering our faces to hide our identities. We knew they would do nothing here.

We have cut off our horns, abandoned our names, even destroyed every inch of our skin that can be used to identify us. All so that after we use such wretched methods to kill the King of Sarkaz—

We will not be remembered by the Sarkaz. We can't be remembered.

Do it.

The rushing air engulfs the assassins' blades like a swamp, as they incessantly stab forwards.

Swoosh—

The trembling of the blades causes the air surrounding them to resonate. They press on. They continue to stab.

The ones holding the blades are buffeted and submerged by waves they cannot resist.

I remember your names.

I remember you. Luca.

You held back a Steam Knight on your own. You hid yourself within the steam to pull them out, and beheaded them before friend and foe.

The assassin's life fades away.

I remember you too. Liens.

Out of the countless Sarkaz with that name, you are the one who stood out most. After being taken captive by Spire Casters, you freed three of your compatriots from their camp and destroyed their Arts Circle.

Another death, and yet it cannot stop them from approaching Theresa.

And then you. Levin.

You took an arrow for Theresis, losing an arm in the process, but survived hell itself until you managed to retreat.

I do not wish for you all to die nameless and unknown.

At the very least... I will remember.

More and more corpses pile up by her side, while the room she has left to stand is whittled away, little by little.

She sighs, wiping the blood from her neck, accidentally smearing the dark red across her white dress.

We want to do something for the Sarkaz before we die. And so now we stand before you...

We have come to kill you. The King we once swore an oath of loyalty to.

We know your strength better than anyone. So, allow us damned traitors to escort you to hell.

The last thing Amiya remembers is sleeping inside the black bubble.

Theresa gently cradling the bubble wrapped around her.

Telling her a story that she has already heard many times before.

Within the Desert of Despair live many terrible shadows, forever chasing after the little puppet who is seeking for hope.

The black-cloaked shadows were the echoes of the oldest despair and sadness.

If they catch you, you'll never escape them.

Within the desert, the little puppet met the king, who was covered in pure gold and precious gems. The king told the little puppet that if he went back the way he came, he would be given riches beyond measure.

Despite the king pulling him back, the little puppet ignored the captivating gems, and pressed onwards.

But very soon—

The black-cloaked shadows caught him. They kept throwing themselves at him, over and over again, near endlessly...

'Bang, bang, bang'...

The puppet took out a long spear made of a needle and some threads, fighting the shadows, until finally, after knocking aside the shadows' sharp talons, he managed to escape.

He ran as fast as he could until he reached a large river of tears. There was neither boat nor weeds, so all the little puppet could do was swim across.

But as he soaked in the tears, he began to sink, until he touched the riverbed.

He had failed.

Was this how the story ended? Amiya could not believe.

Maybe Theresa read it wrongly?

She anxiously wished for Theresa to change the ending of the story.

Theresa...

...Yes?

Can we... save the little puppet?

You wish to save him?

I do. I... I really, really do.

All sound fades away.

The bubble obstructing Amiya's sight dissipates.

Theresa's figure becomes clearer and clearer—