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Strange noises can be heard in all directions.

They are distinct from the sounds of Originium crystal clusters piercing the ground. They are not omens to the explosion of Originium dust.

Captain, we can't hold out like this!

There's no end to them!

Better focus on the one right in front of you, then.

There's always going to be someone standing up front.

Raise the shield, fire the cannon. Repeat, ad infinitum.

Victoria possesses the strongest weapons in all of Terra. One shell can easily blow apart a Sarkaz's armor.

Just as quickly, two more Sarkaz rush forth at the same time to take the place. Then three.

The artillery fire unleashes its fury, but it cannot stem the surging tide.

*huff*... *pant*...

There's no end to the enemies.

She can hardly tell how many Sarkaz are on the ground in front of her; some standing, some lying.

The number of fallen Victorians is perhaps even greater.

She can hear Bagpipe's shouts and the whistling of her spear. From those she finds utmost solace, and that's enough to keep her fighting on.

A plume of firelight suddenly springs up not too far away.

Bagpipe...

What is it, Captain?

I think... I just saw Hill again.

Oh, Hill.

That same face again. The same face that appears in her nightmares every now and then, reminding her of how tragically her teammates died... The face of that traitor.

...He's dead.

Is he that one... lyin' over there? Seems to have been killed in action some time ago... Um, Captain, just now, did he...?

He moved.

He's... standing up again.

The man clad in the uniform of Wellington's forces staggers towards them.

He lifts the blade in his hands, and slashes at the Sarkaz in front of Horn.

The armor is too thick, and the recoil pushes his hands away. His arms contort strangely and he strikes a second time, then a third.

That familiar visage is getting closer and closer to them–

In the midst of the dead silent gray, only a tiny speck of purple dances.

It's her.

It's... Dublinn!

'I lay down now my soldier's honor here, so that in time the soil of Tara need no longer be soaked in carmine blood, and Draco cross no swords with Draco kin.'

'Be that unless a day comes, whereupon Red Dragon's flame should lead all those that fell, our fighters from the forge to be reborn.'

The third set of altars has been crushed!

Milady, our casters and flying soldiers are in position. We're about to approach the largest altar!

Our deceased compatriots have managed to protect us from the devils' vile pollution, but the destructive power of their witchcraft is unprecedented!

Allow me.

...Milady?

You're... going to destroy the altar yourself?

You, as my subjects, have done all you needed to do.

I, as your sovereign, ought to lead you forward.

How can I take this land as my own if I have never set foot upon it?

The Red Dragon's flame... shall fall upon the battlefield's front lines, just as it has for thousands of years.

––Our altar's being razed!

Stay in formation! Don't get scattered by those flames – keep casting!

They're nothing but a ragtag bunch of impotent outbloods–

I wouldn't be so sure about that.

We are nothing like those Victorians who have it easy.

Every Taran warrior has been forged within the shadows, tempered by pain and suffering.

We were once known as specters, for we knew most intimately the scent of death.

I won't let you–!

Trying to turn yourself into an Arts catalyst... to detonate the altar?

As you wish.

No...!

I'm... too late...

The spark of life gradually fades.

And in its place burns a deathly purple flame, leaping across the body of the slain Sarkaz warrior just as it dances in Eblana's eyes.

There is no Royal Court in death's domain.

Sarkaz, your people know death so well... only because you've fought enough wars.

See that?

Death itself stands with us! Our enemies are not inscrutable demons!

Drag those Sarkaz out from their pretentious Arts Circles and give them a taste of our crossbows and cannons!

Brigadier... I see a flame burning within your eyes.

I've waited far too long for this, just like countless other Taran warriors.

All of us grew up hearing the legends of the Empire's Death Knell, and enlisted with burning fervor in our hearts!

But over the last few decades, Wellington's administrator and the Duke have had their hands tied, and we've also been caught between the cracks of the other dukes' negotiation tables.

So many hot-blooded warriors were repressed because of their background, while many others perished in the Victorians' conspiracies.

I've endured for so many years, even to see myself turn into a scheming villain, all for the sake of witnessing a real war – not one ignited by the nobles' petty power-jockeying.

Only on such a battlefield can a warrior's death be glorious and meaningful.

If I am to die in this battle–

Then please bestow upon me your flames so that I may stand once more!

Until my remains are consumed fully by the fire, until our promised nation has been established, I shall never lay down my arms!

Excellent. Now then, come with me.

Do you see... that throne of deadwood?

That's the Sarkaz leader.

The Nachzehrer, Nezzsalem. He who calls himself the lord of war and death.

The Sarkaz Royal Court sure has a thing for these overblown titles.

Overblown...? Hardly.

He just happens to be ancient enough.

But, he is not the only living legend here.

Why of course!

Not far away, naval guns roar.

Ancient witchcraft is not the only force that can cause mountains to move.

Now, let us pit war against war... and death against death.

My Patriarch, the hunt has been cut short.

That Draco's flames have broken our formation.

...Draco.

Thousands of years ago, after the Sarkaz first lost their homeland, they once did battle against a red dragon on this very soil.

Those flames turned fields of Sarkaz into charred stone. They are still beside us, and beneath our feet.

We will slay her.

A red dragon will sate our appetite for a while.

She is not the one who drives this war.

The Nachzehrer King turns his gaze towards a certain part of the battlefield.

Behind the Red Dragon's smoke and flames, a huge shadow is rushing toward them at an unexpected speed.

A titan that casts a shadow across the land, able to shake mountains and rivers with but a single breath–

No longer is it a mere red dragon.

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