act42side

All of these anomalies converge at this Shrine of Nurtury, which seems to have appeared out of nowhere, and the Nativity that so many have fixed their eyes on.

The missing mother you were investigating from the nomadic abbey was the pregnant arborbeast?

Yes.

By chance, my music crossed paths with the voice of her heart. I followed the trail here.

The singular item that brought me to my conclusion, of greater weight than any of the above, is how the Lateran people are seemingly oblivious to all of this.

Everything in life has been turned upside-down, but in this country, this city, life goes on, orderly as ever, as though things have always been so.

When six million Laterans continue to live as they always have, it's hard for us to convince ourselves that we're the only sane ones.

Self-doubt is an invaluable experience for a hardhead like you, isn't it?

Are you certain now?

Yes.

Mathematics, physics, geography, archaeology, astronomy... no theory or knowledge in science, theology, or philosophy can explain this.

A city with a population of six million, sharing the same hallucination.

But the present circumstances clearly run contrary to the order of Laterano and the foundation of the Law.

I have no doubt.

What a coincidence. Neither do I—

The sound of comfort bells echoes in the sky above the city. The cello's music draws upon a crack, like a hand reaching into the city. The next instant, both sounds are brought to an abrupt halt.

Silence.

The crowds that come and go in front of the square have never existed. Laterano has never been so quiet, even when the city is gazed upon from the highest roof of the Basilica.

Federico and Arturia are unsure if they blinked. A scene most incomprehensible plays out before their eyes—

The shrine continues to tower over the city, utterly out of place, but now dream-like colors begin to run across its surface.

Almost reaching the clouds, it spills its colors upon the pristine white buildings surrounding it.

Doors and windows open to the streets and alleys of Laterano, wherever the shrine's shadow touches, and creatures the likes of which have never been seen before emerge from them...

The scene is indescribable, but there is no doubt in Federico or Arturia that this is the real Laterano.

The next instant, the same word slips from their mouths.

Calamity.