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Dalton, Abner—everyone in the crew has been shaped by what happened five years ago. I brought them together on purpose... But you, you were the one exception.

When I approved the outline for the script, I had no idea it was written by you.

I simply felt, from the bottom of my heart, that the story of Lady Dupont—a woman trapped by her brother's lies and need for control, and tormented by the desires of three so-called suitors—was worth my vote of approval.

I knew she'd be a great protagonist for an amazing story, whether she lived or died.

I have never doubted my own vision.

Hey, say something! What are you getting all melodramatic for while I'm out here hauling rocks?!

So it turns out I just don't agree with...

What are you saying?

Ugh! Saget! So it turns out I just don't agree with the 'god's' methods.

There we are! I did it!

This place is about to collapse! I'll help you! Come on!

Wait, wait, wait, Miss Stone.

What now?

Greta helps hold Steven steady as they both come to a stop, and he looks to the side.

There is a wall, only half of it still standing. Faint remnants of vivid graffiti stand out harshly against the grimy, dim surroundings.

It is the giant promotional mural Tippi had painted for the crew, and by some stroke of luck, the title card remains unscathed amidst all the wind and flying debris—

<i>The Death of Lady Dupont</i>.

Steven raises a bloodstained arm and, with considerable effort, wipes away the first three words.

My God...

...It's beautiful.

Not even the most imaginative set designer in Wrankwood could have created a scene like this. Who's to say that ending a film shoot under the shadow of a Catastrophe isn't, in fact, the most fitting conclusion of all?

This isn't just a publicity stunt. I'm finding myself more and more impressed by Greta's resolve.

Alright, that's enough of that. Let's get back to the power deck. It's way too dangerous out here!

Hey, Melanie, leading lady, where are you going? Have you gone mad?!

Abner, you—all of you—never really believed this 'leading lady' could make a comeback with this film, did you?

You don't even think we'll finish filming it...

Honestly, I feel the same. I mean, we don't even have the ending figured out yet, and this whole plate is about to collapse.

But that doesn't mean you have to die for it, does it?

The Catastrophe is closing in.

The howling wind is nature's roar, its fury written across the face of the clouds.

But Melanie still walks forward to face it.

Who said I have a death wish?

Who says Lady Dupont has a death wish?

Who says Lady Dupont is meant to die under her brother's oppression, felled by the swords of the three Rockefellers, at the hands of those onlookers who sought to curse her, humiliate her, drive her out...

Must death be a symbol?

She should instead, on a night no one could have foreseen, walk straight into a storm just as wild and chaotic as this one, leaving that prison of a castle behind.

She shall not perish, because this storm is the chariot that will lead her to freedom!

You must have realized, Abner, that on my journey I've always regarded Marianne as my imaginary enemy, yes?

...Yeah.

But I know I'll never catch up to her.

She was a true genius—born to inhabit any role she was given. Even fate itself seemed to orchestrate one final Catastrophe just so she could exit this business in a blaze of brilliance.

And I'm nobody special.

An ordinary woman from a small town, who traveled to Wrankwood and worked her way up role by role, film by film, for over a decade. Gaining experience and recognition...

That's why I care so much about seniority, status, and etiquette. The aspects of film set culture that so many scoff at... Because that sort of recognition is the reward I deserve as an ordinary person.

This land is quite cruel to ordinary people, Abner.

Marianne's retirement gave me the chance to step into the spotlight, but it took only a single slip-up for me to lose everything I'd gained along the way.

My acting skills have fallen off a cliff. My reputation is a shambles. I've tried everything I could think of, but I just couldn't seem to get it back...

It's ridiculous! I've never wanted to admit this, but it's true... If Marianne hadn't retired, I'd never have caught up to her!

And right this very moment, this Catastrophe is destroying the entire plate, along with my last hope.

But couldn't you also say fate is smiling upon me?

At least I finally have the courage... to let go of my inhibitions, the courage to...

At least I finally mustered the courage to take this first leap.

Come to me, Lady Dupont. Come with Melanie Rutherford, and dance together with the Catastrophe...

Even if no one is filming us.

What are you still doing here, Abner?

Check your camera. You didn't turn it on, did you?

What, what do you mean?

What if I'd gotten swept away by the storm? What if your camera had accidentally captured my death, just like before?

The last thing I want is to belittle your work, and to force you to once again resent the tool of your trade.

You know, Abner, I've always thought you were dumb.

Hey, what would you know?

That footage you accidentally recorded back then at least stands as irrefutable evidence—ensuring that a girl named Laura wouldn't vanish from this land without a trace.

Although I couldn't say if that's enough meaning for it to meet your exacting standards.

Friedkin Kubrick! I <i>am</i> an idiot!

This 'dream-making machine' was only made in the first place because people wanted more eyes to see the land with.

How long can you hold on, Melanie?

...I hope I don't break this thing.

Let's finish filming!

Can you see them? Can you hear them... those still fighting to survive the Catastrophe?

Nothing ever truly comes from nothing—not even the most wondrous of art. And it is never death that suddenly awakens the lost or steels the timid.

They always had it in them.

So, answer my question, Tragodia.

Are you attempting to remind me that death would simply end this story, this performance? That there would be nary a trace left after the curtains fall? That I will have, objectively speaking, escaped any and all scrutiny and criticism of my work?

That I am a thin-skinned artist?

You really did find an interesting angle, Lucian.

Perhaps what you say is right, but how are you going to change the ending that has already been written?

That child, Tippi, really did adjust the path of the mobile plate, using only techniques she picked up from watching film reels.

But the shift in its trajectory was insufficient. Nearly half the plate remains on a collision course with the storm.

Lucian, you faced a Catastrophe when you were young. You should know that one of that scale will destroy everything on this plate.

Lucian gently strokes the crystal on his throat.

I haven't sung since releasing the inhibitor.

Singing. It is Blood Diamond's song.

The song that once lit up countless stages, before dying out amidst the darkness of that old castle. Today, it echoes once more. The sound passes through cracks in the ruins and the Catastrophe itself, ringing clearly in everyone's ears.

Singing with such total devotion?

....No.

It seems that dreams can also be used as barriers. This is the first time I've ever seen you use your Arts in reverse, Lucian.

Are you trying to protect everyone with the voice that once brought pain to yourself and disaster to others?

Are you trying to face this Catastrophe alone?

Alone? No. You're here with me.

Hold your scepter steady, Tragodia.

From the moment I rose from that river and walked back to your side... From the moment I returned to the Troupe and stood before you once again...

I have only ever had one motivation.

At the climax of every tragedy, there is always a fierce, cathartic battle—be it inside a palace, atop a tower... or beneath this ever-shifting sky.

Let us finish this drama, where the student kills the teacher!

Haha! My favorite student! My best actor! Everything that is headed for destruction shall serve as your backdrop. I am so glad you can enjoy this moment!

Even I can't help but be swept away in it! I've forgotten all other matters!

But you should know that killing a long-lived is meaningless.

You just told me that I found an interesting angle.

But it's not interesting, far from it.

You aren't a thin-skinned artist. You've just been left with no other choice.