rogue_2

The few defensive measures left behind in the asylum are obviously no match for Ulpianus. After brushing aside a trap or two and clearing out some Seaborn disguised as ordinary objects, he now finds himself standing inside Cicero's laboratory.

For a few days, Ulpianus has followed the tracks of Cicero, a Church of the Deep bishop. While the bishop had no chance of surpassing Ulpianus in terms of strength or skill, he did seem to have a knack for prolonging his life. Leaving behind a severed limb, he fled from Ulpianus's grasp. Ordinarily, the experienced Hunter would've given chase to finish off his wounded prey. However, one particular thought gave him pause:

Generally speaking, the Bishops of the Deep tend to operate around Iberian settlements, often mingling with the villagers to spread their faith. However, this place was remote and barren. Even when the bishop was attacked, nobody came to his aid — no villagers, not even Sea Terrors. Truly an unprecedented occurrence.

Unless—

To assuage his doubts, Ulpianus decided to set aside the hunt for Cicero, instead searching the surrounding area to see if he could find any leads. After a few days, he discovered the asylum that housed Cicero's laboratory.

Everything in the cave laboratory is neat and orderly, with all the documents and letters categorized and carefully stored in dry bookshelves.

Ulpianus has no interest in Cicero's research. He has seen far too many experiments that blaspheme humanity and trample across ethical lines. What he cares about more is the correspondence between Cicero and the other Church of the Deep bishops.

Normally, when a Church of the Deep bishop appears in Seaborn form, their research and letters will have been completely destroyed by their warped carcass.

But not this time. Cicero obviously did not expect to be raided by an Abyssal Hunter. Perhaps he chose to flee in a completely different direction in an attempt to prevent Ulpianus from discovering his trove of knowledge.

Out of caution, he glances across the catalogue of research topics. After confirming that none of the now-halted research topics would have any sort of influence on Ægir, he turns his attention towards the personal notes and letters.

Upon the envelopes appear some names that make his heart skip a beat.

They were people scattered among Ægir's technical colleges, academies, and art world. Some were designated as the Bishops of the Deep many years ago.

Most of them still maintain considerable status and influence in Ægir to this day. Just from seeing these names, one can already surmise the extent of the damage the cult has inflicted upon the whole of Ægir society.

That was only the beginning.

Information such as the close conversations that took place following the hunt of Ishar'mla, the bishops' surveillance of the surviving Abyssal Hunters, and the trajectory of Ægir's movements over time reveal themselves to Ulpianus through the letters. As time passed, Ishar'mla's biological existence remained inside the body of the Hunter who slew Him, and the bishops began to take a greater interest in this particular Hunter's whereabouts, as well as the movements of the other Leviathans. As of the more recently dated letters, the bishops seem to have reached a conclusion:

They wish to send the Hunter who slew Ishar'mla back to the ocean. Only then can Ishar'mla awaken once more, as long as He can meet the one who caused the Profound Silence—

As for his personal opinion, Cicero seemed to believe that the Profound Silence would speed up the amalgamation of humanity and Seaborn, and that the technology to transform Abyssal Hunters may become mainstream in Ægir. When a generation of human beings accepts the gifts in order to fight against the Seaborn, they will then be able to give birth to the perfect humans he envisions. Without a doubt, he sought to advance this plan despite the disagreement of the other bishops.

The words written on the letters are like a trawling net, attempting to entangle and kill the Abyssal Hunters and Ægir within it. But even to the end, Ulpianus is unable to piece together the complete picture of the conspiracy. He has run out of time.

As he reaches out towards an unread letter, seawater suddenly rushes into the laboratory, the torrent consuming all of Cicero's research. Then, the Sea Terrors follow.

The Sea Terrors that seemingly swarm the entire asylum slither, tear, and bite, trying to free their kin from within Ulpianus' body.

Ulpianus raises the anchor.

He has already heard about the incident at Sal Viento. Even now, the Church of the Deep still plans on designing a hunter who can capture him?

As long as he knows, as long as he still lives.

He will not allow that to happen.

All living things have the instinct to grow, survive, reproduce, and migrate, constantly walking down the path of evolution in order to adapt to their environment.

But why do there exist creatures that pursue self-optimization with an uncanny persistence far surpassing what can be considered individual survival instinct, as if pulled along by some higher purpose? Ægir will not give me an answer.

I knocked on the doors of the Church of the Deep, if only to seek their resources and their perspectives. But even after extensive research, accumulating fame, and becoming a respected bishop, I only ever got answers like 'everything is touched by God's hand,' which did not satisfy me.

I once again took up my position as a biologist and tried to survey all the lifeforms on this continent, and though I dare not say my search was exhaustive, I ultimately could not find an answer despite observing countless organisms. Only the creatures of the ocean continue to defy every existing theory or hypothesis.

