level_act21side_st04

Ugh, my tail's all wet.

Nothing's changed at all. Neither these filthy streets, nor this damned rain.

Dunno what it is, but even though the snow in Ursus can kill people, the rain here's somehow more unpleasant.

Hope there's a hairdryer at my master's place...

Her master's house is located at the end of this alley. Years ago, Crownslayer stormed off in a rage to prove that she was strong enough to take revenge on the conspiracies looming over her.

Now, Lyudmila has returned once more. Whether or not her efforts have poked a hole through that gloomy sky, she cannot yet say.

Possibly, nothing at all has changed. Possibly, she has become an accomplice to an even greater calamity.

But luckily, Lyudmila is still able to return to this place. She thinks to herself, surely her teacher will be able to tell her what to do next.

At that moment, she suddenly feels a chill.

At first, Lyudmila assumes it is because she is nervous about facing her teacher again.

But just as quickly, she realizes that she was wrong.

She starts to shake uncontrollably, on the spot.

Maestro!

The thick, inescapable stench of blood.

Her teacher lies face-up on the ground, fresh blood still flowing outward and spreading.

A small knife has been dropped nearby.

Lyudmila tries to approach and stifle her teacher's still-bleeding wound, but she finds herself unable to move a single step, unable to even tear away her gaze.

From the shadows wafts an aura that is both familiar and terrifying to her.

A wolf with gray hair, wearing a red hoodie.

The true wolf is dead. I did as Grandmother asked.

It's you.

What... have you done?!

I am a wolf hunter. I do as Grandmother asks.

The true wolf is dead. The true wolf did not fight.

Cazzo!

I'll kill you!

Hm... I promised Kal'tsit to only kill wolves. You are not a wolf.

Hm. Was she your Kal'tsit? That's why you smell of wolf.

*gasp*... *gasp*... You know she couldn't fight anymore, so why?!

Grandmother said. These are the rules of the game.

And now, she's out.

I have to go. There are other wolves here. I have to find them.

(Sniffs the air.)

But, another wolf is out of the game. Is someone faster than me?

Don't you dare leave!

The wolf in the red hoodie does not respond to Lyudmila's cries. She hums a fragmented ditty, flitting past Lyudmila with brisk steps.

Lyudmila's outstretched hand grasps only thin air.

She suddenly remembers what her teacher once told her:

'Lyudmila, do you know what it means to be my student?'

'I'm become decrepit and weak now. Are you still willing to be my student, and my tool?'

'We will both regret it, ragazza.'

Lyudmila falls to her knees.

'Drink deep of the suffering of the deceased'...

A performance worthy of Signorina Caterina! Well worth the wait!

So we finally know that Cellinia, the ideal Siracusan, was just a fantasy concocted by the collective Siracusan consciousness.

But because she was so well-known by the public as a symbol of perfection, her existence was reasonable enough to explain away through the common imagination.

I was blown away by the big reveal at the end. She never existed at all!

What a profound conclusion.

After the incident with that broadcast a while ago, and everything that followed over the next twelve hours, I thought that was going to be the end of Volsinii.

But despite all that, here we are enjoying such a fantastic production. Così è la vita!

You can say that again.

Phew, I thought the sky was going to fall.

Who would've ever expected things to unfold like that?

So, are you planning to move over to the new city?

Depends. But, if Signorina Caterina's plays are still available over in the new city, I could see myself heading over.

A city without famiglie, huh? Growing up, I never even dared to imagine a future like that.

Now that you mention it...

Did you know that Signorina Caterina is working on something completely new?

A new production?

That's right. The title of it alone is enough to get my blood pumping.

It's called: 'I Siracusani.'

A shovel digs into the dirt. Then again.

Leontuzzo is struggling to dig a grave in the cemetery.

Next to him is a coffin in which his father, Bernardo, sleeps.

Today is the funeral of Bernardo, the former don of Famiglia Bellone.

A funeral for one of the Dodici dons should have seen the entire cemetery packed to the fences.

But, not a single soul will mourn the passing of a man who betrayed his famiglia, his city, and his society.

Leontuzzo also asked Lavinia and the others not to come.

This is his last farewell to his father.

Padre mio, how would you be seen by future generations?

As a man who ushered in a new era, or as a man who betrayed the old one?

I guess that all depends on how well I do, haha.

You've passed one hell of a weight onto my shoulders.

But, I guess that means I'm a worthy son. And that I'm a sucker here to clean up your mess.

Leontuzzo continues to chat animatedly as if his father is still alive with him as he digs.

But other than that, he doesn't know what else to say.

Oh right, Signora Sicilia agreed to my request.

There will be no famiglie in the new nomadic city.

I guess a part of your dream did come true.

After talking with Signora Sicilia, I think I finally understand her a bit better.

Seems like she wouldn't mind taking Siracusa with her to the grave.

