level_act18d0_01_beg

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Modern Day

2:48 P.M. \ Clear

Central Sargon, Ibut Region, Nameless Town

No-one here. (We still haven't seen a trace of them. Did they get caught up in something...?)

Strange. This is exactly where we agreed to meet up, right?

Our coordinates check out.

We can't rule out a sandstorm. Let's stay calm.

Sesa... this isn't good.

Hey, now. They're not here yet, but what good is it being so grim? Are we just going to have a staring contest?

Now's not the time for video games, though. Why did you bring that along?

Not important—

Something must be wrong. We should've at least gotten contact at a set time.

Shouldn't we do something or other?

Don't worry so much. What can we even do? The best plan is to just sit tight here, and wait for an answer.

But... it's been too long.

Hold on, there's—

(Sargonian) Good morning.

Heavyrain! Cool it!

Hmph—

S—Sorry, I struck on reflex...

(Sargonian) Oh, your looks deceive. You're quite the quick-tempered girl. This will only damage your first impressions, though...

(Sargonian) This is the Reefsteep Black Market, and we're all in business here. I trust we have words for each other, so no need for an armed conversation, yes?

(Sargonian) What day is today? Why would the 'Sand Soldier' be here?

(Sargonian) Oh, you recognize me?

(Sargonian) The head intel peddler of the Reefsteep market, the puppeteer of the vast majority of all armed conflicts in Ibut, styled by the locals as 'Zuzu.'

(Sargonian) In ancient tongue, it entailed a charm, or perhaps a talisman—

(Sargonian) —but I know what lies behind your new name, 'Sand Soldier.' What's a major player like you up to here?

(Sargonian) Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I just wanted to have a chat with you two. With... er, Rhodes Island.

(Sargonian) Or perhaps... I've disrupted your original itinerary?

(Sargonian) ...Where are our Operators?

Oh... so you're from Sargon too, then. Good. Then let's get right to the point.

Your Operators are safe and sound. Your batch of experimental medical material... also untouched.

Where are they?

Who knows?

You—

Heavyrain, rein it in!

Quite right. Rein it in. You haven't even the capital to start a conflict with me here.

Compared to how valuable your pharmaceutical materials are, a few porters can't be worth much in my concern...

You have your eyes on those materials.

And if I nodded yes?

Let our Operators go. We'll hand over the goods. How about that?

Oh? As simple as that?

But all I took was a few employees... now I'm a little skeptical.

Your goods might've had a small footprint, but they're not cheap. It doesn't seem 'Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals' is so profligate a company. Would you really be so willing to give them up?

I'll stop you right there. Forget market value. Human life is the most precious thing to us.

A perspective bursting with humanity. But who'll step up to weigh them, then—decide their worth?

Will a certain 'Kal'tsit?'

You nabbed our contract... You know Dr. Kal'tsit?

No, it's a very common name. Over these years, I've sought so many people in error... so many.

Back to our original topic.

Oh, my apologies. Your people are actually waiting right outside, and I have no interest in your goods—

—Heavyrain.

I'll go check now—you stay alert.

As you wish.

Huh! The fixer from the black market... wouldn't come here just to scare our new recruits, would he?

Rhodes Island and the Sargon black market are far from bosom friends. We only had to take this plunge after some of our drugs got jammed up in Columbia.

Oripathy waits for no-one, correct? That's all this is. There should be no conflict between us.

I've heard of you before, the armaments tuner 'Bridge,' having worked for three different arms dealers in the past. A fine reputation. Oh, I believe you're called 'Sesa' now?

Really, you make too much of me.

Well, then, what gives you an interest in Rhodes Island?

During a routine probing of accounts, a completely watertight transaction came to light. You must know, not one sheaf of gold in the Reefsteep passes out of my notice.

And?

No, no cause for worry. You haven't exposed any leverage, and as I've already said, your transaction doesn't interest me. It's just the... signature, on this contract, that I mind.

Come. I have time to spare today. Tell me, what kind of place is Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals?

'Trek upon Terra, as millions of lives.'

22 Years Ago

1:09 P.M. \ Clear

Central Sargon, Ibut Region, the Town of Redhorn

They're firing! Ambush! Ambush!

