level_act18d3_09_beg

Skadi, can you move?

I don't know. It's tough... to keep that kind of feeling under control. It's hard not to think about it.

I can't move my fingers. It feels like my nails will all swim away if I tried to.

Your neural cells are rapidly metabolizing. Remember, you are a hunter. They can't do anything to you.

Is thinking about that going to help?

If you don't want to become a Seaborn, this will help wonders.

Okay.

I think... I can still pick up my weapon.

A mixed blood without a weapon, another who's injured, and a third one that's infected. What can you even hope to accomplish?

Look at that expression of yours? Are you starting to think yourself noble now?

Me?

Wait, strange... I'm afraid you misunderstood.

I might have felt sorry for the Seaborn, but if you think I feel the same about you, you have another thing coming. Once I kill you, it'll be all over.

Do you really think that's a saxophone in her case?

Little mermaid, how much longer will you sleep? Open your eyes. The things that happened in the past can't possibly have you trapped.

She was a mere test subject as well!

Shark, you've been awake for a while, haven't you?

The bishop turns around.

There, he finds Specter stroking the glass of the water tank. She looks at the bishop with a curious... and gentle gaze.

What...? Even such a high-density Originium liquid...?

The bishop stumbles backwards a little but then remembers the two Abyssal Hunters are standing behind him, petrifying him.

Specter mouths a few words.

They seem to be some really ferocious words.

It's great to see you're the same as ever, Shark.

Ugh, I've almost forgotten she always used to be like this.

Skadi kicks open the box. There is a blade inside. Yes, her greatsword had been inside the box the whole time... alongside a circular saw with a long handle.

Ahh... My hand still feels rather numb.

I didn't spend all these years with Rhodes Island to come unprepared for something like this. Here.

Skadi bends back a little and vigorously throws the saw at the glass tank.

The bishop hurriedly dodges, but the circular saw sweeps up a gale that manages to tear open a wide hole in his long robe.

Right before the merciless weapon lands on the glass tank and shatters it to pieces, a pale white hand shatters the glass pane herself. Just as the water inside spills out from the tank, the hand grabs onto the saw without regard to the sharp shards of glass flying in the air.

Caught between her hand and the handle of the saw, the glass shards immediately shatter into fine, glittering dust that spills from the gaps between her fingers.

Needless to say, Specter's hand is completely unharmed.

The hunter has awakened. Specter has awakened.

Here I was thinking I could keep being the courteous lady I am for just a little longer.

Specter answers with an ill-boding grin.

I've spent such a long time as an adorable, well-behaved nun, I wasn't sure how I'd approach you two.

Enough. Come out already.

It's been a very long time. I'm not sure if I'm more used to how you are now or back when you were all deranged and high-strung.

Before the bishop can come back to his senses, the predator in the water tank has already broken out of her fragile cage.

She begins to hack away at the one responsible for this string of events with her saw.

A scream echoes through the cave.

Wow, so tough.

Shark, come back! He's a Seaborn now!

A foul stench fills the air. It is then that Skadi realizes what has actually been the source of this strange phenomenon.

Captain, Specter... Let's get out of here!

The three of them realize what is about to happen.

You... mixed-bloods... I will destroy—

The bishop's body begins to expand rapidly.

As his body grows, he swings his long appendages around in sweeping motions, smashing the walls of the cave to a crumble in an instant.

You... Urghh...

You push... your luck... too far...

The bishop's skull cracks open between his eyes.

His eyelids break off from his large eyeballs. The hunters' retreat is reflected in the glass objects that lie there.

Countless tentacles quickly bulge out from what had been its slender, frail body. They then swipe at these insects that it had once only ridiculed.

Seawater begins to fill the cave, just as the bishop's body continues to expand.

The bishop's wriggling destroys all of the equipment in its vicinity. Its body is no different than that of the Seaborn, yet the anger it exudes is undoubtedly human.

(Noisy and hurried twitching sounds)

How did he grow this big all of a sudden? What did he do to stuff all this meat in his body?

Ha, look. His head split into two. Remember, the right side is mine.

(Bizarre sounds)

How come you people are always howling...?

(Human speech-like sounds)

Act quick, or your prey will get away. Either that, or it will die at the hands of another hunter.

You...

(Sudden skeleton rocking sounds) ...You...

(Bubble popping sounds) ...Mixed-bloods...!

Look at him, so soreheaded that he can't even form a full sentence.

He's not human anymore. Preys like this one are only valuable when the hunters hunt them. Let's go! Go up!

The giant monster, once human, chases after the three miniscule hunters.