In the end, I must admit that 'God' does in fact exist. Not a 'God' like Ishar'mla, nor a metaphysical deity from peoples' imaginations. There must be some noble will that transformed Them and gave Them a higher calling, driving Them to become far more efficient and orderly than humans and further explore the possibilities of life, until They finally become 'God.'

Even when I was young, my colleagues and I had been astounded by the social structure of the bee colonies we observed on land, and now we are on the cusp of having a blueprint for living organisms that is far more logical and ideal than even a bee colony. In the never-ending cycle of the distribution and circulation of resources, all conflict and hatred must be ended through the expurgation of the soil in which they take root.

There is no need to elucidate 'God's' true form, nor to speculate on the meaning of 'God.' I will find 'God's' laboratory, usurp 'God's' olive branch, and bring fruit to mankind even if it is not meant to be supped upon by mankind. And this, indubitably, is the right granted to every human researcher who attempts to overcome this dilemma.

The elder shakes his head, placing the thing that had slipped from the girl's hand — the oath he exchanged with that Herald — into the box.

Though the girl had accompanied him and studied under him for several years, the old man had always been hesitant to give her that which she sought, precisely because of what is now happening.

Disturbing patterns begin to blossom one by one, silently clawing their way through the gravel.

Her very existence seems to tear apart her surroundings, plants and flowers wilting around her, sapped of their vitality.

The life of a Sea Terror has always played a harmonious role within the Cycle of nature's ecology; taking nutrients from it as needed, and returning them to it as needed, all to create a more agreeable environment for its kin. But her life does not. Contradictory needs torment her and everything around her.

Now, the power she once wished for flows through her, but she cannot envision herself holding onto the things she finds beautiful in life. Even the wondrous singing voice passed down to her through her mother's blood is drowned out by the calls of we many.

Pain. Pain is all that is trying to tear her body apart, roaring out around her with an inaudible remorse.

This pain stems only from her resistance, her unwillingness, her incompleteness—

She cannot accept herself. She does not accept the calls issued to her by we many, but she also cannot accept the humans who slew her parents.

Always losing things. Always having things taken away. Why must it always be her? Why... must she give her own lifeforce to we many, or to the humans, just to preserve their living space?

She rejects all of it, but after what seems like an eternity, she appears to finally exhaust her ability to resist.

A bouquet of beautiful yet empty flowers blooms along the gravel, hesitating, withering.

It is currently eight in the morning. The sky is completely dim, and torrential rain pounds ceaselessly upon the ground, but the people continue to walk forward mechanically and numbly, seemingly paying no heed to the wrath from the heavens. Compared to the hope of survival and the fear of death, a little stroll through the rain is hardly a concern. They are already far more fortunate than most. While their human compatriots scattered through the wilderness are slaughtered by the Seaborn, they will quickly make their way into a city that appears impregnable.

Kal'tsit rarely lets her emotions show, but as she stands on the high walls looking over the procession of refugees stretching out to the horizon, the frown on her brow does not relent.

With Ishar'mla having gone completely rampant, the Profound Silence first swallowed the coastlines before all sound in Terra completely disappeared. The Seaborn and Sea Terrors began to assemble into packs and marched upon the land, Ægir trapped beneath the waves without any communication. The armies of the various countries disintegrated, and all of Terra was plunged into chaos.

So far, all attempts at solidarity have proven useless. Even the combined forces of Kazimierz's Knight Orders and Leithanien's Gesatzswächters were unable to withstand the Seaborn tides for even a single day. By sacrificing their lives, the Emperor's Blades were able to hold the national defense line, but this only bought enough time for mankind's retreat. A few months later, the Seaborn adapted to the empire's traits and penetrated through the troublesome barrier, and humanity suddenly found themselves with no weapons they could rely on. Columbia's cutting-edge technology joined with Sami's ancient Arts to try to open up more avenues of retreat, while Great Yan and the remnants of the various countries' armies attempted to consolidate into mankind's final bastion. The soldiers are all united, manning the stronghold with a determination beyond death. For each extra day they stand, countless more lives can be saved. Until the last flag falls, until the last immovable Tianshi of Great Yan watches the distant ranks of civilians and meets his death in a brief yet near-eternal grief.

From the day the Profound Silence once again befell humanity, Kal'tsit has practically foreseen the demise of humanity. But the Doctor's miraculous survival as well as her sense of responsibility to protect humanity still drove her to find a way to build a city that can allow the human species to live on.

She begged and pleaded with a number of Feranmuts, reaching agreements with several Beast Aristocrats. She managed to recover several pieces of ancient human technology needed to finally erect this spectacle.

