level_act17side_st09

Pick up the pace!

Ugh...

This... nethersea brand. What exactly is it?

Though tiny and varying in form, these fluorescent lifeforms are also an extension of our kin.

The Prophet once said there's a part of the ocean where these glowing creatures fill the entire sea. They are the Whole, and they shape the cradle of life for our kin.

The 'nethersea brand' is just fragments of His will from tens of thousands of nautical miles away, washed in like the tide. Even a tiny amount will inevitably consume the land.

It will turn the land into a new kind of ocean.

...Indeed.

So Iberia was the first sacrifice for your plans, and Gran Faro is the next.

Sacrifice? Surely you're using the wrong word?

No.

The Inquisition will take away my town. And this 'beautiful' nethersea brand will do the same.

Either way it's no longer our home. It'll lose its history, its golden years of explosive growth and vitality.

Thiago, surely you don't mean—

Jordi has been taken away as well. The ones who escaped have probably all been rounded up by the Penal Battalion by now.

You're all murderers.

— (Screeches excitedly)

Mon3tr?!

Why would it show up here?! Impossible! It was just on the west side of town—!

You lied to us, Thiago!

And you too?!

Before becoming an Inquisition spy, I was just the daughter of an ordinary Gran Faro laborer.

Don't underestimate our hatred. All the humiliation we've endured was just to take you all down.

Both you lot and the Inquisition are nothing more than enemies trampling over our home.

See for yourself what real destruction looks like. See for yourself what we saw back then.

Thiago! Get down!

Ugh!

(Screeches)

There's nothing left to tinker with. Everything else is out of power...

All that remains is to see how long this lighthouse can hold out.

(The nethersea brand has already reached this floor?)

I'll have to keep climbing higher.

High Inquisitor...

His arms have gone numb.

The shape of the reef has already changed dramatically. The High Inquisitor spares no effort when annihilating all enemies in his sight.

But his enemies are quite literally endless.

His sword is corroded, and he's expended his roll of explosives.

Only the flame in his lantern burns even brighter than before.

Not once does Dario look behind him, to the lighthouse he has defended from the beginning.

He looks beyond the sea's horizon.

Creatures of the sea, Iberia will not be destroyed by you.

Humanity will not be destroyed by you.

He hacks up the blood stuck in his throat. A metallic scent fills his nostrils.

(Slow slithering sounds)

And I, too, will not be destroyed by you. That would take more than death.

Be patient and wait here, Garcia.

(Squats beside the captain obediently)

It's always boring, waiting for our quarry to take the bait.

Still remember the second time we went to hunt these monsters? We still had over a hundred survivors back then.

When we first set sail, the air was filled with cheering and salutes from the cannons. Those sounds still echo in our ears to this day. We bid farewell to the grand shore, carrying the legends of Ægir as we sprinted towards the depths.

After a few days at sea—yes, only a few days—calamity struck.

Graaah... Why did these stupid goddamn cells rob you of your language?

How I wish to chat with you again, rather than those stupid, rancid idiots who took over sixty years to get here!

(Rubs Alfonso's hand in sorrow)

Good day, Mister Captain.

Oh, we just happened to be short some bait. Fancy a dip? Considering you're an Ægir, after all.

What? Already forgotten what I said?

Either you leave, or I toss you overboard.

It's a miracle you survived. I never thought any Iberians would've made it after all this time.

That's got nothing to do with you, or with Iberia. After sixty years, the only thing I belong to is this ship.

But, we—

Let me give it a try, Skadi.

How goes the hunt?

Maybe my extremely cordial attitude has stoked a number of misunderstandings. But I can tell that the blood of monsters flows in your veins, just like me.

We're... the same?

You, us, and your chief mate too?

...Who gave you permission to talk about Garcia? Who gave you permission to LOOK at my Garcia, you filthy Ægir mongrels?

I never told you what Garcia used to be. You don't know if they were a man or a woman, tall or short, fat or skinny, Perro or devil.

But know that Garcia is my chief mate and my lover, and I will never reveal their former self to outsiders.

We don't need your pity, or a comparison to whatever image of us you might have from the past. Neither of us need any of that.

What a joke. Hunters whose blood is mixed with that of their prey. Not even the ocean's waves can wash away your filth, yet you dare bare your fangs in front of us?

Skadi's brows furrow into a frown. She rarely cares about what others have to say, especially land-dwellers. But the words coming from the exception in front of her make her feel uncomfortable.

The chief mate shoots a sharp glance at Skadi. It is a warning.

But, we need your help.

...What do you call these monsters again? Sea-something?

Oh, 'Seaborn.'

Okay, so why should we help you Seaborn? Do you know how many good lads lost their lives to the sea after the calamity?

You float around on these waters and refuse to return to port, yet still insist that you're an enemy of the sea?

Yup. That's my life.

We are... Abyssal Hunters. We come from Ægir, and while we can only guess how exactly you survived, we have nothing but respect for you.

We also hope you'll understand that everything we do is to fight against those enemies.

And I should care about what Ægir does, why?

Er, no, you misunderstand.

Skadi shoots a glance at Specter beside her. When she'd said 'let me give it a try,' Skadi thought she meant that she'd be better at negotiating.

But drawing her weapon should absolutely not be a part of 'negotiations.'

Let me rephrase that. It's our job to slaughter them. And I happen to find that process rather enjoyable.

Since you're only hunting for food, I can leave you some of the meat when I'm done. After all, I've never liked dealing with that nauseating stuff.

You... think pretty highly of yourselves, eh? Compared to the Victorians, or Leithanians? I've seen the way you kill Seaborn. You aren't worth a damn thing.

Oh, don't get us wrong, dealing with these low-level creatures we call Sea Terrors doesn't even count as combat for the 2nd Company. Gladiia isn't exactly the stingy type either.

I'm stronger than you. That's just an indisputable fact.

Hraagh...!

My, let's not get ahead of ourselves, Mister Chief Mate. Or, Miss? Anyway, it's not your turn yet.

...Lay a finger on Garcia, and you're dead.

Oh really?

Since our captain's mission is to retrieve this ship and return to Ægir, we don't have the luxury of sitting around trying to convince you.

This way's always been the more straightforward means of communication—the Hunters' way.

Hah, you've got a death wish!

Kin, I've come for you.

To hunt and consume, is an important matter.

You, are not all kin. But I know, you can still return to our kind.

So I ask, what will you do?

Piss off!

Hah, now there's an easy way to prove that you're not a Seaborn. Kill it. Unless you're unwilling to attack your 'kin.'

Then I sincerely hope that you won't drag me down.

I'm more worried about you showing mercy to your twisted 'kin,' Ægir.

Then you worry over nothing. After all, if I really was on their side, you'd be dead already.

So, once I prove I'm not one of them, are you willing to lend us your ship?

Not a chance in hell. The ship belongs to me.

That's too bad. Maybe if I help you lose that arm of yours during this battle, that'll wake up a part of your humanity?

Chief Mate! Stay back, don't do anything. Let's see how much of a difference there is between us and these monsters claiming to be human.

You too Skadi, don't snatch my mark. This hunt is mine. And I need to... let off a little bit of steam.

Hunting, must be done.

Purpose, to mold the environment.

You, are rich in nutrients.