level_act18mini_st03

Stay close to me, Ollie!

You've got to stick close if you don't want me carrying you! Grab onto my clothes, okay?

Mummy can't hold your hand right now... my palms are all slippery with sweat! So, grab on tight to my clothes.

(Nods)

Colin! Colin?! Where are you? Is there a way out?

Oh no, oh no! This isn't going to work! We should head back home and hide! Ollie's too little for this!

Colin—

Ah!

Over here! I found a way! The Exemplars are drawing the devils away! If we can avoid the explosions—

'Avoid the explosions'?! Do you remember how Schwall from the grocer tripped and fell on that patch of red glow?

It was only a palm-sized wound, but it bled him dry. Did you forget?

It's like the blood was sucked right out of him... Can you really call that just an 'explosion'?

It's because his wound never healed! We'll be fine as long as we're careful not to get cut or scraped.

The one thing we can't do, is turn back.

The explosion just now sounded too close! I'd rather head back than die halfway without knowing what's happening.

Your grandmother's still in the city—

Going back now would only mean more danger.

You're—

We can't say for sure that all the Sarkaz have left the lockdown zone.

You came from outside? Are you with the Exemplars? Are you here to help us? Please!

...Sorry, I'm not with the Exemplars, and I'm not here to rescue people.

I only came to Londinium to look for someone.

Who could be so important that you'd wear out your shoes running around Londinium at a time like this looking for them?

But if you're not with the Exemplars, then you're just another poor sod like us. Let's go back, Colin...

*sigh*

The man sighs and looks around cautiously.

The optician has returned to Londinium for the first time in many years. But the view he sees now is as if he is looking at the city through a lens in the heat of his workshop, blurred and distorted.

By the time the image clears up, the only thing he can see is chaos. Trying to find an elusive presence in this bedlam will be no easy task, let alone someone whose appearance he does not even know.

Could you show us the way out, good sir? I'll give you everything I have!

If you managed to enter the lockdown zone without a scratch, you must know a safe route. Please...

The gaunt man empties his pockets, takes out a few pieces of bread from a bag, and tries to stuff them into Nowell's hands. The woman also takes out what few coins she has on her.

Nowell does not take them. He shakes his head, knowing that it is a thin line that separates these three people from the exsanguinated corpse by the roadside.

And he stands behind that tiny divide, always a spectator.

He has tried to reach out before, but his hands cannot save everyone.

I'm sorry...

Sir!

Let's go, Colin. It's no use...

There's no other way!

...I'm not with the Exemplars, but I know where their camp is.

I can take you there.

...! Th-Thank you! Thank you so much!

But that's all I can do.

I-It's plenty! We'll go with you!

What about your grandmother, Colin?

We'll come back for her once it's all over. The devils may be cruel, but even they wouldn't hurt the helpless old folks in the Sanatorium...

Right?

I'll lead you out. After that...

You're on your own.

That's plenty, good sir, I couldn't possibly ask for any more. Thank you so much!

...No need to thank me. Grab your child and follow me.

This way.

This path will take you straight to the city walls.

The Exemplars have set up camp around a breach in the wall.

You could also seek refuge with the ducal alliance's army outside.

We...

What about you, sir? I gather you aren't coming with us.

You saved our lives. I don't know how you did it, but if there's anything we can do for you...

No need. My wounds have healed.

Even—even with your unique talents, the cannons won't show you any more mercy than they do us. You should come with us... you're Victorian too.

No. I've... I've come this far.

I have to find the one I'm looking for. I have no reason to stop.

You mentioned you were looking for someone. Who?

This is not the first time she's asked, but it is the first time she hears something other than calmness in his voice.

The numerous wounds the man took, which should have killed him many times over, have all healed. Any bleeding quickly stopped, and even Sarkaz Arts Circles could not affect him.

Only the pain persists. Even so, he clenches his fist.

I'm looking for...

The one who gave me this 'talent'.

Wh-What do we do, sir?

This way. I'll shield you. Leave before the next barrage begins—

O-Out of the way!

Today I'm finally getting out of this hellhole!

Out of the way!

Stay back, sir.

Children and the elderly have priority.

The hell they do—

The Self-Salvation Corps' evacuation route is the safest way. If you insist on leaving on your own...

Be my guest.

...Who are you?

Me? I'm the leader of the Londinium Self-Salvation Corps. You can call me Clovisia.

I heard someone has been helping evacuate the citizens in this district. We appreciate your assistance.

The Self-Salvation Corps will take it from here.

I can still help.

It's dangerous. We can't ask you to risk your life for others.

We cannot promise a reward either.

No, you don't understand.

I'm afraid we don't have time to discuss this...

*sigh*

Long story short, let's just say I've got a sort of curse on me. There's no need to worry about my safety. I'll cover you to help more people evacuate.

