rogue_4

Big Larry lets go and lets the hat slide down, hiding him completely.

The low, rumbling voice echoes once again in a dimension inside the hat and outside the room, only with a tinge of sorrow this time.

'Cesspool, cesspool...'

Ol' Curly and Lil' Mo join in the chorus: 'Cesspool! Cesspool! Cess-pool!'

Tin Man shakes his head, picks up the fallen TV, plugs it in, and turns the knob. The room is filled again with the sound of a comedy trio.

The brim of the hat is lifted slightly, turning towards the TV. Tin Man grabs it and puts it back on his head.

'Larry, Curly, and Mo,' Tin Man reads out the names that appear on screen.

The metal hot dog, donut, and cheeseburger turn towards him.

'I didn't think I'd be taking you back with me when I sat down by the furnace. Beyond the furnace is just another furnace. But a thought came to me when I shared the burgers and fries with you: I wanted to share everything bright and beautiful I see and touch with you.

'Compensation? No, I owe you nothing. But you deserve it.

'If the memories of the past have been burned away, why not live again as though it's your first time, and try to live differently?

'That's what I said back then. I waited a long time, but you three were the only ones who came out of the furnace,' laughs Tin Man. 'I don't know if you understood or not.'

'I did,' says Big Larry. Suddenly, there is a jingle from the TV, and the ancient new Columbians turn towards it. The three distinctive characters suddenly started playing music in the middle of a solemn court trial. One of them uses his cello like a bow to fire an arrow into the mouth of the court clerk.

'That one's you, Ol' Curly! You screwed up again!' Big Larry laughs gruffly.

'Shut up! I'm not that dumb!' Ol' Curly is so angry that his mustache curls up.

'You lose! Pay up!' Lil' Mo unabashedly threatens with his lasso.

Ol' Curly angrily takes out a stack of gold certificates from under the hat and passes a few to the other two revenants, before giving the rest to Tin Man.

'For the radio. Buy some cilantro-flavored chips for me with what's left... I know what you two are gonna say, and you can shut it! It's your loss that you don't understand the sophisticated flavor of cilantro on metal.'

Tin Man takes the gold certificates with a smile. 'I'll hold onto this for you. You can buy them on your own when I take you to the store in a few days.'

'The interest rate is half a gold certificate per day.' Ol' Curly turns back towards the screen. 'Yes, I finally understand how interest works. Doesn't matter if you hide it from me; you can learn everything on TV.'

'Sure. You still owe me two hundred in cleaning fees, though. And there's interest on that, too.'

'Cesspool,' interjects Big Larry without turning around.

With the furnace repairs complete, Nymph's Furnace Syndrome has eased. Now, she rarely sees ladders tossed from the sky or sheetmetal houses transforming into white marble halls. As Kazdel's development progresses steadily, the mundane tasks that come with it have replaced the fantasies once spun by the revenants for the Storytellers, stories that have stayed in the furnace.

Strange dreams still trouble her from time to time, though. She sees many familiar faces—Diαblo, Lich, the Wendigo knight, the twin kings that exist only in dreams—but they no longer take her on a never-ending journey through 'Kazdel'. Instead, they stand silently with their heads bowed, covered in Originium dust. There are other even stranger Sarkaz that Nymph has never seen, some with wings with no membranes, some with horns that reach into the sky. They gather at the ruins of a tall building, on what appears to be a snowy day. There seems to be fire burning in the ruins. They mutter an ancient Sarkaz language long forgotten, their raspy voices growing louder, the echoes beckoning by her ear. Nymph does not know the words, but she understands the meaning of the call: all stories will end, and the final conclusion shall arrive. At the end, a lone figure, clad in white and with a black crown over her head, appears amidst the dusty Sarkaz. They reach out to her longingly with their arms and claws, but stop in mid-air.

The call of the Sarkaz ceases. The figure utters, 'melting millions of lives, into nothing but memories.'

This is when Nymph always wakes up with a start. It is the middle of the night, and Kazdel slumbers. Amnannam smolders quietly in the Great Furnace, with only the occasional flash emanating from the nodes.

Nymph wonders if it is a symptom of Furnace Syndrome, and suspects that the embers of the revenants continue to burn in her heart. She even fears that she had told them so many stories that they have been able to take root in her mind.

'Will I ever get better?' Nymph asks in tears.

'Don't be ridiculous. If your brain could really house the revenants, that would only go to show how empty it was in the first place!—Or so says my master.' Fremont was busy and had Ermengarde deliver the reply on his behalf.

It is only when Rhodes Island once again stops at Kazdel that Nymph has the chance to seek treatment at the Medical Department, but even their doctors say, 'You're probably just tired. Have you thought about taking a trip somewhere to clear your mind?'

Nymph walks out of Medical, but cannot shake the prophetic dream from her mind. Her imagination wanders. Must all stories come to an end? What did the figure mean by 'melting millions of lives, into nothing but memories'? And the figure itself seems familiar to her, yet she cannot put a name to it. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and the name seems to come upon her lips—

'Nymph?' She hears someone calls her from behind.

