level_act17side_06_beg

Breogan... was the owner of that key.

During Iberia's Golden Age, he became a guest of honor to the aristocrats and nobility. He was once seen as the symbol of the budding harmony between the Ægir Islanders and Iberians.

Nobody knows what he was doing right before the disaster, or what he lacked the time to do. But he had already left behind a significant legacy. And for you, significant directions.

Regardless, he is part of the past. I have no doubt you will be the ones to make the choice, here in the present.

As for the key... The question of why Breogan's key was left in Kazimierz is one we do not need answered.

But it was found by the Hunter, Skadi. This was no coincidence, but rather an inevitability. You all have a natural sensitivity towards the sea.

...Indeed, I handed the key to that band. You will learn what they truly are. Perhaps the Ægir will need to enlist their help.

They are also searching for answers. Most of them are young, uncomfortable with the ocean's changes. After all, they cannot truly leave the place of their birth.

Yes... I hope we'll succeed. Humanity faces too many problems, and the layers upon layers of disasters can easily extinguish the light of our current civilization.

Gladiia, if you wish to act alone, I won't try to dissuade you. Skadi is just like you. Perhaps all the Hunters are.

But whatever you do, don't think you can solve all of this land's problems by yourself.

Hm? Ask away. I will answer any of your questions.

Ishar-mla...?

Where did you hear that name?

We're almost there.

But the ocean is just too vast. Even slight inaccuracies in the coordinates can lead to huge errors.

...It is also much calmer than I imagined.

More than calm. Since leaving the lighthouse, we've actually faced fewer and fewer attacks.

Not even the wind or waves are stirring.

What does it mean?

It means—

Are you nervous, my poor little bird?

Eek! Wh-When did you— Stand where I can see you!

Who are you calling nervous, anyway? It's just... very, very few people manage to make it this far out into the ocean, so I... I can't be sure that—

Nay, your eyes are drawn back to over your shoulder, not to the horizon. You fear loss, more than the unknown.

Your superior gave you this chance so you could board the Stultifera and to reach out to the Ægir, not for you to wallow indecisively.

...I know that.

Before the fight comes to us, you must— Hey. Do you smell that, Shark?

Of course. Keep this cozy little boat slightly to the right, and soon we'll be able to see the bigger boat.

It's long since become yet another nest though. Do we really intend to dive right in?

Do you need to rest, Specter?

Me? Is there something wrong with me? Why would you ask that?

Your hand is shaking.

Hm?

Specter looks down at her hand. The one not wielding a weapon is indeed trembling slightly in the sea breeze.

Her consciousness gradually clears up and plunges deep into the abyss, untouchable.

I... Ah, is this anxiety? Or... excitement?

But why?

Gladiia reaches out and gently holds Specter's hand, with Skadi following suit. The three Abyssal Hunters share a moment of silence.

Welcome home, Hunters.

Gladiia solemnly steps onto the ship's bow.

The sea breeze cleaves a path through the night, carrying upon it a familiar scent.

The quiet vessel sleeps soundly atop the ocean. It is a vassal of the sea breeze, the guest of an era.

Idealism was ubiquitous in that era, and it reflected the peoples' spirit of exploration—as well as their arrogance.

Skadi and Gladiia gaze wordlessly at the ship.

In an instant, they are inundated with a flood of thoughts. But in the end, they are invariably dragged back to the past—their youth, their home, the rhythmic swaying of the ship.

Only Specter continues to grip tightly onto the weapon in her hand, the sea breeze picking up slightly.

This breeze will carry the Hunters home.

(Slithers across a rocky surface)

Mon3tr, burn them.

(Screeches)

Lord Carmen, we can't afford to stay here much longer. The team of Hunters is in danger.

The Penal Battalion is being held back. It seems even I have underestimated the extent of the Church of the Deep's taint.

We should've cleared a temporary forward base at Gran Faro, to continue the pursuit.

We didn't have a choice.

If we have no way of securing the town, we'll be under attack from both sides.

An Iberian Tercio consists of at least ten companies, approximately three thousand people. The officers of the Penal Battalion are more than sufficient to lead them to victory.

