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You try to present a picture of calm.

The crowd is running. There are screams everywhere. They have hardly awakened from the last nightmare, before they are put into another great escape.

You brace yourself against the wall. Someone ran into you, hard. Someone pretty darned strong.

It all happened so quickly that you had no time to plan.

You had expected the worst the moment you failed to stop the first drop of blood from seeping into that curious citizen.

Even worse is that you and Amiya have become separated by the stampeding crowd.

It has been a long time since you last felt alone.

Stay calm!;......;Don't panic!

The screams drown out your voice. Nobody is listening to your commands.

Out of my way, out of my way!

Th-The monsters are coming!

Get out of my way!

Get away! There's blood on you! Like those monsters!

They are not your operators. They are just ordinary people.

Reason is a luxury in the face of death.

Doctor!

Doctor, I'm here! Grab my hand!

You finally hear a familiar voice.

Amiya!

Amiya tries to force her way through the panicking crowd, and reaches out her hand.

Grab my hand, Doctor.

You know that you are the one whom Amiya cares most deeply about, always.

You do not want to disappoint her.

You penetrate the crowd and extend your hand with all your strength.

......;You...;You're not Amiya!

You realize who it is standing before you, a moment before your hands touch.

Damazti...

...Why?

What should The King of Sarkaz look like?

You're not the one you once were.;......;I heard Logos's bone whistle.

The myriad souls still reject us.

However... a change has occurred. A part of us has left us.

We must make a choice... we cannot remain stagnant.

The Damazti approaches you, one step at a time.

You can feel that the one-time King of the Sarkaz Court has changed. He is no longer an idle observer.

He has begun moving forward.

Doctor!

...King of Sarkaz.

I tried to imitate you, but I failed.

A new Damazti...

Is this your choice? To formally stand against us?

We simply decided to try.

Hm—

Will we learn our meaning in battle against you, King of Sarkaz?

Where does our path lead?

Once... I asked the previous Damazti what I should do. He said I must overcome all doubt and hesitation.

If you still call me the King of Sarkaz after being reborn...

Then go find the answer yourself. You won't get it from me.

She is always at your side, smiling. It almost makes you forget that she is the true King of Sarkaz.

Dark Arts rumble. You find Amiya's presence downright imposing.

But still, you feel uneasy. Instincts tell you that this was no ordinary attack.

In just a short period of time, you have learned that the Duke of Windermere, defender of the frontiers, is no pushover.

She had her flagship break off from the fleet in order to save her daughter. This was an opportunity.

But the rest of the fleet was not so far away. The tactical advantage in attacking a ducal vessel is limited... unless this was a decapitation operation.

No, killing a duke only makes her men angrier. There is more to Theresis's plan.

Plus, this ship is home to more than just the duke's elite guards; you and your friends are here.

The King of Sarkaz is here.

Suddenly, a pang of intense pain dazes you.

Oh, did I hurt you?

That Ascalon woman is so annoying. Is she so persistent with everyone?

Doctor!

Amiya disengages from her battle with the Damazti and runs towards you. Arts converge on her fingertips, and her crown appears above her head.

Look out, Amiya!

You're the one they're after!

The black Arts are shattered, and the black crown gone.

Amiya's Arts disintegrate in an instant, as though they had never existed.

How could this be? It is the power of the King of Sarkaz!

H-How—

I have long waited to rummage in your emotions and memories, little king.

I thought the Revenant would cause you some difficulty, but you seem to be in better condition than I expected.

Cautus, no, Chimera.

You are no Theresa.

An eerie dark halo envelops Amiya. She tries to break through, but the Confessarius's cage does not budge.

The cage grows smaller.

You look for someone who can help, a way to break Amiya free.

The Confessarius guards block any eyes that dare gaze upon this place.

The enemy is more prepared than you thought.

Let go of me—

You had the fortune to be conferred the crown, but do you truly understand your power?

We have studied the King of Sarkaz for thousands of years.

Amiya's struggle grows feeble. The ancient, bane arts drain her strength.

Her knees buckle, and she falls to the ground.

She lifts her hand, but not a ripple of Arts answer.

As for you...

You feel the chilling gaze scanning you. Your heart is beating so fast, it threatens to escape your chest.

Anger and despair.

Death extends its tendrils towards you.

You clench your fist.

Get... away... from... Doctor!

Oh? Still mustering the power of the King of Sarkaz, even when surrounded by Confessarius witchcraft? I'm starting to miss Liz.

Well, this is a benefit to our experiments. I'll spare the Doctor's life, for now, and teach you to leverage your emotions.

But I must make sure you behave before handing you over to the leader.

Great Damazti, that nasty woman is coming. May I count on you to deal with the rest?

Very well.

Maybe she will temper us.

You see Ascalon sprinting towards you.

Countless Confessarius guards stand in her way. They fall without a sound, then the figures of countless Damazti once again bury her.