'Are you okay?' Nymph turns around and finds the Cautus standing behind her, with the Doctor by her side.

'A-Amiya! Doctor! You're back?' Nymph is excited to see Amiya in Kazdel again.

'Yes, we were discussing further cooperation with Babel.' It is the Doctor who answers her, serious as always. 'Demand for construction materials continues to increase. The number of Sarkaz who have chosen to move to Kazdel far exceeds expectations, and medicine supply is—'

'More and more people are moving to Kazdel!' Amiya pulls the Doctor's sleeve. 'The plates that were so barebones the last time we were here have been built up so much that even you couldn't recognize them, Doctor.'

The Doctor does not argue, instead simply reaching up for an awkward head scratch over the hood.

'...It's easy to get lost in Kazdel these days.'

The Djall notices Amiya's grip on the Doctor's clothes tighten for a moment, but she soon relaxes.

'Well, make sure you stick close to me next time.'

Amiya says this with a smile. There is no hint of concern in her voice, only excitement.

Nymph drifts off again. The dreams that have troubled her once again float to the surface, but those silent revenants, those chilling calls, have both become distant. Nymph seems to see Amiya become a wandering cleric, a black-robed apprentice following behind her; she sees cerulean flames devouring ships amongst the stars, illuminating their opposing faces; she sees the two walking through halls of white marble, their debate echoing in the clouds; she sees the two building a bridge between the stars. Amiya raises her hand, and the darkness between the stars is illuminated by the lens in her hand...

In all of those moments, Amiya's figure is no longer alone.

The embers of the revenants are finally extinguished. Their murmurs become lost to the wind, and the only things echoing in her ears are the humming of Rhodes Island's machinery, and the sound of Amiya calling to her.

'...Nymph?'

'Are you really okay?'

Nymph comes back to her senses to see Amiya still standing before her, the Doctor still standing by her side.

'Furnace Syndrome again? I could help you deal with the memories, if you want.'

'No need for that, Amiya. Just getting lost in my fantasies, some wild delusions.'

The nightmares never troubled Nymph again.

Kazdel looks as if it hasn't suffered a Catastrophe in a long time. All sorts of buildings line the city's perimeter with paths interwoven between. What used to be transverse platforms are now loaded with containers in all shapes and sizes. A group of merchants discuss what sort of goods they're hoping to trade for in Kazdel—some are planning to order records from their labels, some want to see the hottest fashions from the biggest retailers, some are after a batch of 'Sarkaz Spells Explained,' and some want to purchase high-quality crops to ship down south. Everyone has a special witchcraft card seemingly allowing them to travel freely within the city.

The grand building in the city center appears to be a museum, with banners hanging everywhere commemorating the centennial anniversary of its establishment. Some scaffolding remains as workers discuss with the Children of Soil and Stone how to conduct the final renovation. A group of workers happen to end their shift, and change into fresh clothes before melding into the crowd of visitors to view the exhibition. Sarkaz or not, everyone enters with a ticket in hand and no discrimination in sight. Banshee guides lead a long line of visitors to the exhibits as pairs of Goliath security guards accompany each display with their backs straight. Some crude yet mysterious ritual instruments are on display, covered with witchcraft-reinforced glass for tourists from all over the land to see. At the end of the many exhibits, the last stop is the gift shop, where you can buy replicas of the ancient furnace, copies of the Liches' notes, or the exact fragrance the Lord of the Banshees uses.

An entire area in a corner of the city is reserved for young students, with each classroom filled to the brim. Banshees teach singing lessons, Liches immerse themselves in the study of logic, Wendigos conduct PE, and Djaj have taken the role of psychotherapists, soothing the sensitive hearts of the children. The campus's green grass is perfect for relaxation or hanging out, and a clear artificial river draws in those looking for some fun. One can follow the river to find oneself at the ruins of the former Soul Furnace.

It seems at some point the Sarkaz used to power the city by burning revenants, but released them from the furnace once they had the technology to build a nomadic city. However, this ancient construct was not demolished, but instead renovated. Once full of flames, it has now become the source of all the artificial water channels in Kazdel as it continues to nourish the city.

Nymph rises from her bed, recalling the scenes from before.

The sights she saw right before she lost consciousness.

It was Kazdel, the Kazdel narrated by her and her companions.

How beautiful and inviting it was.

But what about reality?

Nymph looks out the window. Particles of Originium dust are mixed in with the morning mist, and she can only barely make out a yellowish-brown skyline of dilapidated buildings in the distance and the intermittent shouting of faraway Sarkaz workers.

'You're awake, Miss Nymph? Did you sleep well?' Amiya has come to visit her with some breakfast.

'Super well, Amiya.' Nymph kneads her own cheeks, 'Is something happening outside?'

'Nothing unusual. Rhodes Island just delivered some construction materials, so they're just moving it over to the work sites... Did the noise wake you?

'No, not at all.' Nymph picks up a comb from her bedside table and begins to sort out her hair. 'Right, I dreamt I saw the streets of Kazdel, from before I left the story. Would you like to hear about it?'