Besides, I'm still looking for someone here.

That's the last of them...

Where is that Self-Salvation Corps leader... Clovisia?

Nowell looks around and grabs a man who looks like a worker passing by.

Excuse me—

Ouch!

...Sorry. I didn't notice that your other arm was injured.

I can treat your wound if you like.

Never mind. What do you want?

Have you seen Clovisia, the leader of the Self-Salvation Corps?

She was leading groups of citizens being evacuated. We agreed to meet back here before splitting up, but I haven't seen her.

The citizens have been led to safety. As for her, she's probably still organizing the final evacuation efforts.

I can't be sure, though. We're all busy, after all.

So she was here earlier?

Seems like your routes are quicker and safer than mine.

We know the Londinium underground better, but nothing's completely safe.

Clovisia is needed at the frontline, guiding citizens away from the remaining Sarkaz mercs. You might find her in the lockdown zone, if you're not afraid of the devils' traps.

You seem to have rescued quite a few people yourself. You might be able to help out.

...Thank you.

—Sir! Good sir!

Have you seen my Ollie? My son, with the red-hair. Quiet boy, only about as tall as my knee. Have you seen him?

What?

My son, he's gone... I lost him!

Ollie—

Bloody hell, where did he go?

He kept asking about your grandmother, Colin... Maybe he was worried...

Have you searched the area?

Y-Yes! The folks who came with us helped out too. The only place left is the lockdown zone, but...

That doesn't bother me. I'll go.

But Clovisia is—

Just tell her I've already brought those people out safely.

I'll go with you!

No, you stay here.

No, I mean Clovisia is back!

With a red-haired child in her arms!

—What? Where are they?

Everyone looks in the direction the man is pointing.

That was when everything went wrong...

No...

—Everybody, get back!

It's Ollie! She has Ollie!

Don't go!

Nowell only has time to grab the hysterical woman.

A flash of red as far as the eye can see, and then the ground opens up like a gaping maw, swallowing the leader of the Self-Salvation Corps.

All eyes are trained on the epicenter of the tremor. The one within it holds the child tightly in her arms until the very end.

The dust cloud disperses, and all is quiet again, for now.

Partings like this have become a familiar sight to the people here. The outcome never changes, regardless of the victim.

*cough* *cough*...

Wait! Keep your distance—

Nowell knows all too well that there can sometimes be secondary explosions or aftershocks.

Ollie... Ollie!

...Get...

Get a search party together! Anyone who can still move!

S-Sir! You're still here! Please, help Ollie—

You're not afraid of the devils' traps, your wounds heal quickly, and you're so brave... Could you at least, b-bring him back...

He's still so little...

In Nowell's long life, there have been precious few things he was able to control. He has an ocean of memories, but it is not up to him which ones float to the surface.

Like an ordinary mortal, he can be distracted by flashbacks of the past that seem to overlap with the present as he gathers the weight of all those years.

This will do.

Are you sure this is where we stop? Are you sure...

...you won't stay?

He's still so little...

My youngest child, he doesn't even know the word 'grandpa' yet...

...Too long.

It's been too long, my child.

I should have gone with your mother, but I've waited so long, long enough for you to grow older than your father.

I've accomplished nothing, spent my life in hesitation, and lingered in this world for far too long. So long, in fact, that I've become a stranger to the children.

If there is one way to end my fate as a bystander...

Now is the time.

Nowell looks towards the scene of the explosion and collapse. In the hole formed from brick and rubble, he seems to see visions of a dark mire from a century past.

It was a morning like this. He had heard the same pleading, which he had, stubbornly, chosen to ignore, instead setting upon a path in search of a death that could never come. This time...

He will not make the same choice again.

...Clovisia shielded the child's head before she fell.

Sir—

There's at least a chance that Ollie survived, but no more than a chance. But that's enough...

I will go and find them.

Guided by the Self-Salvation Corps, Nowell attempts to enter the underground ruins, helped by his years of experience and sheer immortality.

About three hundred meters to the west...

His steps are light and brisk, never stopping, until the sight before his eyes changes.

A red-headed child lies quietly beside a pile of collapsed rubble, near the remnants of an activated Arts Circle.

(Soft breathing)

He hurries forward and takes the child into his arms. The boy's chest rises and falls rhythmically with his breathing.

He could have been asleep in bed, if not for the ash and gravel in his hair.

Phew...

Just passed out, no serious injuries. He was left here by himself, but he didn't fall here directly...

Looks like I made it in time.

Clovisia could be nearby. She put Ollie here—

Clovisia! Are you there?

If you hear me, knock on something hard—

Clovisia?

Can you...

He takes a few steps, and comes face-to-face with the truth.