The Confessarius with blue hair lifts Amiya in her arms. The hull structure around you shatters, a staircase of earth and stone rises, and the wall of the canyon outside opens its gaping maw.

You have seen Arts like this before. But she is no Gargoyle.

Doctor...

Amiya!

Wherever they walk, the stone bridge trembles and shatters, and the cracks on the rock wall heal.

Ascalon tries to free herself from the Damazti tide, but the expressionless fragments seem endless.

Doctor! Stay where you are!

The most important thing is—

The Confessarius and Amiya grow distant.

You have heard it many times from many people. You are not built for fighting, so weak you could not even complete the beginner course for trainee operators.

Kal'tsit wanted you to stay in the rear, giving orders in safety.

But Kal'tsit, equally thin and frail, stood before Theresis. You can still see the gaping wound when you close your eyes.

You should wait where you are. Ascalon needs time. You can work on a rescue plan once the battle has concluded.

A commander should learn to recognize when the situation is untenable.

But...

Your ears ring.

Amiya is your partner, your family.

Your sense and sensibility, your past and memories all cry out.

The smiles, the tears, the hard times... the brief joy.

The hull breach is right beside you.

The stone staircase is starting to fall apart.

You put a numb foot forward.

Let her go—;Let Amiya go!

You leap before the bridge shatters completely.

Huff, huff, huff...

You run like you never have before, as the ground falls out from beneath where you just tread.

Your view is obscured by the white vapors that you exhale.

Your whole body trembles. You have never so lamented the frailness of your physique.

It is not far. You can catch them. You can—

There is no time to think. The hole is within reach, but the ever-shifting rock wall could close upon it at any time.

A few steps further.

You muster all the speed you have.

The next instant, you find yourself falling in infinite darkness.

How much time has passed?

With your portable light, you see that countless hands have emerged from the ground, pulling at the passage, sewing it shut.

The space continues to contract, pressing on you.

You do not know how far you must go, but you must not stop.

Down, down, down.

Huff, huff, huff...

Your lungs sting. A light in the distance is your only hope.

Escaping the contracting hole, you find yourself hanging from an upside-down statue. From its eyes seep water falling from above, gleaming an eerie red in the light of magma.

Where is this place? What are these statues?

You recognize the statues as Djall.

The Gargoyle shoulders the roof of the cave, feet burning in the magma.

The Banshee curls up in the wilted thorns, bone whistle in hand.

The Wendigo tries to tear the rock wall apart with twisted hands, frightful visage roaring beneath a mask.

The withered Vampire extends a hand from the lava.

A creature of unknown race holds its head in its hands, stone columns running through its eyes.

They look like they could come alive at any time.;Statues of the Sarkaz races?

You're tough, 'Doctor'. I respect that.

You feel a heavy blow, and a pair of baleful eyes.

Awake?

How did you follow me with that feeble constitution of yours? I examined your body, but found nothing.

Well... not exactly nothing.

Your structure is... unusual. Different from all the samples I've seen. I would very much like to study you.

In great detail. Unfortunately, this place has been abandoned a long time, and the equipment is far from adequate. It would not do to damage such a precious sample.

Perhaps I could bring you back to Londinium. But Theresis seems to pay particular attention to you...

Amiya...

You look towards Amiya. Her consciousness seems hazy. Black Arts seep out from her, then fade into thin air the next instant.

Her brow twitches in pain. She is not in good shape.

You have rarely seen this expression on the brave child's face, ever since you met in Chernobog.

Look, 'Doctor'. What is she looking at?

She's trembling.

What did you do to her?

'The King of Sarkaz grants the promised land.' The little bunny simply got a taste of her own power.

We don't need to be crossing swords. You want knowledge? Rhodes Island has it.;What do you want? We can talk about it.;Stop, or I'll drown you in lava.

Laughable attempt at flattery.

Meaningless negotiation.

A trembling threat.

Painfully amusing, the way you hopelessly grasp at straws.

No operators at your side. Nothing for you to command. Even the King of Sarkaz whom you served is leaving you.

What can you do?

She draws closer.

You tighten the hand hidden behind your back.

All you have is a sharp rock that you happened to pick up in the chaos.

Your reason tells you that it is useless. Perhaps you would have had a speck of hope if you were Blaze, Ascalon, or even Popukar...

You feel regret, but even stronger is your determination.

The pain in your hand keeps you conscious.

Patience. Wait for her to draw closer...

I've asked the leader many times: why does power so often end up in the hands of the ordinary?

What have these forgotten Kings of Sarkaz given us, besides a life of exile and persecution?

Will you, 'Doctor', be one of the causes of another round of suffering?

You have questions, but this is not the time or place to answer them.;Remove the spell on Amiya, and I'll do my best to answer.;I have the same questions, but hurting Amiya is not the answer.

I appreciate your intelligence, but there has never been a shortage of smart people.

There is nothing that can compare to this opportunity, what we have pursued for thousands of years.