Withdraw our cov—aghh—

Are they mad?! With this many civilians around?!

Quick! Hide here!

Shit, close. Thanks.

—Fire, fire! My house—ukh— (The sound of a throat being pierced.)

Hurry! Hurry!!

Eyaaargh—

Too many civilians getting caught up...! Are they trying to pull the Lord Ameer of Ibut's whole army in!?

The Lord Ameer's army? How do you know they weren't the army in disguise?

You mean—

Look at this.

The red mark...? You picked this off one of the corpses—?

I did. We've been fooled by our own. The situation here is a complete mess now. You might not even get it if I gave you the whole lecture—

It's way more than just us who wanted to ransack that squad. Dammit. Grab it and turn it into cash, my ass. This is a full-blown war now—

The sentry sent me all the coordinates before going black. There's four different identifiers all crawling this one area!

Do you understand what this means? Either we break through the line and earn big, or we still have the chance to surrender right now!

—Goddamnit! This is insane!

*pant*... *pant*... *cough*, *cough* *cough*...

...should be... alone here...

*cough*...

...wh—who?

A child? Why are you carrying a body... eugh, get out of here already!

Hold on... your clothes! You're a Columbian!? You're from the 'Sand Soldiers'!

B8 here, we have a survivor, a Liberi child, carrying a grown man's body—

Hey, hold it right there!

Alright, kids, you all heard that. The 'Sand Soldiers' still have one left alive! We need to bring him over!

There's still a chance our target fell into someone else's hands. Just in case, kill every last one you come across. Doesn't matter if they're the Lord Ameer's. Even if Padishah Murad himself is here, he has to die too.

Remember, a silver box. I want to be sitting on that singing before the sun goes down.

We've intercepted their comms band. It seems the 'Sand Soldiers' still have a survivor.

A child, carrying a body, probably a comrade. Think he's got what Padishah's after?

Not one team's retreated from that town yet. Chances are they're all still looking for their target.

Of course. Everyone swarming that tiny of a town at once is just going to add to the chaos, waste time and nothing else.

Hold on, our Caster's gotten news. Something's up...

What?

There's a freight truck... registration Tkaronto, Columbia... parked near the Central Smoke bazaar.

A woman and a monster? Monster? What monster—oh.

Line cut off. He gets careless too?

No, his ambush point is at least a kilometer out from the bazaar. It shouldn't have been that fast. Not unless whatever team this is knew the topography here like the backs of their hands... or maybe, they're just experienced enough to blow anyone off the sand.

Could it be someone from Vouivre? Or some other cutthroat here on Columbia's dime?

Let's watch this unfold first.

*pant*... *pant*...

*cough* *cough*... Why did... Teacher... *cough* *cough*!

Our target's around here! He can't get that far carrying a body—

Tch! We've got trouble! No hesitating! Kill!

...am... am I safe...?

...Teacher, Teacher... come on, wake up...

The... I can't stop the blood... you still haven't taught me so much... what do you want me to do...

...Target found.

Don't move! One more inch and I'll cut your head off!

Scared stupid, aren't you, talking to a dead guy? Uh-huh?

Put that idiot on your back down and tell me, where is it!?

...I...

I don't know...

Mmph—

Don't try and fool me, you worthless... huh?

Is this... the 'Sand Soldier' leader's body? What are you... wait, do you have it on you?

—Don't touch him!

Gah! Who do you think you are—piss off!!

Ugh...

The silver combination box! So here it is... heheh, hahahah!

Let go of it! Get—Get out of my way!

Heh, now we've got the target, we don't need to leave any survivors.

Don't blame me, kid. This is my job—

Wha—What the hell is—?!

Grrr...

What is that—hey, is anyone there?! I've run into an unidenti—

(Shrieks)

—Ugh!

Machine... no, creature?! What the hell kind of thing are you?!

Don't get any—why aren't my bolts doing anything—don't get any closer! Any closer and I'll kill you!

(Snickers)

Before his eyes, the monster skewers the ruffian.

It lightly unfolds its body, like a stretch in the early morning.

...Mon3tr.

(Responds)

Ah... ah...

The boy is frozen in place, having long lost the voice to cry out.