You seem quite knowledgeable about this.

We've crossed paths more than once.

Are you suggesting we let the Penal Battalion handle Gran Faro, and head straight to the Eye of Iberia?

I wouldn't be opposed to that proposal, were we dealing with Victoria's fleet.

Otherwise, our losses will be even greater.

(Riffs)

Miss Frost? Why are you—

A warm-up workout, she said.

We come from the sea. We are the sea.

However... (Riffs dejectedly)

...If you're willing to help, that would be ideal. What can you offer?

I can make them listen. Listen to my song.

And your companions?

Apologies in advance, but Dan wants to borrow that chapel. The others are in there thinking up new songs.

Music? Your melodies are considerably different from what I used to hear in Leithanien. Are you sure they'll be interested in this sort of thing?

(Riffs tersely)

The meaning of life... is music.

I just want to clean up the venue before the show starts.

Frost slowly pulls out her guitar.

Carmen cannot help but be surprised. He can tell that the organism in front of him is truly, genuinely thinking about 'music.' Her words contained no superfluous intentions.

It is by no means a metaphor. Use the word as such, and Frost's attention will quickly wander. She only thinks about music. Only this form of art, capable of stimulating her soul, can hold her attention.

(Flinching slithering sounds)

(Riffs experimentally)

The lurking Sea Terrors circle around her. Observing, examining, judging.

They dare not wantonly approach her. They smell a familiar scent. They realize that the guitarist in front of them is a hollow vessel. Her distant connection resonates through the depths bestowed to them as their birthright.

Even on land, they instantly feel as if they have become one with the sea.

(Conflicted, confused slithering sounds)

How... miraculous.

These creatures are intimately connected with the land itself. In their eyes, are humans and Sea Terrors no different?

Frost does not answer. She is intoxicated by the melody, consumed by the passion.

Kal'tsit knows that the question was rhetorical.

Kal'tsit, was this also part of your plans? For them to sit on the coast, while the Penal Battalion delves into the sea?

If you choose to believe so, then yes.

But the Penal Battalion didn't even have time to prepare even a single ship for us.

There's already one sitting along the shore.

It's been years since the Gran Faro project was scrapped.

...First we must uproot the evil that still grips this land.

I remain an Inquisitor. I will not sit idly by and watch the corruption that's been infesting Iberia slip away, right before my eyes.

Woah!

Are you alright?

L-Let go of me! Don't just go around picking people up!

But, my fragile little bird, how will you climb up this tall deck if I don't carry you?

Th-That's not what I meant— Tch, forget it...

What's the matter?

Inquisitor Irene simply stares blankly at the scenery in front of her.

A dim sliver of light in front of the pitch-black sea. In front of the ship's mast, time seems to have stood still for the past sixty years.

So this... is the Stultifera. 'Stultifera Navis.' The Ship of Fools.

The flagship that housed both scholars and soldiers, the floating palace of a fallen dynasty. It's quite... different from how it's described in the books.

Let's go.

W-Wait!

What are you even searching for, on a ship this big?

Breogan was an Ægir.

This key must be hiding some sort of clue that the Ægir wanted to leave behind.

A key? What is it meant to open?

That's what I'm here to find out.

Even ignoring its size, the ship's also been lost at sea for sixty years. How do you plan to—

Perhaps you young Iberians haven't had much exposure to these transport vessels. Even with Breogan's help, this thing was so shoddily built.

Why you...!

Were the seas calm on our way here? I'm sure you know the answer.

Then my next question for you is this: 'why didn't this ship sink?'

You don't mean—

Footsteps. Heavy, viscous footsteps.

A shadow appears upon the deck, where no living beings should stir.

No, Irene immediately reprimands herself for having such a thought. Gladiia's question was also on her mind. Along the shore, in the waters. She's already seen so many of these.

The moment she sees the enemy, the young, talented Inquisitor Irene's first instinct is to hold her breath.

By the time she remembers how to breathe, Gladiia has already stepped forward.

(Screeching howl) —!

