act34side

'Logic and unreason.'

'The differences in strength and the shackles of form.'

'The limitations of ethics and the future of humanity.'

'A manufactured truth and the beautiful cycle...'

You deceived your followers.;It was all a scam from the get-go?

(The nuclei within its skull spin)

A scam? No.

Primal worship originates from the survival instinct.

Every thread of thought by every 'cultist' ultimately leads to a single question: How to survive better.

Faith? Tenets? No, only a desire for survival.

You struggle for survival too, do you not?

When you preached survival in Ægir...

Did you ever tell them <i>whose</i> survival you were talking about?

The survival of life itself.

Just as the survival of civilization inevitably involves the destruction of many more, the survival of life inevitably involves the end of many.

Many species have gone extinct due to the activity of the offspring, while they gathered nutrition for the Feranmut. I once recorded the number, only to forget it.

For the moment Ishar-mla awakened, it had become a meaningless, insignificant number.

The birth cries of the newborn, interwoven with the wailing of the dying...

Songs brought Silence.

You knew the consequences of awakening the Firstborn from the very beginning. A disaster for the entire ocean, for countless species. But you show no remorse whatsoever.

You even gave up on recording the number of sacrifices. Was it because you'd gone numb after taking so many lives?

But numbness is no excuse for your crimes, Mártus.

The consul steps forward. Her ceremonial sword is elegant, but the light reflecting off it is chilling, cutting off the sightline of the Seaborn gazing towards you.

Clementia.;Madame Consul.

The Sophontheatrum. You designed the building that inspired so many of our people... myself included.

But you stand here now, calmly explaining how you pushed Ægir into the abyss.

I've seen images of you. A gentle, meditative observer who has the habit of constantly pushing his large glasses back up his nose.

Look at you now. Even the richest of thoughts can only be expressed by the simplistic movements of your cells.

You still have your glasses on your neck. Is it to reminisce about old friends whom you have no right to reminisce, or to mock the dead whom you have no right to mock?

If you are Mártus the Ægir, then I hereby pass judgment upon the fallen.

If you are merely Seaborn, then we'll skip the formalities.

The organelles surrounding the Seaborn expand and parry Clementia's attack. The ceremonial sword cuts into the shadow of the coral-shaped terminal.

Mm—Gurgle.

You cut off my control of the terminal?

(Breathes scorching fire)

(Howls furiously)

Emergency transmission. This is the 10th attempt—

The Seaborn have taken over the beacon tower. We cannot stop the conversion! But someone has activated the ejection protocol for that unit—good job, whoever you are!

Bio-signatures keep soaring in number. The nests are becoming one—

Incoming Seaborn tide! Scope is the entire continental shelf! Repeat, incoming Seaborn tide! Scope is the entire continental shelf!

Emergency transmission. This is the 11th attempt—

This is Consul Clementia. Citizens of Milliarium, heed me!

Once the city unit containing the beacon tower has been fully ejected, the rest of the city shall break through the Seaborn encirclement and move towards dry land!

Reactivate the linkage mechanism in the city's framework and perform a structural reorganization. Force fields at full power! We'll stop the Seaborn tide from setting a single tentacle onto land!

Legions VIII and X, along with the Sea Patrol: send all operational warships out in turn to escort the city!

May Ægir and our forefathers be with you.

You were looking for an opportunity this whole time... consul of Ægir.

You're tough.

We... too. Once.

Is it Ægir or the Seaborn who are trying to open up a Waterway? The readings are off the charts. The endless Seaborn tide is approaching us at the very moment...

This is beyond the lighthouse's computational capacity!

Su Santidad?

I hear you.

Look in front of you.

Those deep colors between the sea and sky are a tide of Seaborn.

The wind grows quiet... There is no point in trying to estimate their numbers and scope now.

Experience is better than data. I've seen the ocean like this before.

Do you mean the... the Profound Silence?

Leave the rest to the Penal Battalion and the Inquisitors.

R-Report!

Two divisions are ready for action. Ægirian drone matrices are helping us fine-tune our defenses.

Ægir...

Sir... the ocean... Something's rising from it.

Is that... an Ægirian city?

Having sailed for thousands of miles, Milliarium rises to the surface of the ocean after casting out its heart.

Every inch of it is being reformed, supported by its framework. An invisible forcefield extends towards the bottom of the sea and the highest reaches of the sky, forming a structure like a great wall.

The structure breaks the surface of the ocean, creating a giant wave a hundred meters tall. However, on the other side of the city, the real tide has arrived—

It is a living wave. Seaborn of various forms have fused with the ocean. The children of the sea are the sea itself; they have even changed the color of the water.

The city from the depths and the roiling tide stretch out at the same time, colliding, embracing, and ripping at each others' throats.

Nature never tires, yet civilization will not stop its footsteps.

All is quiet. No wind dares tell of what it sees, here and now.

*cough*—

Phew. That woman nearly got me—

C-Cassia? I've been looking for you forever! Where'd you run off to earlier?

Lucilla?

What are you doing here, child?

The city unit framework needs servicing; it's a standard combat duty. But... look at the beacon tower... What happened inside the city?

The Seaborn have broken into Milliarium. That tower has become one of their nests.

Leave this to me. You should get out of here, quick.

It's too risky. I'll stay here with you.

No need to—Urgh.

Are you hurt?!

Yes.

It must have been the Seaborn as you came over—

Wait, no, a scratch like this couldn't be left by a Seaborn...

Did someone attack you?

*cough*!

Wait, why are you pulling out the safety valve?

Hey, don't push it! It'll cut off the ground level self-diagnostic system, and the city framework will stop working—

No, you know that way better than I do...

You've been trying to do this all along, Cassia? Are you... with the Church of the Deep?

When the Sea Patrol investigated Tullia, you deliberately turned them against her? Don't tell me it was you who made her disappear—

What's this you've put on my neck?

Longbeard combtooth grass. Something made by a friend in charge of raising road-side coral. Don't move. You'll die if its bristles pierce your skin. Quite painfully, if I may add.

Now—*cough*—Leave this place, child. Once it senses you've gone far enough, it'll fall off by itself.

You want to leave, don't you?

To be honest, before we became coworkers, I happened to see your assessment at the Institute of Development Planning.

You care so much about that data scientist because you've never forgotten that evacuation of Milliarium, have you?

You watched as the distant lights of the volcanic power station went out, surrounded in endless darkness, with only strange rumbles and rustling carried to you by the currents...

The ocean as it once was.