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But what about the places outside Laterano?

How many Rocamareas, how many lonely islands are there beyond the reach of the faith?

I cannot forget. I can see...

Andoain?

Is it Laterano, or...

No, no, there is no difference.

If, through the spiritual light, even the darkest stain can be cleansed; if, with a pious heart, even a savage monster can wade out of the mud...

Does that not mean there are no lonely islands beyond the reach of the faith?

Then why is it that all I've seen, everyone I've known, couldn't be saved? There must be something missing, something I overlooked...

A path.

Not a power, nor a place, but simply... a path, a path that leads from present torments to future salvation.

I-If you can show me the future, then you must know the path that leads to it. Tell me, show it to me...

The colossus of nothingness swims through gaps in space-time. It does not respond to Andoain.

The details of that strange yet oh-so-real sight begin to warp and flow with Its silence, and everything is smeared with a thick layer of clouds.

No, no...

I need to know more!

Can you hear what I'm saying, Andoain?

Put that thing down...

No, Lemuen. You don't know what I saw. I can't stop here!

Light bursts forth from Andoain's hand, like a plant rushing headlong into season, blooming as if about to wither.

He wants to part the clouds. He wants to see the revelation in all clarity. He wants to grasp onto the possibility.

From then on, once more did he set foot on a journey, bearing sin and evil upon his back. He guided foreign believers to Laterano, searching for an answer.

But he had no time to share what he saw, the truth that nearly shook him to his core.

He had walked so many paths, yet what was the one thing that remained constant?

He will always remember that year, the year the salt wind buried his home, and the emotions he bore in his heart as he left Rocamarea—

That was the starting point of his journey.

The sounds of the executor fighting the patrols do not stop. Andoain does not hold back as he casts his Arts, an endless font of light flowing from his body, winding its way into the depths of the maze.

Rather than a harsh light, it is gentle, perhaps even dim, like sunlight caressing a patch of autumn leaves, tracing the paths through which they fall.

He asks himself: 'Pathfinder, where does this path end?'

Until finally...

A glaring red light cuts off his Arts.

Once, he saw this alongside Yvangelista XI. Once, he found himself shaken...

The light is more icy, more piercing, more dangerous than before.

But Andoain does not close his eyes.

He knows that cold machine is his Lord, his god, the foundation of his faith.

Andoain faces God. He does not turn away.

He has sought and he has lost. He has pondered and he has doubted.

A sharp pain runs through him. It only takes a moment for his vision to go dark, but at the same time...

He hears God's answer.

(Gah—)

I can only provide first aid right now.

Andoain, unrestrained usage of luminescent Originium Arts has irreparably damaged your optic nerves.

I do not have the ability to heal these injuries. Once conditions allow for it, you need medical treatment.

Don't worry.

The path ahead has already revealed itself. We don't need eyes to see the way.

Follow the cursor running along the ground... This maze is too complex, and I cannot maintain my Arts for very long.

Let us go.

It's here.

Even if this is not the source of the calamity, what lies behind the door may be able to give us answers.

Follow me, Arturia.

Federico does not receive a response.

Ever since he caught up with her outside the Shrine of Nurtury, she has been exceedingly cooperative.

But now, the black-haired Sankta stands several steps behind him, gracefully drawing her bow across her cello's strings, with no intention of following him.

I really do intend to escape this time, Fede.

Andoain is hurt, and you're alone. There's no better opportunity than this, is there?

We have arrived at the door to the truth, Arturia. You know that your actions lack meaning.

Truth...? Meaning...?

Perhaps.

You really are the best of the executors, a walking law book, the first saint from outside the ranks of Pope... Truly worthy of the code name <i>Executor.</i>

Your rationality, your callousness, even the doubts you hold about these two traits of yours are all in service to the continuation of the Law.

If that is what the Holy City itself is, maybe you're the only one who can understand Him, haha.

As for you, Senior Andoain... You'll have to forgive me. It was never part of my plan, but when you were using your Arts earlier, I inadvertently touched upon the whispers of your heart.

It is complex, more complex than those of many people I know. But... not particularly unusual.

An overly inflexible melody leads them to all become adaptations or repetitions of the same tune. They say—

Your beginning and your end both lie in Laterano.

But you may find yourself alone at that point.

Ah, I beg your pardon, if you have taken offense.

(Nods) Arturia, this 'offense' you speak of, was it not a chance for me to perform a different sort of confession?

As for those last words of yours, I would rather treat them as a blessing. They stand as proof that I have reached the end.

Ooh, what an interesting answer.

Arturia turns away.

Not everyone is so obsessed with the truth and meaning behind Laterano.

At the very least, I'm not that interested.

I got a little peek at Him just now. Behind that door lies... a machine, right?

Yes.

In that case, the answer is bound to be boring.

Think back to our time in Zwillingstürme, Fede.

A calamity of similar scale struck the city, and in the chaos, the people lost their way or struggled and raged... At this very moment, there are millions of hearts in Laterano that demand appreciation.

If you turn away now, Arturia, it means you will have to face our enemies in this maze alone.

You need someone to lure them away, don't you?

Your patron firearm is lost. You have no way to defend yourself.

Perhaps I can find a way to turn them into my audience?

Don't worry about me, Fede. The Lateran <i>did</i> designate me a dangerous element.

Situation assessment: high-risk. Probability of survival: low. Executor's decision... You may leave.

Hah.

Time waits for nobody, you two. If you don't plan on leaving yourselves, no need to see me off.

Well then, farewell, my beloved little frater.

...All that pontificating just to say you want us to go help the Curia?

Full marks for listening comprehension.

No way.

Eh?

It's not our responsibility, Mostima.

Half of the people here were kicked out of Laterano by the Curia in the first place. Maybe it was because they Fell, or because of Oripathy...

As for the other half, they chose to leave Laterano, whether out of despair or doubt... not that it really matters.

Hah, then why come back now?

Because our halos started acting weird and breaking. Is that so hard to understand?

We're not a part of Laterano anymore. Alieni, even.

Doesn't matter if you chose to leave or if you were forced to, we all cut our connections with this city. But even after all these years, its changes still affect us, and they just never stop...

<i>Spurcissime!</i> Damn this stupid halo, damn it!

Sounds like there's no way to resolve all your complaints, even if we got every Notarial Hall executor out here.