act42side

Then you would've seen those gun-toting statues around the doors of every workshop... Hmm, come to think of it, the Notarial Hall's got a pair of cannons at theirs...

Wait, we don't have the right permissions to get those statues to fire—

That's something for Lemuen to solve.

Alright, get those statues knocked over and their guns pointed at the street!

Let's make up for all those gunshots we haven't heard over the years!

Mmph...

Holy smokes, your skin can stop bullets? Talk about thick-skinned!

Man, an entire volley didn't even scratch you...

Last time I felt like this, I was gaming with the boss. He went around back and cranked the difficulty up to max, couldn't clear it even after spending all night on it... Sure was discouraging!

Discouraging? Hardly. What I see is that your attitude and emotions are unaffected by the shattering of your halo.

Stand atop my shoulder, child.

Huh?

From the Tower of Revelations to the Notarial Hall in Pagus Michaelion, every lamp along the road has lit up...

Our newborn comrades are bringing light to this city, little by little.

Like our journey countless eons ago.

For the sake of true paradise, we crossed treacherous ravines and traversed barren wastes, searching for the slumbering silver mounts.

The only difference is that this time, we are certain He is there.

Salvation is our inevitable endpoint. Laterano shall never fall into night.

To move onwards is the only choice this city has now.

Yet you still wish to resist an entire procession, an entire race, an entire city by yourself?

Ah, I finally get to hear life's most relaxing sound. Now <i>this</i> is Laterano!

Say, if I really am on my own, then where'd that explosion come from?

I might not know who I'm fighting alongside, but I'll leave the monster-hunting to them. As for what I'm gonna do...

I'm gonna keep you company the whole way through!

What exactly is calamity? What exactly is the future?

And why exactly have you decided what you're doing is salvation, or the only choice?

Hmm, going to go help her?

No need. She's just dealing with a stubborn child.

Who's stopping the procession from advancing?

Mostima and Fiammetta have banded together with a group of fresh returnees. As for Andoain and Federico, we don't know where they or their group are.

Fia...

Once more must I stand against those I hold dear. Life is such a fickle thing.

Reverend Patrizion?

Just focus on your own work, Velliv.

I've managed to build a rapport with the enlightened creatures, and I've shown them our route. Our empathy's become stronger and more distinct, almost like it's not even empathy anymore...

If it is as the Matriarch—no, the Saint said, then this is what empathy should really be.

Which means what she showed us before was true. Calamity really does exist, and only through these extreme methods can Laterano be saved.

But right now...

The dream has collapsed, after all.

This chaos is only temporary. Continue onwards. We can no longer be stopped.

We must ensure the Saint reaches the Basilica. That way, she can continue with the Nativity after it was so rudely interrupted.

We still have time to make an even better Laterano... to take care of everything that stands in our way.

(Bzzzz—Bzzzzbzzzzz—)

What is it?

It's been a while, you old bastard.

You'd best stop right there. I have your throat in my sights.

A while indeed... Aurela.

In the deepest depths of the Basilica, at the end of the labyrinth, the final door opens wide for Federico and Andoain.

Behind the door, a cold machine, shaped like a ring, sits in the dead center of a platform. A strange red glare seeps out of its innards, sweeping across every inch of the room, accompanied by an audible buzzing.

Sure signs of 'calculation.'

Your Holiness?

Beneath the platform, the old man stands in silence.

He stands with his eyes shut tight, his robes covered in a thick layer of dust. There is no reaction as the pair approach, not the slightest hint of movement from him, as if he were an unseeing, unhearing rock.

But...

But his cracked, peeling lips still quiver. He mumbles to himself, yet cannot utter a single sound.

The sitting Pope, Yvangelista XI, stands silently before God.

Clear signs of aphasia and neurodegeneration. Preliminary judgment: His Holiness's body and mind are on the brink of collapse.

But the dream covering the city has crumbled. Why is he not awake?

Maybe he came here for the same reason we did.

He just hasn't found the answer he's looking for yet.

Interactive simulation 31: failed.

Prior emergency response mechanisms: expired.

Retrieving suitable list of names:

Yvangelista XI... expended.

Federico Giallo, Andoain Agathangelos... signal stable.

Judgment: able to assist in bringing the Transfiguration to completion.

'Suitable'?

Does it have something to do with your title of saint? But why me, then...?

Suitable candidates are particular individuals situated on the edge of the calculation model.

Required as samples for participation in interactive simulation, to verify model integrity.

His Holiness discussed my sainthood with me several times, but he never elaborated on the details.

Perhaps he was also unsure as to what the true duties of a saint are.

But if the Law sees us as 'suitable candidates', entrusting us with a specific duty... Then saint or not, we are now responsible for It.

Interactive simulation authorization: released.

Bottom-level data region authorization: released.

PCS authorization released. Permission to enter granted.

Federico Giallo. Andoain Agathangelos.

PCS will synchronize any necessary prerequisite information with you.

Now, approach.

The machine's voice echoes around the room. It is steady, unvarying, untarnished by emotion or gender, yet it still contains an indescribable sense of might and authority.

Now that I've come this far, do I still seek answers from Him?

Maybe He seeks answers from us. Since we are 'particular individuals'. His 'samples'.

Situation assessment: unknown. Risk assessment: unknown. Executor's decision... We proceed.

The two Sanktas walk side by side past Yvangelista XI, toward the cold machine, toward two shining ports.