ro2

You've done well, Mizuki.

Sir.

She simply was not as perfect as you.

She was so eager to change. Even if the Herald's gift led her astray––

That was nevertheless what she hoped for.

But what about her memories and her song? She seemed as fond of singing as ever.

In that form, all she can manage is sounds that terrify her.

I only provide a choice. As for where the individual ends up, I don't think anyone else can make that decision.

You don't care at all about what she has become?

Individuals like that are indeed uncommon.

Most humans have no idea what they are seeking, or are easily manipulated by some burst of emotion.

When they swallow the gift of the Herald, their consciousness is subsumed by the instincts of we many and they turn into a Sea Terror, or some kind of incomplete Seaborn, eager to swim out into the ocean.

Highmore was able to revert back from this state, presumably because she wished from the bottom of her heart to capture those human qualities she so cherished.

Just like you, in a sense, Mizuki.

But, you did not undergo that process. Even if you accepted your Seaborn form, your cognition of yourself would still shape you into what you are now.

You accepted becoming Seaborn in its entirety, and decided to become human – just like I once did.

But she failed.

Because of fear, or loneliness? I can't say for sure.

As a result, she is trapped somewhere between success and failure. Though she accepted the gift, her refusal to have anything else excised from her naturally created a dissonance.

If the blueprint for the future drafted by your experiment rejects those who aren't resilient enough, then it can't be a successful adaptation or evolution for humanity.

True, my dear child, true indeed. I must return to the drawing board again, seeing as that is the answer you've given me.

Do you still remember the question I asked you?

'How do you become a better human?'

You've given me a very good answer.

See? Rightfully accepting this power has opened your mind, and it seems you've already fully understood my goal.

Perhaps if I work hard enough, all humans who taste the fruit of the gods can become as wise as you.

Can a lifeform like that still be called human?

A true human would know how to utilize the strength of will that transcends physical matter to overcome the side effects of their trappings.

And at that stage, those who are unable to overcome, or only able to lament the weakness of their mind and body, are unfit to bear the weight of the title, 'human.'

I will let Highmore live.

A benevolent decision, but you are free to do as you see fit.

Your every action will serve as an example to those who come after you.

I'm very glad to see you, Mizuki. Just as I said before, as long as you do not stray from your path, our fates will intersect eventually.

We shall meet again.

Hmph... He is as stubborn as ever.

*sniffle*... *sobs*...

You're awake?

It must've taken a lot of energy to turn to that form. Want me to whip something up for you?

Okay...

Wait, hold on, what's that?!

Oh, these? They're your limbs.

Huh?!

You weren't able to complete your Seaborn metamorphosis, so most of that proliferated tissue ended up falling off.

I helped remove the rest of the stuff that was stuck onto you, so you should look like a completely normal person now. Nobody will ever know the difference.

C'mon, dig in while the meat's still fresh. You'll recover some of your strength, at least.

Err, umm... Uhh, I don't know about this one...

Pfft.

Don't worry about it, this one cooks fast.

Th-Th-That's not what I meant.

Huh... Maybe I overcooked this first batch a little. Guess I'll try it first.

Mizuki...

Hmm?

Are you hungry now?

No!!!

I-I wanted to ask about something else...

Sir Cicero left. I proved how blind and incompetent I am...

I have nothing left...

That might be true.

But as long as I have good stuff to eat and drink and games to play, life's pretty comfy for me.

Those hobbies that let you reject the Seaborn can also give you a purpose to live on, I'm sure of it.

Are you sure you don't want a bite?

I'm good...

Hmm, alright.

I didn't bring any dry food with me, but I do know a good place with lots of nice people who can cook all sorts of delicious food.

Might even be able to help you get a sense of humanity again.

How about it? Want to come with me?

Okay.

Bleh...

You've brought the waves.

(Low-pitched braying)

Not, kin. The scent of soil...

The seeds fall into the ocean, blooming into cerulean flowers...

These are not the terrible waves...

(Ears perk up attentively)

The terrible waves––

The knight's soliloquy comes to an abrupt end.

The sound of the surging waves, the whistling of fowlbeasts, the howling of the strident wind.

In that instant, everything disappears.

In complete silence, the wind rises and the clouds surge.

After the moment of silence, the waves ascend, and calamity descends once again.

Ishar'mla leads we many from the depths of the tides.

No longer is Iberia the sole victim. Every corner of the land––

Shall be drowned out by the Profound Silence.

The knight has lost his voice. He suddenly jerks the reins of his mount and aims the tip of his lance across the other side of the ocean.

He lets out a great roar that makes his skull tremble, but when the sound reaches his ears, it is nothing more than a strange, shrill hiss.

His arms are shaking, his breaths become rapid, and Rocinante keeps shaking its head.

The Seaborn instinct continually pushes back against this internecine savagery,

But the knight pays no heed to the cruel truth behind these physiological reactions. He is resolute in his belief that they arise from an uncontrollable ecstasy within his heart.

After all––

The terrible waves he has been chasing for such a long time are before his very eyes.

That is the origin of his fate, the cause of the terrible waves.

Ishar...mla... The knight still remembers His name.

It is He who stirs the waves. It is He who drives the sea to swallow the land. It is He who speaks for the ocean.

Thus, as long as this grand lifeform falls here,

the ocean will forever be silent, and there will be no more waves.

The seawater slams against his armor, causing a roar akin to a metallic Feranmut stampeding across the land.

The rain dilutes the taste of rust in his breath, but brings the stench of life to his nostrils.

The tide tries to hold down his lance, and the currents drag him back towards the land.

The whole world is holding back the knight.

The ears of wheat are swaying, the pomegranate flowers are calling.