'Of course.'

Amiya sits by the sickbed, listening intently to Nymph's story.

'Oh, how wonderful it'd be if Kazdel really ended up like that.'

'I don't think it's all that distant of a dream for the Sarkaz.'

'Yeah, which is why I need to work harder, to learn more skills at Rhodes Island. Who knows, maybe I'll be the one to make it come true by the time I get back?'

'I'm sure you can do it, Miss Nymph.'

'Hehe, thank you!'

'We still have time, so why not let me tell you a story?'

'Oh, of course. You're the one who went into the revenant space to pull me out, after all.'

'You should be more careful next time. Don't lose yourself in there.'

'I know I messed up... Back then, it felt like I flew out of my body, and I saw Her Highness and the General turning their heads... Er, then what happened?'

'Settle down. Now how should I put this...? Hmm...

'Let's start with the 'Amiya' from inside the story.'

A long, long time ago, Theresa and Theresis were ambushed in Rim Billiton. They were separated for a long time, and in their time apart, Theresa saved an Infected girl.

Her name was Amiya.

She was the only survivor of a convoy crash, and Originium had left a giant crystal chunk on her right shoulder.

She could not walk at all, and also suffered a severe fever from Oripathy. Theresa could only try to patch her wounds, and crossed the wastes with the girl on her back, looking for help.

The assassins were relentless, and the girl's fever refused to subside either. Theresa could only try her best to protect her as she struggled through the barrens. When Theresis and Babel found Theresa, the seamstress was taking a breather with the girl deep asleep in her arms. Her latest assassins had fallen only a short distance away, and the arm she cradled the child with was still dripping with blood.

They rushed the girl back to Babel to treat her, and fortunately saved her life. However, the Originium in her shoulder was possibly a lifelong companion.

Theresa adopted her, and would spend her free time with the child, together with Theresis. Be it fate or her own compassionate nature, she was prepared to take care of Amiya for the rest of her life. After all, Amiya's condition wasn't the best, and Babel's medics had estimated the Cautus might depart this land within the next five years.

However, she had the fortune to make it to adulthood, and only passed on after two more decades. No one knows when exactly she did. They had looked for her and found only a medicine box covered with Originium dust, a white robe ripped apart by Originium particles, and a damaged ID card.

Theresa knew this day would come, and had long since prepared for it. But when she held the Oripathy monitoring and prevention notebook left in the medicine box for the Kings of Sarkaz, she could not hold back her tears. Theresis, too, held regret over Amiya's passing. It was more than just a shared empathy between the twins, but his own personal recognition of and respect for Amiya. For all its lofty ideals, Babel had been forced to erect its tower on blood, and Amiya was fundamentally against this: she herself was a victim of war, and never wanted to be on the side that hurt others. As such, she bid the Kings farewell, refusing any of their help, and left Kazdel on her own as a wandering medic, helping the dying and injured. She gradually formed a small medical squad that specialized in rescues in areas ravaged by Catastrophe or combat. Few manage to stick to their ideals to the very end, and Theresis could not help but think of the little Cautus tormented by Oripathy as he picked up what remained of her. He had once looked after Amiya for Theresa, and at the time had asked her if she had any wishes. She told the swordsman that she wanted to become someone who could defeat Oripathy. He had laughed, treating it as a child's simple hope, but now he truly felt the weight of her will.

It was because of these shared experiences that the Kings cherished their encounter so much. Even knowing it was not the same Amiya they knew personally, she shared the same tenacity, determination, and courage as the Amiya in their memories. As she floated in the air and a crown appeared, inheriting their unfinished cause, the joy that sprung up in their hearts brought them a sense of gratification.

In Amiya's eyes, she thought it fortunate to see a future where the two had reconciled. How could she not feel excitement and inspiration when she saw Theresa's ideals realized?

'So what did you say to them?'

Amiya smiles, but does not answer. She insists Nymph get more rest.

On the empty bed beside her, Civilight Eterna takes out a nonexistent set of pen and paper to note down Amiya and Nymph's conversation, as well as these strange stories.

She has a huge smile on her face.

Few people know that a cell lies hidden at the bottom of Babel. No one stands guard, for the Kings of Sarkaz have set up many precautions to ensure the Sarkaz's greatest enemy can never escape. Few come to visit, but today Theresis walks through the barren corridor and opens the cell door.

'Long time no see, Kal'tsit.'

The Feline called 'Kal'tsit' does not reply, and merely continues sitting at her desk, reading the ancient book in her hands.

'Or should I call you AMa-10?'

The Feline turns her head to look at Theresis, a hint of surprise hidden deep within her seemingly lifeless eyes.

'There should be no one who knows what that string of letters means. Who did you hear that from, King of Sarkaz?'

'Amiya shared a secret with us. In the world where she still lives, you are one of her most capable assistants, a powerful aide to the King of Sarkaz.

'Of course, you wouldn't know who that is here. To you, she is merely a single Infected Cautus, unworthy of your efforts or attention.