The young Self-Salvation Corps leader is half-buried in rubble, not stirring in the slightest.

Her eyelids are shut gently, naturally, as though she is only sleeping. Will she sleep here forever, underground?

A moment of pain in a fall that lasted seconds at most, leaving behind only peace. Nowell could not help but think—

'If I could die, would I die with the same expression on my face?'

Clovisia!

—Argh!

The aftershock sends gravel flying, like a fowlbeast shaking off water after a rain. It is quick, scattered, and unpredictable.

Nowell did not even have time to check Clovisia for signs of life.

No...

As the place threatens to shake itself apart, he bends over and protects the child from falling rocks with his own body. The sharper pieces easily pierce his clothes and skin, digging deep into flesh and bone.

He remains unmoving, clenching his teeth, waiting for the tremors to cease.

*sob*...

He is awakened from his pained trance by the sound of crying.

The boy had awoken to find himself in a dark, unfamiliar underground space. Following his instincts, he began to cry helplessly.

Good morning, Ollie.

It'll be okay. Everything will be okay. I'm here... it's Nowell.

*cough*, *cough*...

We've met before, remember?

The aftershocks cease. Carrying Ollie with one hand and supporting himself with the other, he forces himself to sit up, pushing the weight off his back.

Fortunately, it is broken fragments of rock rather than a single, heavy slab, but he can still taste blood in his mouth as he moves.

In his arms, the child shakes his head helplessly in the darkness, hardly able to see anything.

...Clovisia.

She saved your life... I'll get you out safely.

Then I'll come back... to bring her back. This is no resting place for her.

Nowell sits down, puts the trembling boy on the ground, and reaches behind to pull the fragments out from his own back.

The boy grabs Nowell's clothes.

Don't worry, I'm not leaving you behind.

(Shakes head)

It's okay. It won't kill me.

Nothing can.

A smile, understood only by him, appears on his lips. Meanwhile, his fingers locate the final fragment, lodged between his scapula.

He grits his teeth and pulls it out.

Argh...

Did I spook you, Ollie? Sorry.

Don't worry. Come with me, and I'll get you out. Whatever it takes.

Enduring pain had become a habit. Nowell lifts the child again and searches his memory for a path that will take them to safety.

I came from... this way.

Hang in there, Ollie. We'll get you out soon. Your parents are waiting—

(Shakes head)

What is it?

(Struggles)

Uh—

You want to get down? It's quicker and safer if I carry you. Don't you want to see your mum sooner?

(Jumps down)

...Alright. Stick close to me, and don't let go.

The child nods and grabs the corner of Nowell's clothes. He even wraps it around his palm tightly without being told, indicating that he understands Nowell.

Alright. Let's—

...You have walked a long path...

...Poor soul...

Suddenly, he hears an ethereal voice echoing in every direction.

A mist spreads in the darkness, surrounding him.

Why have you come?

Nowell can recognize that voice anywhere.

He cannot move. A sudden, cold fury buffets his reason, nailing him to the spot.

What do you want?

Stop.

He does not know why the voice chose this moment to appear. Instinctive mistrust overcomes all judgment.

Stop your parlor tricks.

I thought you wanted to meet me.

What are you talking about?!

Who are you? Where are you?

I am here. You came for me, and I came for you.

All you need to do... is open your eyes.

Nowell has never seen the owner of the voice, nor gathered any clues about their appearance. Over the long years, all he could do was to piece together rumor after rumor, letting questions simmer into hatred.

If this voice is real and not his imagination, then it must...

Is that so? Then I'm sure you can tell me...

Are you the wish-granting fairy? Or the powerful 'Nation's Sentinel'?

The unicorn, hidden in the shadows of history, is both benefactor and villain.

I am all that, and none of that.

I am merely here now to promise reparation to you, poor soul.

You don't even know my name. What I went through must have been insignificant, hardly a footnote to a legend like you, compared to the affairs you've meddled with.

That is untrue.

You harbored a possibility that I placed hope in. How would one little weed of unknown breed grow if it never wilts? And how will it affect the lands around it?

That was my thought when I bestowed immortality upon you. What should have been a blessing.

Blessing. Pft.

Your arrogant 'blessing' has brought me nothing but an eternity of pain.

...That was not my intention.

But that's what it became. Death by a thousand cuts, except you wouldn't even let me die!

It's nothing but a curse!

I understand your anger.

Tell me. What will make you feel better?

...Hah.

What, will you 'bestow' another 'blessing' upon me?

Nowell can feel the child grab his clothes even tighter.

Can you hear me, Ollie?

(Nods)

This voice is a liar. Don't listen to it. Don't think about it.

I'll take you out of here.

Whoever you are, you can ask those legendary heroes who dance with you. Me, I'm leaving.

