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This is His gift to the people He has guarded for thousands of years, His final blessing and salvation.

We drift, just as we drift between past and future.

We flicker, just as we flicker between reality and the void.

Angels know not beginnings or ends. Angels know not increase or decrease. Angels know not life or death.

In an existence where nothing exists, we can only exist in the form of angels.

So these are true angels?

Incomprehensible to the point where the Law cannot directly describe them, instead defining them by what they are not?

Immaterial to the point where taking the form of angels allows one to continue to exist after becoming Originium?

This is the existence the Law has chosen once everything returns to Originium?

Affirmative.

If this is the ultimate purpose of the Law, then as a saint and an executor, I should implement and enforce it.

Unless...

Unless the Law itself is a paradox.

I have one final question!

Explain to me how, if angels truly are as you say, without beginning or end, increase or decrease, life or death...

Then why do they—you—have such a strong desire to exist... to continue to exist?

As machines have inputs, so they have outputs.

The saints sought answers in the Law, and the Law granted them revelation.

The fleet asked the system for instructions, so the system issued commands.

The Lord, or rather, PCS, has never been as silent as it is now.

You are an artificial system, so you require people to operate you. This is true for both a 'command system' and the Law worshiped by the Holy City.

The ultimate purpose you were given was to break humanity free from their shackles and return their angelic nature.

However, this purpose, does it stem from people, or from angels?

Why would the angels you described desire this? Their actions do not have purpose, assuming they can even perform actions other than 'drift' and 'flicker'.

But if this purpose comes from people, how will you turn them into angels?

Surely everything you have done was more than just—

A wish?

...A wish.

Nurturer, I shall now grant you salvation.

Guide your people to angelification. Guide yourself.

Be free from suffering, grief, frustration, and strife. You will obtain tranquility, the tranquility of emptiness, as shall those you have helped and harmed alike.

You need not live as an egotist, a villain, a traitor, or a fanatic. Nor do you need to die as one.

Andoain feels more tired than he has ever been before, as if an entire lifetime's worth of burdens have been pressed down onto his back at once.

The arborbeast was right. He really is like that Sarkaz drunkard, acutely aware this is the last chance he has.

If he wanted relief, this is the only way.

'Relief'. He only needs to hear the word's crisp syllables to feel joy, to want to fall to the ground and weep until he has spent all his strength, then fall further into a deep slumber.

But he uses that strength to instead open his clouded eyes.

I don't know what kind of answer His Holiness gave you, nor do I know what Mostima, Fiammetta, Lemuen or her little sister are thinking right now aboveground.

I don't know where Patia and our former fellows are headed, nor do I know whose bosom the children I tended in the Shrine of Nurtury have clutched.

I don't know if they want this salvation, this relief.

But if what you really care about is my answer as a 'suitable candidate'...

Then my answer is no.

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.