It doesn't bother her at all that Siracusa can only enjoy a semblance of peace while she's alive, because for her, Siracusa doesn't need a future.

How should I put this...? Signora Sicilia is more like the caretaker of a bygone era than an actual ruler.

The reason she was willing to give me a chance was just because she decided it was worth a try. Nothing more, nothing less.

What a terrifying being.

Phew... I thought I'd be here all day digging your grave, but it turns out it wasn't so hard.

Enough space has been made in the ground to accommodate the coffin. The last thing that remains is to lower it in.

Leontuzzo walks to the front of the coffin, hesitates for a moment, but finally reaches out his hands.

The coffin is extremely heavy, and pushing it is a very demanding task.

Just as his strength is about to waver, he is suddenly joined by a pair of helping hands.

Leontuzzo turns his head, and sees Demetri right next to him.

Demetri, you...

Demetri says nothing, simply taking an object that shines with a silvery light out from his coat and tossing it into the grave.

It's a pocket watch.

The Don... he gave it to me.

And now, I guess it's been returned to its original owner.

You've already apologized to me, Leontuzzo.

But, even if I can forgive you, our fratelli who died in that conflict could never forgive you.

Even if Famiglia Bellone is gone, I won't forget them.

I hear you plan to organize a new famiglia.

Most of the guys who survived left already, but some stayed behind, and they need a place to go.

Even for you, that's one ass-backwards famiglia.

That's how it should be.

You're walking down a thorny path.

I know.

And eventually, I will stand in your way.

I know.

So, don't go dying on me.

The rain continues to come down hard, but Leontuzzo can still faintly hear a soft 'Leon' at the end of that last sentence.

Same to you, Demetri.

He lifts his head, and lets the raindrops strike his face.

You won't be needing most of this furniture anymore, right?

Guess not. Famiglia Bellone is no more.

Most of the old associates have already left. After all... it's not an easy thing to stomach getting betrayed by your own don.

Bernardo, who practically stood on the highest pinnacle of a famiglia's rule, has repudiated the very existence of famiglie.

He also repudiated many things once seen as priceless.

Honor, trust, loyalty, dedication to the famiglia...

Did my father teach each and every wise guy those rules without ever believing in them himself?

...I don't know.

I've been thinking a lot about it, the last few days. Did I ever know the real Bernardo Bellone?

The artistic director of Compagnia dell'alba was one mask that he wore. The cunning Don Bellone was another.

Then, is it not possible that the smiling, bright-eyed Bernardo who once shared his ideals with me was just another mask?

But, it doesn't matter. Not anymore.

Leon, the two of you, together, gave a chance for that new city to truly be born.

I guess so.

The movers will be here soon.

Alright.

None of this has been in vain, Leon.

I know.

In the new city area... Or, I guess it's a proper city now, we'll build something new.

Something brand new, that Siracusa has never seen before.

An order that belongs to everyone.

Leontuzzo looks at Lavinia, his eyes shining with determination.

Civilization.

Each wolf, from its moment of birth, knows that its existence is a symbol of the wastelands.

After countless eras and countless conflicts, they finally selected the alpha wolf through the rules of the game as it had been played up to that point.

For Zaaro, his defeat this round was, undoubtedly, a disgrace.

But they will continue to live on.

As long as there is another round of the game to be played, he will stage his comeback in time.

To this end, he has already started searching for suitable candidates.

And almost immediately, he found Lappland, wandering the wastes after having left Volsinii.

However—

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

Are you done napping yet, Zaaro?

Zaaro and Lappland have been fighting in the wastes for the past three months.

During that time, Zaaro had countless opportunities to sink his fangs into the neck of this madwoman.

There was no way for her to defeat him.

But, he gradually comes to realize, it is actually he who has no way of defeating her.

No thought can be nourished in her blood and sinew, no victory can be proclaimed in her head, and no meaning can be derived from her death.

She is an empty husk that has been filled.

Is she also the wastes?

No, she is an overgrowth.

He understands in an instant that if Bernardo's betrayal was an unexpected act of rationality, the being before him is completely beyond his comprehension.

No, he has seen humans like her before. She is hardly unique.

But at this unique point in time, she indeed is the only such one before him.

An omen.

A summon.

And thus, for the first time in thousands of years and perhaps the last time, the incarnation of the wastes lies down next to a human being.

He chooses to surrender his dignity to the unknown.

Done fighting?

Our battle will continue for thousands upon thousands of years.

Until the victor is decided, I will walk with you.

Hah. Whatever you say.

Lappland's weapons slip from her grasp. She has already lost consciousness.

Before she falls, Zaaro walks over and supports her body with his own, as if it is the most natural thing to do.

Texas, we've chosen different paths to destroy Siracusa.

I'm so looking forward to seeing you again.

She closes her eyes, and falls into a deep slumber.

The vast wilderness is completely devoid of anything else. For a brief moment, it seems as if all existence between heaven and earth is but one human and one wolf.

Savagery.