act42side

A bell tolls.

Its unending peals echo across the entire city. It rings clear and steady, guiding stray souls towards it.

Legend has it that after their long and arduous journey, the saints built the tower and used the ringing of its bell to ward off the devils. Then there rose the Lateran City, its walls of purest white standing fast against the elements, while the bell in the tower fell silent for millennia.

Now it cries out once more, a scant two years since it last did so in response to a mixed-blood Sankta girl's song.

Urgh...

*sobs* Senior Nurturer...

A-Are you hurt?

Don't move. It was hard enough getting you bandaged up.

Patia?

You were pretty much half-dead by the time we got to the Shrine of Nurtury. We only had time to get you and these kids searching for you out of there.

Don't cry, Giselle, Romya... It was all just a nightmare. We're finally awake.

A nightmare? Wounds in nightmares don't follow you to real life.

Where are the other brothers and sisters?

Keeping watch nearby. Guess you finally got your memories back. What, want to hear them call you 'Guide' again?

Sorry, Patia.

It's clear you were just trying to wake a man who had lost his way again.

Why did you abandon the Pathfinders, Andoain?

We rested in the wilds for a bit after leaving Sanctilaminium Ambrosii. According to our original plan, we would've passed the Iberian border soon after, back to the land where you came from.

We even made contact with the Inquisition, but then you disappeared, all of a sudden.

That was when the dream began for me.

What do you mean?

It's just an idea, one without any evidence behind it.

It told me to turn away, to cast aside all my plans and return to Laterano.

So you're saying you never actually met that blind lady, and you didn't go back to Laterano with her for that baby's sake. Like you were... enticed by something?

<i>Nugae.</i> This is starting to sound like something a crackpot charlatan would say.

I know this is hard to understand. Even I don't fully get it—

I'll say. There's way too much 'hard to understand' stuff at play here.

You, and that shrine! You wanted to plop halos on everyone's heads and turn us all into freaks who can't even decide what emotions to feel!

Whatever, you managed to wake yourself up in the end. If you hadn't made such a ruckus by blowing up the Nativity, all of Laterano would probably still be dreaming.

With the boundary between the two sides so blurred, his deeds in the dream should be taken into full account during adjudication.

Executor Federico of the Notarial Hall. I have read your file, Andoain Agathangelos.

Aga... Is that your surname, Andoain?

After the chaos you caused during the first Summit of Nations, the Curia banished you from Laterano. Now you have returned in secret, and were involved in plotting the so-called 'Nativity' ceremony.

You are partially responsible for the current turmoil troubling the city, and must accept a joint investigation by the First, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Tribunals.

Hey, can't you see he's hurt real bad?

Besides, I'm sure you've got more important things to worry about right now!

You need a hand, executor? Get us into the city and we'll help you fight.

And you are...?

Th-That—

What is it, Nueda?

Look over there!

'Getting your patron firearm means you've moved on to a new stage of life, El!'

'Yeah! Come quick, sis, we're taking a photo in front of the statue.'

'I need to go to Lungmen... I need to get a proper explanation from Mostima.'

'Let's send Lemuel off on her next adventure with a bang!'

'The passage of time will bind people together, regardless of what they think about it.'

'As long as your lives intertwine at some point, you'll have nothing to worry about.'

'Safe travels home, Exusiai.'

She feels herself moving, but she cannot open her eyes.

Her back is cupped by something rough, while her mind sinks into a bottomless softness, where even the pain running throughout her body is dulled...

Her thoughts flow into a boundless ocean of faith.

She opens her eyes.

You've awakened, child.

You are gravely wounded. Only by accompanying me... will you stay lucid during the Transfiguration. While it was you... who caused its interruption... we will not abandon you.

Much as we once leaned on one another to traverse the devastation of Catastrophe.

The Transfiguration...?

Do you mean that dream?

I'm definitely awake, though... Why do you have a—*cough*—halo on your head? What kind of... monster... are you...?

All Sanktas have halos, child.

So that we could forget from whence we came, so that we could embrace our new lives, we named ourselves thusly. Thankfully, the passage of thousands of years has reshaped your appearances and ways of life.

Perhaps you can follow those tome-bound accounts and call me... 'Saint'.

Of course, my flesh and spirit both have long become one with the soil beneath Laterano's white walls.

What you see now is simply a snippet of code from His boundless program, a specter bearing countless memories.

As He sees it, the path of the Sankta began with the 'Saints', and so it should continue with the 'Saints', who should lead you beyond calamity and into the future.

Err... I don't get a word of what you're saying.

Where exactly are you taking me?

It is not a question of you and I, child... but of all Laterans.

Exusiai strains her neck backwards—

The monster that calls herself 'Saint' cradles Exusiai. Following close behind are Sankta, as well as haloed Liberi, Felines... and a host of creatures the likes of which she has never seen before.

It is a grand procession, meandering into the distance, its end far out of sight.

Exusiai can sense that these are no shambling husks. Their empathy has not faded. No, it is even stronger than it has ever been—

The faith of the countless masses has condensed into a vast sea. They follow behind the 'Saint', to a destination clear in their minds.

Not even <i>The Saints' Travels</i> wrote of a sight so bizarre.

Across millennia has He granted revelation to His chosen few, so that they may question, analyze and deduce, so that they may point Laterano in the right direction.

But it would prove far too slow a process this time.

He has never been this restless and uneasy. The master of all things has awoken. Threats nip at our heels. He must carry out His original duty.

...Because in this calculated future, there is no place for the Sankta.

There is only time for Him to directly impose what He has sensed on every one of us, to force the only solution He knows into being—

An even more cohesive community of 'Sankta'. Laterano as it should be.

Geh... Listening to all this makes my head feel like it's about to pop...

Heaven's sake, all this He Him His stuff... Who are you even talking about?

We are on our way to meet Him. The foundation of faith. The prime mover.

Even the deepest nightmare pales in comparison to cruel reality, child.

And with the collapse of the Transfiguration, I fear His actions have been noticed. There is not much time. Perhaps He and I... no, perhaps <i>we</i> still have time to ensure the future of the Sankta.

A march? A migration? Or perhaps a pilgrimage?

A grand procession of newborn 'Sanktas', traversing the streets of the Holy City with a vigor the Sankta have not had in centuries... How should we describe such a sight?

What do you see, Aurela?

There's halos on the... street lamps? And the trees, the dessert carts, the confessionals... Am I hallucinating, or is my scope fogged up?

That is no hallucination.

The Shrine of Nurtury still exists in reality. These iridescent projections originate from it.

Where the pilgrims go, the projections follow. Where they fall, even inorganic matter will sprout halos.

These projections are like a form of unliving 'executor', redefining 'Sankta' in the name of the Law all over.

All this time, we're told that whosoever stains the purity of the Sankta shall be mercilessly cast out by the Law, and now it turns out the purest Sankta He so favors are actually streetlights and trees?!

Hah... Haha! Can't believe I'm starting to think my Fall was a good thing.

If that gaggle wants to redefine 'Sankta' into something nobody can understand, I have half a mind to leave them be.

Don't worry, executor. There's still some of them I want to kill. I agreed to help you fight, and I'll have that fight no matter what.

It seems like they really do want to remodel the entire city.

If their aim is to remodel the city via those projections, then forming a mass of people is a highly inefficient method.

Yet they still choose to gather together, even after the dream's collapse... Perhaps spreading those projections around isn't the only way they have.

They must have an additional method in mind. In order to use it, they must reach a common endpoint.