Few are those who hold the helm in the tides of history.

Are you complaining? To me?

...If you consider my blessing a curse, I might offer you reparations.

Make a wish. What is it that you want?

A name, thinks Nowell. Just a name. This bastard, this villain who stands ever on high because of her powers, has long forgotten the weed's name.

You have a chance... You have already gained much more than the common man.

She must be filled with pity as she gazes upon me—

'You poor, insignificant creature. I will help you. I will help you, always.'

'Let us wipe away the tragic past with a beautiful future.'

Haha.

Have you made up your mind?

Let's go, Ollie. We've wasted enough time here.

(Grabs Nowell's clothes tightly)

Yes, child, I'm here.

Don't be afraid of the voice. It's just a bad guy, no different from the ones ravaging the city above.

I'll come back to catch it later. But first, I need to get you out.

Phew...

—It's Ollie! Mr. Nowell found him!

Over here! A hand!

Careful, child.

I'll lift you up. Take it easy—

No worries, sir! I'm up here! I'll grab him!

Your turn, Mr. Nowell! Are you hurt? Do you need a hand?

No need.

Nowell clambers up friskily, but stops at the edge of the tunnel entrance rather than walking towards the crowd gathered not too far away.

He looks up again at the sun shrouded by thick clouds. It is one of countless sunrises he has seen, but this one is a little different, because of those who have lived to see it.

Ollie! My baby!

Oh, the fright you gave me! Next time, I'm holding onto you and never letting go... I won't let this happen again!

Wh-Where did this blood come from? Are you hurt?

(Shakes head)

Strange, I don't see any wounds...

(Looks at Nowell)

Ollie, where's the lady who found you first? Is she still...

(Shakes head)

She wasn't down there?

(Shakes head)

Oh, you're always like this... Well, it's all good. I'm so glad you came back safely.

Thank you so much, Mr. Nowell—

The man waves at Nowell with something other than anxiety or panic on his face.

It is a smile of gratitude, with a sincerity that makes Nowell awkward. All he can do is nod and smile back.

You're... welcome...

But the man keeps walking until he is right in front of him, and reaches out a hand, as though words alone cannot express his gratitude. And so Nowell keeps the smile on his face and shakes the extended hand, almost unconsciously.

Only then does he finally realize that pain is spreading, from his back to his chest to the rest of his body. He has difficulty breathing and bends down, grabbing his own collar.

The wounds he received from the rubble have still not started to heal.

—Sir? Are you okay?!

My goodness, your back! I didn't realize you were so badly injured—we have to find a doctor!

Oh, how silly of me, you're a doctor yourself...

I'm... injured?

Th-The wound on your back! It's still bleeding! It's so big... and there's more than one!

Are they not healing yet?

N-No. That's normal for us, but I suppose it must be strange to you.

What happened down there? How did you get hurt?

That leader of the Self-Salvation Corps is down there too, isn't she?

She protected Ollie. I have to do something for her... At least bring her body back.

Clovisia.

Her name was Clovisia? That does ring a bell now that you mention it. I didn't even get a good look at her before it all happened.

I heard she was a great woman.

I'm the leader of the Londinium Self-Salvation Corps. You can call me Clovisia.

'I am all that, and none of that.'

We cannot promise a reward either.

'I am merely here now to promise reparation to you, poor soul.'

I'm afraid we don't have time to discuss this...

'Tell me. What will make you feel better?'

A great woman?

Hah...

I don't...

I don't know.

Clovisia... he had passed right by the one he spent his entire life looking for, without even realizing it.

But it is no longer important. With great effort, Nowell looks up, fighting against the pain and difficulty of breathing.

In his blurry vision, he sees a child clutching his mother's hand tightly. The boy is the very picture of health, his hair and skin a warm color, with a smile on his face, just like...

I-I'll take you to the Self-Salvation Corps! Or the Exemplars! They must have medics!

No...

What? Why?

Just like the sun.

M-Mr. Nowell! Are you okay?

Hang in there!

Nowell falls to his knees, no longer able to support his own weight. It is as though the fatigue of a hundred years of wandering has come upon him in an instant.

Before his hands and feet grow cold from blood loss, he curls his body down, ignoring the searing pain as the wounds on his back stretch, until his head touches the ground.

It is a posture of worship and reverence, but he is not praying to anyone.

He lifts his head after a little while.

The leader of the Self-Salvation Corps was not in the ruins.

The pain lingers, as does the urge to cry his heart out. But all is silent, and only the beating of the heart resonates in his chest.

The thing that would make him happy, the thing that can kill him... it is already here.

What was that?

Clovisia wasn't there.

What about your injuries—

Right now, rather than spending my time on futile efforts...

I should spend it on saving more people.