Its body is continuing to expand. It longs to destroy everything and to tear all that refutes its beliefs to shreds.

They all dash towards the end of this path upwards.

Meanwhile, the water beneath begins to surge upwards as the monster's body continues to grow until the water has finally reached the top of the path, the chapel.

The waves roil in the hunters' surroundings, sending splashes flying toward their fingers and feet—

The seawater brushes their fingertips.

They have made it home.

Er...

What's... going on?

The earth is shaking... Is it the hill next to the shore? Looks like something's falling. I can see it through the window here. Is that... the chapel?

Ahh—The house is shaking too. My box, the food... Grandma Petra!

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

Everyone, please head outside with me at once! It's dangerous to stay inside—

Eh, what am I doing, wasting my breath!

Alright, come—

Huh, Inquisitor... You lifted Grandma Petra up in one go?!

Stop standing around! I know you understand what I'm saying! Do you have any idea how old this house is? It's going to collapse after a few quakes!

I'm not sure what's happening at the chapel, but they went there... Things might even... Ugh! Whatever happens next, it's not going to be my problem!

Drywall, Brick, Stonecolumn, Uncle Fireplace! Take my hand! Drywall, bring a few more people with you...!

Follow the Inquisitor! Let's get out!

Phew...

Finally... Looks like everyone made it.

The hill... The chapel.

Food...

Food...

Priest...

You're still worried about that wolf in sheep's clothing?!

It's like you don't know who put you in this situation... Ugh... Very well! You, stop where you are! Come back!

Mm... Ugh...

Grandma Petra... Did you open your eyes? I'm here, Grandma...

Hey, watch out!

R-Rocks! They're falling from the roof—

Uh, Inquisitor, did you block that for us?

You...

The elderly woman grips tightly onto the Inquisitor's sleeve.

Grandma Petra is looking at you, Inquisitor. She's thanking you.

Hold on tighter, then...

You're bleeding.

Tsk... It was that bash I took just now. It kinda hurts, too.

You helped me when the Sea Terror attacked me, too. We'll call ourselves even.

Why am I even doing this to begin with...? It's not like any of you are ever scared of anything. You don't even run away when your lives are in danger. Does that even count as being alive?

Her song... is still stuck in my head.

Inquisitor, the singer isn't here. Is that going to be a problem?

Problem...? Hmph, I guess what you think is a problem isn't that kind of problem.

You know what she's like... If she does actually have a problem, I'm sure the answer to your question wouldn't be too shabby.

If you want to know how that will turn out, you'll just have to wait. Perhaps she will... actually give you a decent answer.

We're almost there to the chapel!

It isn't stopping!

The tentacles reach upwards, crushing all the falling rocks into dust. The gravels collide into the surrounding walls and cause them to fissure.

Specter's saw is rumbling, and the moment the tentacles draw near her, a smirk appears on her face.

I wonder how long it has been since I had to take on a prey like you? This is becoming delightful.

Specter swings her saw in one horizontal stroke, striking it on the wall. A huge hole appears in the granite rockface.

She uses the momentum to flip herself up. At the same time, the saw traces a grayish path beneath her that intersects a tentacle.

A sharp slicing sound rings through the air, slicing the tentacle in two.

With her hair fluttering in the air, the 'nun' grabs what had been a part of the stairs and pushes before continuing her dash toward the chapel.

She gazes at the cross section of the tentacle. A few tiny spores are bulging out of that translucent white area.

Do you hear that? Its cells are screaming just like us.

It has emotions. It used to be an Ægir... No. No more, and it could hardly be called one before.

Suddenly, the tip of its severed tentacle releases the spores, and several sharp-edged streams of liquid gush out toward the hunters.

Skadi flips her sword and presses the blade against her body as a shield.

The three liquid streams hit the blade, pushing Skadi back by several meters. The liquid splashes onto the rockface nearby, boring a few small holes before evaporating.

The pressure's even higher than the waterjet on my workbench.

It's looking at us.

Think of something. Is this thing going to keep growing without end?

All of a sudden, the eyes on the head of the 'bishop' let out a strange beam.

Energy beam?!

That moment, Gladiia's lance slashes the sight organs of the 'bishop.'

A hard membrane layer immediately covers the monster's eyes. The lance's tip leaves a long trail of scar on the membrane.

She then leaps upward as the monster howls in vexation below.

The hunters are almost there to the bottom of the building; the chapel's floor has already crumbled away during their fierce battle. There are only a few seconds left until they make it to the top.

However, Gladiia slows down.

Swordfish?

We're almost done. Going by its size and weight, this should do the trick.

Get ready.

