level_act18side_08_end

Stupid, foolish boy...

You didn't have to do this.

Why would you go so far for a world that owes you so much?

Sir?!

You must leave now! Originium activity is rising rapidly in this area!

I want to see my grandson one last time.

Only a little further, Hibiscus. Distract him...

Kreide, grandpa's here.

You...

Kreide, my boy.

Vent whatever anger you have on me.

Come to me, before you do any more harm!

I've deceived you for so many years... I thought about dying for your sake, but I never thought you would come to an end like this.

If your choice is to let the others live, why not let me come with you in my last days?

Let me join you on your final journey, my boy!

The crystalline monster no longer understands the old man's words.

The flash of lucidity was a fleeting miracle. All the monster can think about now is dragging everything around it into emptiness, dancing to his cello's tune.

The monster follows the sound, playing a song of death.

Sir?!

Young lady, why do you—

I'll hold down the fort here, Ebenholz. Now!

Ha!

How?!

Friendship, dedication, sacrifice—such childish ideals should have been shattered upon contact with reality. How? How?!

It's not over yet!

Kreide may have forcibly assimilated two verses of the Voice of Mundane, but he could not overcome the disorder and madness of their amalgamation!

Kreide's melody has faded, but Ebenholz's Voice lingers. I—

Argh!

Enough, Gräfin Strollo.

Gertrude's limp hand drops from the strings.

Biegler withdraws his dagger from Gertrude's back. The blood stains his clothes red.

The Originium outer shell cracks and falls apart.

The plaza falls silent, the only sound being inert pieces of Originium shell falling to the ground.

Finally, the shell shatters completely, leaving behind Kreide lying on the ground with his cello.

Wait for me... wait for me!

No! It's dangerous. We should call Infected Palliative Services...

What are you saying?!

Kreide won't die!

*cough*...

You're awake, Kreide!

See? He'll be fine!

Ebenholz...?

I'm here, it's me!

Don't... don't bother. I...

(Takes a deep breath)

I feel... so light...

It hurt so much... but I feel better now...

Yes, you'll get better... yes...

Listen carefully, Ebenholz. This is the last time I'll be able to talk to you.

Remember my words.

Live on, Ebenholz, and walk through the long night.

Fight injustice, and treat others with generosity and charity.

Only by doing so will I live on in your memory.

I'll ask you, how did your day go, Ebenholz?

And you'll tell me proudly that you had a good and productive day.

You'll tell me about the challenges you face while doing good, and complain about how fate is a miser.

And it will be okay, because I'll be listening.

It's alright to complain a little, when you've worked so hard.

Only by doing so will you rise above pain and suffering, and find peace in your heart.

Remember that we've fought together against cruel fate and won.

When you think of me, laugh. Don't cry.

Yes, yes!

And Ebenholz... I'm sorry.

I haven't thought about what token... to give you...

Anything's fine. Just don't die... please...

Kreide... Kreide...

Kreide!!!

They'll find themselves shattered someday, but that day is not today.

Friendship, dedication, sacrifice...

They may be naive, but someone will shed a tear for them.

What about you, though, Gräfin Strollo?

You destroyed your friendship with Czerny by your own hands.

You killed your own brother and laughed at his incompetence.

You want others to sacrifice for you, but what have you done for them?

Gertrude lies limp on the ground, with only her lips moving slightly.

'My curse be upon you.'

Biegler reads Gertrude's lips.

'May you die in a dark ditch.'

'May the madness of Ebenholz's bloodline haunt him forever.'

'May The Afterglow fall into ruin.'

'May Leithanien ever tremble in the shadow of the Witch King.'

'May the Witch King never know the peace of death.'

Pathetic.

Maybe I acted out of impulse, but dealing with threats to public safety is also part of my job.

I'll be sure to mention you in my report, Gräfin Strollo.

Good night. I hope your dreams don't involve cursing anybody.

Your hand's bleeding! Did you get scratched by Originium crystals?

Ah, yes... I guess there's a bit of blood...

You need treatment immediately—

Treatment? It's Kreide who needs treatment!

Ebenholz, he's...

Don't.

Don't say it, Hibiscus. I beg you...

Alright.

He... he's Infected, Ebenholz. If you don't want Palliative Services to get involved, at least find a room that's isolated, for his own sake.

I know, I know...

The lounge at the concert hall.

Alright, I'll take him there.

I will.

Come, Kreide. I'll carry you.

Ebenholz lifts Kreide up. The Originium crystals inflict more wounds on him, but he pays them no heed.

He carries his friend, even as he feels the body cooling, as though embracing a short but sweet dream.

We're almost there, Kreide.

Just a little longer.

Thank you.

You're—You're still alive!

I'll take you to Hibiscus—

Lay me to rest in this building.

If you return to The Afterglow someday, you'll remember that you once had a good friend, with whom you've laughed and argued here...

And at the last, put on a duet to remember.

No. You're not Kreide. You're—

Isn't this what you wanted?

Shut your mouth. I won't allow you to defile his memory.

Kreide gave his life to cleanse the Voice of Mundane, but it's still in my head?!

I warn you... don't think I'll hesitate to blow my own head off, if you dare imitate him one more time.

(Sighs)

My foolish bloodline.

Ebenholz no longer hears the voice.

He walks toward the lounge in Afterglow Hall, Kreide's body growing heavier in his arms with each step.

We're here.

I'll seal the room. Lie down on the sofa.

It's soft. It'll feel nice.

Sofa, soft...

You've never slept on one at home...

Looks like I've been infected.

Arts that once took so much effort now feel so simple. Maybe getting infected isn't so bad after all.

That should do it. I'll seal the door from the outside.

Anything else?

A token... yes, a token.

I'll take the cello.

Look at me, taking back something I bought for you.

Ebenholz's lips tremble.

He stands wordless for a moment before laying his flute at Kreide's side.

You said you wanted a coin with a hole, but the only thing I have left is this flute...

I'm sorry.

So sorry...