Interesting, you managed to dodge it.

Not for long.

Don't even think about it!

What...?

It hid inside the cabin! Should we chase it?

...Yes, that is where it went.

But why would it hide inside? We're out in the middle of the ocean.

What do we do?

It's not alone. There's more than one Seaborn on this ship. And even more Sea Terrors.

We should split up.

I'll go after it.

I'll head down.

D-Down? How? Do you people already know the layout of this ship?

We don't, but that's nothing a sharp blade can't solve.

Excuse me?! This is the most important legacy of the Iberian sages we're talking about here!

And where will you go, little bird?

I... I have an obligation to supervise you. So I'll go with you.

There are so many mysteries shrouding the Stultifera. If it's been preserved this well, why did it never try to return to Iberia in the last sixty years?

As an Inquisitor, I must uncover the truth.

Shall we hold hands then?

Wh-What's the meaning of this?!

You are a fruit of elegance and grace. But your hard work and natural talents are worthless before the enemies you'll face.

I fear we will lose you with but a momentary lapse of focus.

...You look down on others too much, Ægir.

Keep her safe then.

Will do.

Shark.

Hm?

Did you remember something?

...The sea breeze told me. It spoke of a sculpture. It is weeping, waiting for me.

Will I be able to find it on this ship?

Of course. But make it quick.

I'll be waiting for you.

What sculpture?

Well, let us say our greetings to the deceased while searching for its whereabouts, Skadi.

...I'm glad you still remember my name.

This place... really is fit to be a palace.

But, how is it so pristine? There's not a speck of dust to be found. Look, even the floorboards are sparkling.

Maybe someone wanted to keep it tidy.

Who though?

Who knows.

You said you were going to pursue that monster. How are you planning on doing that?

Its scent doesn't lie.

Though this place is full of putrid smells. There must be more—

(Laborious slithering sounds)

Sea Terrors!

As expected, they turned this place into a nest.

I'll handle this.

(Slithers around in place)

—Wait! Specter! The scent's coming from below!

Ugh—

Ishar-mla.

Ishar-mla.

Urgh, that impact... Are you alright, Specter?

...Specter? Laurentina!

What are you looking at? A mirror? Why is there a mirror?

...The mirror's been broken.

What's with this place? Why did the Iberians make a transport vessel into a palace?

It's nothing like Rhodes Island.

Is there anything special about the mirror?

I saw it.

At first, there was a speck of light from the surface of the shattered mirror. But it quickly gave way to the dark shadow beneath it. Its eye.

The Seaborn had long been waiting here, sitting alone in its golden hall.

...Ishar-mla, La-tina, Louu-tina, Laren-tina......?

It's young... No, we can't judge their strength by size. Another Seaborn, without a doubt.

Sea Terrors too! They're gathering, Specter!

Specter ignores her words as she stares blankly at the mirror. And at the Seaborn behind it.

...You remember me?

The Seaborn nods slightly. It looks at Specter and Skadi with confusion. Thinking.

Why are they different from how they were in 'the past'? What happened to them? How can it help free them from their shackles of flesh and blood?

Specter!

I...

Don't think about it!

I'm not.

Her tone had changed.

Skadi looks at Specter with astonishment. She had never been able to get a definite answer from either Gladiia or Kal'tsit regarding the moment of clarity Specter displayed in Sal Viento.

Laurentina, you...

Laurentina. Yes, Laurentina.

Look, here on the scroll hanging from my weapon. Back when I wrote my name down and hung it here, I could still remember where I was born.

Ahhh... A lucid dream, huh? Really, it's been too long.

Specter.

Mm. We can reminisce later.

Whether in Sal Viento or aboard this familiar-yet-unfamiliar vessel, I really hope that next time I'm awakened, it's by Ægir's resplendent domes instead of you ugly monsters.

Hey, thanks for sitting back and letting me finish. Wait, you weren't seriously about to call us your kin were you? Gross.

Come on. Why don't you take a little nap too?

Sink into the quagmire of consciousness, and relinquish the gift of life.

—– (Screeches)