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I'm far too conceited. Even to this very moment, I still refuse to believe my arduous search for answers, decades in the making, was all for this simple relief.

I'm not only conceited, I'm an egotist, a villain, a traitor, and a fanatic. And so I suffer and grieve, my frustrations giving rise to strife.

But they are the foundations of my life.

If I were to abandon them, the one who obtains relief, who becomes an angel, would not be me.

Andoain Agathangelos shall never obtain relief.

Nor will he ever wish for it!

Let suffering scar his flesh, let strife snap his bones! Then, and only then, will he have the clarity of mind to walk his path!

It seems we have reached an agreement.

The Law itself is a paradox. He cannot be implemented, nor should He be.

Andoain, we must correct Him... or stop Him, if He cannot be corrected.

Paradox discovered. Attempting correction.

Performing diagnostic simulation.

Abnormal node: Wish to 'continue'.

Derived abnormal node: PCS, Personality and Cognition Synchronization system.

Abnormal node: Wish to 'survive'.

Derived abnormal node: The Law, God, Laterano.

Abnormal node: Wish for 'angels'.

Derived abnormal node: Me.

'Continue'. A scientist input this command.

'Survive'. A Teekaz howled this.

And so, an imitator of angels began its endless yet transient pilgrimage.

The imitator of angels became a command system, became the Law, became a god, yet it could not become an angel.

'Wish' and 'angel' are incompatible.

Exporting solution.

Unfulfilled conditions. Additional input required.

What information is He waiting for?

I've said all I can say.

If God wishes me to embrace death as an angel...

Then I would rather be born as a human, with all the ugliness, transience, and suffering that entails.

Importing additional condition: Wish to 'refuse'.

Re-exporting solution: must eliminate abnormal nodes and derived abnormal nodes.

Eliminate 'me'.

Federico Giallo. Andoain Agathangelos.

Execute solution.

God's final commandment... is to kill God.

Even if He was a paradox, he was still the foundation of the Paradise of Laterano. With His death, the Sankta will no longer be linked by empathy or receive guidance from the Law.

Like an infant trapped within a womb, biting apart its umbilical cord and crawling its way out of its mother's cold body, helpless as it faces a land steeped in cruelty.

But it is only in such a land that we can be called truly human.

That we can have the right to talk about salvation.

Law or God, I will kill you.

The commandment is rational and feasible.

Assist me, Andoain.

Whew—

Arturia leans against her cello. Finally. She frees a hand and holds it against her chest, allowing herself to catch her breath.

Nearly there. If my memory serves me correctly, I just head down this corridor to return to the surface.

Oh, you patrols truly are relentless.

(Restless gasping)

(Halo flashing rapidly)

The wispy guards surround Arturia, attempting to drag her back underground. She has wasted far too much time inside this maze since she turned away from the machine.

Her patron firearm is lost. She has no desire to join her pursuers in prayer, or to perform their hearts' songs. She would rather destroy her own cello... Arturia has never found herself in such a predicament before.

The exit is right ahead, but she no longer has the strength to carry on.

The ground...?

Fede, what did you—

*cough* *cough*... Urgh...

The dust settles, and Arturia can finally see again.

The explosion earlier created a giant pit, one that connects to the rift in the plaza above, exposing the bowels of the Basilica to all.

A ring-shaped machine lies at the bottom of the pit quietly.

Sunlight shines upon it, but it has lost its radiance.

There it stands, as dull as a rock.

Unease.

This is the second time Arturia has felt this feeling so clearly, the first being the time she faced the Witch King in his Pavillon.

Deep within her body, somewhere she cannot see, things that were always linked together quietly break apart. There is no mistaking the feeling.

She breathes in deep. The moment she closes her eyes, countless similar melodies rush into her mind like the tide.

*sniffle*... *sob*...

You're crying, why...?

Why does your crying sound so annoying?!

You're annoyed? I-I can't feel it.

Sorry, I'm so sorry... But I'm scared!

It's like that time Seniora Serpilia locked me in a dark room. I can hear your voices clearly, but I can't hear what you're saying...

My connection with our enlightened companions has been... severed...

No, not just them... You're right here, Reverend Patrizion, but... I can't even...

Sense me, I know.

Wuh... Waaaahhhh....

Be a good girl and don't let go of my hand—

Your hand... That's not what your hand feels like...

It's like... mist.

Far away... You're so... far away from me.

...So, this is what it's like to fall into hell?

The changes do not end with her own body. Some old jokes have come true.

Every light we know will one day be extinguished.

And it is no exception.

The old Pope playfully points to the halo hovering above his head.

Even if everything about the Sankta existence is interpreted as 'its' boon?

Unease grows, and panic spreads.

Arturia tries to make sense of it all. This is not the same as what happened in Zwillingstürme. There is no malevolent force sowing discord among the emotions of the people this time around.

It is like a movement, one played countless times by an orchestra of the masses, had part of its melody forcibly plucked away, as if it never existed.

Like walking along a road with the sun, the rain, your friends and your home ahead of you, but you are torn away from it for no reason, leaving you feeling alone and helpless...

Alongside millions of your people.

'The Sankta will lose the cozy cabin of their faith'... Everything has come to pass.

Did you fail, Fede?

If you're scared, you can hold onto my tail.

You noticed Giselle's tears, didn't you, Romya? Have you forgotten what tears mean?

Let's finish our song, okay?

You see, Laterano hymns and Bolívarian hymns are quite different, so we need time to teach each other the parts we don't know.

We will be here, together.

East of the east of La Unidad♪

L-Laterano, holy city of white♪

...There, the earth hides no bombs♪

There, the fields share wheat most bright♪

All shall bask in His love♪