If she can force the crown upon the head of this little bunny—

Then it can be forced out.

You want to steal Amiya's crown!

Steal? No, this crown is not a ring lying on the battlefield for the taking.

You'll never understand.

The blue-haired Confessarius turns towards Amiya.

This might be your chance. You make the calculations. With your full strength, perhaps...

What's this? A rock?

You feel your internal organs twitch and convulse. The taste of rust fills your mouth.

One little push from the Confessarius, and your right hand loses all sensation.

Bones have broken.

Wincing at the intense pain, you force yourself to lunge forward but she lithely dodges.

You fall in front of Amiya, blocking the blue-haired Confessarius's malicious gaze.

How touching, putting yourself in front of her. But meaningless.

If you're so obsessed, I have a better way to deal with you.

Perhaps that brain beneath the hood holds secrets beneficial to our experiments.

There. Don't try to resist.

Share your memories with me—

You can feel the Confessarius's breathing.

A numbing sensation filled with ancient witchcraft moves towards the top of your head.

Get out of my head!

What? What could possibly repel a Confessarius's...

The King of Sarkaz? But her mind should have been shackled...

A black vortex rises from behind you.

Amiya whispers at its center.

The black crown trembles with agitation.

*Ancient Sarkaz Language*

Amiya!

The shackles of myriad souls are not so easily broken. She remains amidst the myriad souls.

She has chosen to protect you subconsciously. Hah.

Wait... That's not all?

Her connection with the crown is growing?

'The crown... remember... souls...'

Is that Amiya's voice?

You get a feeling...

She is growing more distant by the second, to a place that you cannot reach—

Amiya! Wake up!

You try to grab Amiya. The black vortex roils between you, and a great force tries to push you away.

You dig your one good hand into the dirt, dragging the rest of your hide along, towards the girl lying on the ground.

Ah, such intense emotions.

Looks like Theresa's choice was not entirely one of desperation, after all.

Just a little further—

Why don't we cut straight to the chase, then? I hope this won't break your little head. That would be a shame.

The Confessarii left more than statues in this cavern.

*Sarkaz incantation*

Amiya!

You touch her.

You promised—

Reject the voice!

The black vortex shatters and vanishes. You grab Amiya's hand.

Amiya has grown up, but her hands still feel small and frail.

Her palm is filled with sweat.

You do not know if the Confessarius's curse worked, or if this was the result of Amiya's effort and yours.

Tsk—

Blood sprays from the Confessarius's neck.

Ascalon walks towards you, casting not another glance at the fallen Confessarius.

That was reckless, Doctor. If I didn't run into—

Look out.

Blood explodes, and a sanguine shockwave sweeps towards you.

A figure stands in front of you, arriving in the nick of time.

Vampire Arts... what have you done to your bloodline?

Hard to imagine that you're related to Shining.

The amount of grief that your degeneration has caused that fine girl...

*Cough* *cough*—Lord of the Banshees.

I'm impressed. It couldn't have been easy to get here.

The Confessarius puts her hand on her neck wound. The blood that sprayed from it is slowly flowing back.

I should have been more careful, knowing that the sitting Lord of the Banshees is rather rebellious.

You're more dangerous than we expected.

Urgent situation. Interrogation out of the question. Kill her and leave.

I know.

You see Logos's cold expression, and the incantation that obediently emerges from his tongue.

But you do not see Salus's fear, anger, any expression you might expect to see on one facing her own death.

You see only curiosity.

This is the Lord of the Banshees? The Elegiac Court? Indeed, these incantations are no less refined than that of your famous mother.

But... did you know?

Such refined runes, refined Arts... they are far from the Sarkaz's roots.

She is backing up.

Behind her—

The statue of a Banshee towers above.

Ascalon!

An instant before everything went black, you saw Ascalon grab Amiya, while Logos shielded you.

You saw the statue come to life.

You saw the Confessarius's eyes narrow, and saw her ring the death knell first.

Doctor.

We've left the cave. Ascalon is scouting the area.

Your right forearm is broken. I made a makeshift splint, but I'm no medic.

What about Amiya?

Still unconscious. The Confessarius said something to the effect of 'trapped in the myriad souls', but...

She's alive, at least.

You turn around to see the Cautus girl lying peacefully under a tree, as if she is merely sleeping.

I can understand Ascalon's objection to your methods. She's concerned for more than just your safety.

But it's also true that you bought us time. The Confessarius and Amiya would be behind Londinium's walls by now, if not for your efforts.

What of the Confessarius?

She got away.

Rock and earth, blood... and the wail of the Banshee.

Is this the Sarkaz that the Confessarii want? One so obsessed with bloodline and witchcraft?

Their target is the King of Sarkaz.

We must inform Kal'tsit and Shining.

...Wait.

The vapor around us...

...This can't be. Careful, Doctor. We may still be inside the enemy's trap.

What is it?;I don't often see that look on your face.

This is not Victoria.

This is the Convallis of the Banshees.