The monster's body lets out a strange sound. The noise of the mountain collapsing and its strange howl are mingled together as they reverberate throughout the chapel.

Yet its hunt has come to an abrupt end.

How could this be...

The monster is confident.

Its power comes from the sea. Their assault is unstoppable. All they have to do is reach out to their consciousness, and the answer will reveal itself.

Its tentacles can almost reach the nun's leg. It will pull her down onto the ground, drag her back, and tear her apart—

Yet it cannot reach her.

It realizes its tentacles cannot extend any further. That difference of four centimeters between it and its prey feels as wide as the deep trenches of the sea.

As her saw revolves in the air, the nun quickly twists herself around, like seagrass in a turbulent current. She tilts her weapon downwards, ready to counter! It mustn't give her this opportunity... It mustn't give them any chances at all!

The bishop is starting to fret. That is, if his blood temperature allows for that.

It needs to evolve. It must evolve further! Its inner shell should still be able to expand further and break free from its flesh!

It should be able to fill its signum with blood before ejecting it in all directions like spikes... Its neural system should be able to release electric currents, and the tips of its tentacles should be able to harden and be used as weapons!

Its body should not be rooted to the bottom of the sea! It should be able to move. Yes, it should move, and it should then be able to slither and swim among the rubble, leap upward, pull their bodies into its coils and crush them!

Evolve! It must evolve... and evolve!

But, suddenly, it 'remembers' the Seaborn, and it realizes, that Seaborn was unconcerned about its life.

The tribe will continue, their future is prolonged. Their descendants will evolve... Their descendants. Its descendants. Descendants.

Not itself.

The bishop's ability to reason is frozen dead in its already dissolved skull.

Evolution is something that concerns the entire group for generations to come. It has nothing to do with itself individually.

It will die.

Its only plausible outcome is to die here in despair.

No, do the Seaborn despair? Are its hopes being shattered only because it had been an Ægir?

It starts to struggle desperately with its external tentacles while its inner ones reach out to its consciousness.

It no longer understands anything. It cannot begin to understand. Just what was it that pushed it to surpass what had been its kinsmen, spurred its growth, and led it to its downfall?

This is as far as it can grow. The Sea Terrors are making their way here by following its pheromones, but they won't be here in time. They are not fast enough... It won't reach those rich nutrients in time.

The Seaborn are not God...

They are a different kind of organism, and so is it. This is as far as it gets. Its body will feed the sea.

Having finally come to this realization, the bishop screams in terror, but its lungs have already been transformed into a kind of filtration organ. All it can do is hopelessly let its cysts continue their beating.

An intense stream of gas gushes out of its mouth. It desperately curls its all-too-long body. The gas that streams out lets out a sharp shriek as it passes through the beast's layers of teeth, sending the entire chapel trembling.

But the monster is unable to escape.

It is prey.

And the hunters have already found their prey.

Now!

This is payback for everything you've done to me...! You could say I've really gone easy on you!

Don't let it get away.

We've made a pretty big ruckus already...

We'll let you off the hook for the other Hunters, bishop.

But this one strike is for my family and my friends, of both the sea and lands, all of whom you murdered.

Die, bastard.

Like flowers blossoming in the sea, the hunters slam downwards straightaway with the stone cold weapons in their hands.

The bishop makes an attempt to retreat back to its cave. Prey animals tend to think their nests are the safest of all locations. This response was etched into their bodies tens of thousands of years ago.

As the enormous creature pulls away, the path begins to collapse as it twists and turns. The mountain crumbles away like cake, large chunks of rock falling down like crumbs.

The bishop flees. It is fast, so fast that it has exceeded the limitations of living organisms. Its body possesses all the qualities that predators and survivalists could only dream of.

As long as it makes it back to its nest and seals off the path, its enemies will have no way to follow it, and it will swallow them as they sleep.

All it needs to do is make it back to its nest.

But it is all too late.

In their swift fall downwards, the hunters look just like—

—Shooting stars.

A sight that those who live in the deep seas rarely have the opportunity to witness.

With his desires and plans clouding his head, the bishop has, of course, never looked up at the night sky to enjoy that spectacle.

But they are different.

When the Abyssal Hunters had to fight for their lives and escape from the melancholy and sacrifice, they swam upwards, and when they finally reached the surface, they could only solemnly gaze upon the star-filled night sky... The Hunters have all etched the destinies of these short-lived stars into their hearts.

Despite everything, the darkness can still be broken.

Now die.

The three shooting stars illuminate the deep passageway.

The bishop is horrified. It has no lungs and no vocal tracts. This thundering sound is as close as it gets to a scream for its current body.