He holds only an ice-cold carcass, the blood of the dead clotting on his chest, reminiscent of a flower.

Elliot, you're safe.

Who... who are you... How do you know me?

I know every last esteemed scientist of the Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute.

But none of you know what kind of plot this whole affair has been drawn into. I'm here to stop you, and here to protect you.

Protect...?

You're already late... too late...

You didn't let your fine teacher's legacy fall into those conspirators' hands. You've done well enough.

What do you mean, protect...

—You want to protect these! The blueprint, the sample, not me! And not Teacher!

You're just like them! Teacher's dead! All the people who were helping us are dead too! You're all just fighting over this case—you—you—*cough* *cough*, *cough*—

Adviser, we've confirmed three mercenary teams hired by lords ameer across the map, as well as one Sarkaz unit on a cliff outside the town, affiliation unknown for now.

According to our plans, we still have seven minutes.

I've found one survivor, sample in hand.

The evac route is secure.

Converge in three minutes.

Tell me, Elliot. The Vouivre soldier you're carrying on your back: what did he die for?

...Shut up...

Right now, you stand here, you live, and you carry what every mercenary here wants.

The squad operated under the name 'Sand Soldiers'... but in actuality, all that came to Sargon was a research team, and a typical security force from Tkaronto.

Whether or not he persisted in his duty until the end, whether or not he paid mind to your safety until the end, didn't he entrust a deep responsibility to you?

Whether or not because of your own immature temperament, are you going to make a total waste of all your soldiers' full efforts?

I only need an answer.

As long as I can ensure that this prototype blueprint doesn't fall into any lord ameer's hands, I will not go out of my way to mind anything else. I hope for you to understand this.

High alert. You still aren't willing to speak much.

But I remember... the man on your back is Professor Thorne. Blaine Formative Technologies Research Institute, Head Researcher.

He was not a true soldier. Yet a true soldier is what he is.

You...

Just put him down. Or you could be buried together with him in the yellow dust.

I trust he believed his death had a purpose, and you should not squander his sacrifice.

No...

He's already dead.

No! This isn't your business!

At least give him a decent burial.

...Mon3tr.

(Hissing)

What's... What's that ball of light?

Lower your head.

Ngh—!

...You... You want me to bury Teacher in here?

Professor Thorne is an old friend of mine. The situation is abnormal. We have no chance to more solemnly address his sacrifice.

Every person's life is an endless war.

On certain motives, his ancestors left Sargon. Wandering again and again, he found a life he could call his own, yet in the end he returned to Sargon's barrens.

His cause, his just heart, his thirst for knowledge all arrived at their terminus.

The Professor Thorne I knew was in no way unversed in life's affairs. Candidly, he confronted his own death, and until the very end resisted.

Elliot, just put him down.

I...

This is respect for the deceased. Surely you understand, he wouldn't have wished to become a burden on your path?

Okay... okay...

(Ancient Vouivran language) May his soul, with the long river, return.

Vouivran...? Are—Are you from Vouivre?

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he, as the gravel, pass into eternal tranquility.

(Ancient Vouivran language) May he ever hear his homeland's whispers. May he, at the other shore, meet the great waves.

(Ancient Vouivran language) Our friend rests eternal here. He shall return to the boundless cycle of rebirth.

As the woman bowed her head and prayed, it was as if the fire of war, too, paused for this moment.

...Time is running short. We've paid what respect we can. Now, you must make a choice.

(A low, alert sounding.)

Correct, they are many, but their formation is in loose disarray. As an armed force, they're not in one heart and mind.

Before they find us, they'll make their own grave.

...I remember, now... I remember I saw your face before, somewhere... long ago... Teacher introduced you to me...

I thought you were only a theoretical researcher...

I remember... Your name is...

Kal'tsit...?

Mm.

You have quite a good memory, Elliot.

The young researcher, Elliot Glover, pays no attention to the mysterious woman as she leaves through the door.

In a daze, he gazes at the soil that half-buried his beloved teacher, the air scattered with dust.

He thinks to himself: I haven't even the strength to cremate my teacher's remains. It leads him, for an instant, to mourn.

Until the sound of warfare resumes once more.