Humanity's final bastion.

These technologies, the way they were put together, the way they were applied for creation rather than destruction — each one of these topics is itself worthy of an entire book. These things were originally the hope of humanity to break away from its limitations; now, they have become the pen and ink by which humanity has drawn its own prison. What worries her even more is that despite all this, the city is still unable to accommodate all the survivors.

In other words, when the city has gone past its capacity, she must slam its gates shut.

In other words, a considerable portion of people will be made to face the despair hidden behind hope. And those who happened to survive can only witness this tragedy, and accept it.

This is a decision that cannot be stayed by kindness, compassion, or zealotry. Amiya has already cried over this dilemma numerous times. She must be the one to steel her heart, make the impossible decision, and deal with its fallout. There may well be unrest in the city once she does so.

Simply because she is the highest authority in charge of Rhodes Island.

Kal'tsit knows that this is too cruel, but in the face of hell itself, even she has no tricks left up her sleeves.

If this situation were as simple as sacrificing herself for a greater cause, then Kal'tsit would not mind giving up her near-eternal life.

But what about sacrificing herself for an elusive, ephemeral hope for the species' survival?

Every theory, every idea... She has already tried her utmost to put them into practice.

There is only so much Rhodes Island can do.

Kal'tsit gazes into the distance. The heavy rain pours down, but no sound reaches her ears. Beads of water continue to hammer against her skin, as if trying to wash her away. She lets out a sigh, and gestures for the Doctor beside her to return and seek shelter from the rain.

What Kal'tsit does not know is that in Iberia's Royal Court, thousands of miles away...

Ishar'mla is currently leaping across space, 'observing' the person at her side.

Of what little humanity remains inside her, only this silhouette seems to linger.

Thus, she continues to will her swarm forward, just to reach the Doctor as quickly as possible.

Skadi never could've imagined that the bit of comfort she found in her personal relationships would lead to the destruction of an entire species.

Until all of humanity is reduced to one single entity, an individual known as the Doctor.

The Last Knight falls before Ishar'mla, the Silence has descended once more, and the Seaborn eagerly march upon the land.

Mizuki uses his tentacles to push the Sea Terrors aside, trying to protect the Doctor from harm.

Now that the Leviathan has awakened and the waves claw at the clouds, to leave the Doctor stranded on a little island in the ocean is to leave them for dead.

To ensure the Doctor may survive, Mizuki carries them on his back and swims back towards land.

Mizuki may have been able to deal with a few Sea Terrors, but when the Seaborn block his way, when facing the interrogation of the entirety of we many, Mizuki cannot help but feel the immense pressure weighing on him.

How can one individual in a collective rebel against the will of the whole?

Ishar'mla's pheromones are delivered directly to his brain.

It is His wish for Mizuki to leave this human behind.

Absolutely not.

The Doctor must return to land alive.

Mizuki has never cared about the fate of mankind, but he does care about the Doctor. And he knows that they would not wish to witness humanity's demise.

So he rejects the Leviathan, rejects we many, and returns the Doctor back to land.

He crosses the blockade established by his kin, and places the Doctor upon the shore. With a smile, he tells them to report back to their companions, while he fends off the Seaborn's march.

'They will believe me, because I am also Seaborn.' Mizuki says this to the Doctor.

Thankfully, they believe these words and leave.

Now, Mizuki will finally be able to truly buy some time for the Doctor, for Rhodes Island, and for humanity.

Mizuki exhales, and adjusts his pheromone expression.

In an instant, the Seaborn fall into confusion, unable to comprehend why their own kin was displaying hostility towards we many.

After a period of confusion, we many decides to prioritize the removal of the hostile individual.

Instantly, the Seaborn change their direction and rush towards Mizuki as he swims out to the open sea.

Across an extremely long span of time, Mizuki's hostility-laced pheromones continue to surface clearly within the collective consciousness of we many.

Like a drop of blood splashing upon a sheet of white paper, they do not dissipate for a long, long time.

But in the end, he too dissipates.

Mizuki's consciousness dissipates into the ocean.

No longer can he maintain his human form.

His body begins to distend.

A Seaborn with a jellyfish-like body appears within the water.

His organs can still maintain the basic functionalities of life, but that too will not last for long.

Attracted by the scent of blood, a number of Sea Terrors and Seaborn approach, circling around him.

They are awaiting the complete death of their kin. Only then will they partake of his flesh and blood, returning their kin back to the Cycle of we many.

Mizuki gradually sinks into the water.

Whether from waiting too long, or because of Ishar'mla's call, the Seaborn and Sea Terrors congregating at the water's surface no longer seem obsessed with the life and death of this one individual.

He is left alone as he continues to sink.