level_main_14-11_beg

Qui'saršinnag...

Qui'saršinnag.

Mama's here. It's alright, I just need to talk to your father for a bit.

Didn't you want to look around outside?

Just like the blue fowlbeast in your favorite story... the fowlbeast that can fly high up into the soft, lofty clouds.

You can do it. You should live a free life.

I'm sorry, my dear child...

...Mama will get you away from all of this.

Qui'saršinnag.

Enough hiding. I know you're there.

You followed her in secret when she came to find me. You witnessed... everything. That's good.

You need not be afraid of the blood. You'll see much more in the future.

Will I die?

Of course, my dear. Look, this sword has pierced through my heart. It won't take long before the blood in this body dries up.

Your mother... wants to leave me because of some pointless delusions, and have you leave me as well...

But how is that possible? We have long been bound together by the myriad souls, we cannot be separated.

Go, child. Touch your mother... can you feel it? Her pulse.

This is the power of life, our cycle of life. Through rebirths like this, again and again, will our lives be perfected.

I will always be with you.

We... shall never part.

My dear Qui'saršinnag, you don't seem happy at all.

Didn't the experiment go smoothly? The receptacle has been responding perfectly from the last few tests.

When the ceremony is complete, what will happen to her?

Her? You mean the... receptacle?

When it was born, its soul was no longer with us.

After all, the Leader has been researching for so long just to craft a cage from a pure consciousness, to trick the <i>King of Sarkaz.</i>

When that happens, the King's power will be transferred to you, and the receptacle will be useless.

You can decorate it like a doll if you like, and bring her wherever you go. I do like to collect souvenirs too.

It is none of your concern.

Hah, you're always so impolite with me. Want it out of your sight? Just dispose of it. Or... you could give it to me?

Leave. Do not step into my laboratory without my permission ever again.

Why are you so... offended? The Leader and you have such different temperaments... well, it's fine. You'll soon become as gentle as he is.

Who knows, I might even miss your current personality...

Goodbye, Qui'saršinnag.

She looks through her mask at the girl on the stone bed, who returns her gaze.

There is still work to do, and her father will not allow any delays.

This altar, this laboratory... and the bloodline she was born into together form a cage around her. In the face of the Confessarii's calling for the past several millennia, her sorrow and suffering are insignificant.

She does not control her own limbs, they are extensions of her father's will.

She cannot stop or leave this altar fiddling with life and death, nor can she drop the soul-engraving white sword in her hand.

Suddenly, a drop of water falls onto her busy hand.

Who is the one shedding tears here...? Her, or the figure on the bed, who should be completely unconscious?

'Qui'saršinnag.'

Distracted, she lifts her head, and sees a blue fowlbeast fly out of the cave and into the dusk outside.

Cracks appear on the cage.

A consciousness that should not exist, yearning for freedom it could not possibly have.

From this, hope is born.

A Confessarius and a pure white receptacle.

Qui'saršinnag and Liz.

Shining... and Nightingale.

I'm hearing a din of discontent.

Do not worry, Leader! Only a few enemies have broken into this place.

They want to destroy the altar and stop the ceremony.

Annoying pests. Send someone to clean them up.

Surely I need not sully my hands with such trifles?

Of course not—

We shall eradicate all obstacles in your stead.

Hm...

The Confessarius Leader looks at the girl dressed in white. She's so deep in sleep on the stone bed that she almost looks like she is not breathing.

The 'Receptacle's' Originium Arts are stable, the ceremony will soon be complete.

We're only a step away before Amnannam will open a path for you to the myriad souls.

You will surpass the King of Sarkaz, supersede the myriad souls, and become the father of all Sarkaz.

With our journey spanning thousands of years... this is how things should be.

Before that, I will have to reunite with my kin to witness it together.

Right on time, sister.

I have been waiting for you.

More Confessarius guards incoming...

Maryla, let's part ways here. I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep you and your companions safe in our next fight.

The roads should be safer once you leave this place. If you're willing to do so, you can continue heading east all the way out of Victoria.

Your Highness... I'll never forget your kindness, no matter where I end up!

But what are you guys planning to do?

This blade of mine is still usable, if you need it.

Don't worry, we have our own mission, and we're set on it.

Please... take care of yourselves, and then... um, I hope you can live the life you want to live.

Your Highness...

Maryla takes a step forward and kneels on one knee before Amiya. The other two follow suit, all three faces bearing a rare solemn look.

You've gained the undying loyalty of a... no, three Sarkaz.

Huh? Please... you don't have to do this...

The mercenaries hesitate for a bit before turning to leave, fading from your view.

Good luck to them.;I hope Logos is doing well...

We have little time left, and the Confessarius altar is close.

Logos helped us dispel the Confessarius illusions, and I can feel an unsettling energy disturbance here...

So are we going in loud?;Any secret passage to the altar or something similar?

Time isn't going to let us slowly figure a surefire solution.

We can't overlook the risks, but it's also important to take rational risks in our war strategies.

Fortunately, the Sarkaz have done as much, and sent all their troops to the front lines. So we need only deal with the Confessarius's men.

Theresis must trust Qui'sartuštaj a lot.;Why are the Confessarii in charge of the Amnannam advent ceremony?

The Confessarii play many roles in Kazdel. They are the King's advisers, bodyguards, shamans, and scholars.

They travel between the Royal Courts, and have always been dedicated to exploring Sarkaz history, and researching the power of their blood.

Theresis already planned to use the Shard to control Amnannam before invading Londinium, and the Confessarii definitely helped him out.

Qui'sartuštaj's plan to usurp the King is also closely tied to Amnannam.

What does Amnannam have to do with the King?

Qui'sartuštaj wants more than just the crown.

He too, once possessed the King's power thousands of years ago.

He did not manage to get the full picture, but he definitely sensed the King's power to influence others.

'Control'. The more you experience absolute power, the harder it is to resist temptation.

Be it Theresa or Amiya, Qui'sartuštaj has been watching every single King and their successors in secret for a long, long time.

His obsession with power compels him to extend his life by maniacal means without hesitation, just to seize control of that power once more.

There is only one thing that can let him achieve his goal.

...'Originium'.

Yes.

Through Originium, Qui'sartuštaj will be able to control the Sarkaz more than the King ever could.

Shining and Nightingale... are also victims of his.

They never stopped resisting their fate... especially at such a critical moment as now.

We have to stop Amnannam and its uncontrollable effects—;We have to stop the Confessarii from harming Rhodes Island's Operators—

It's time to move.

Mon3tr, hold off our enemies.

Amiya, destroy the altar.

Dr. Kal'tsit, I'm sensing something's up...

I can't quite control... the King's power...

That altar's influencing—

I've told you before. We've been researching the Crown for thousands of years. But you? How long has it been since you learned how to use it?

I welcome you all to bear witness to this grand ceremony.

...Qui'sartuštaj.

Everyone here is waiting for you.

The Confessarius Leader smiles as usual, spreading his arms wide open as if welcoming his own child back after a long time away from home.

Dozens of Confessarii stand on both sides of the mountain path in silence.

Their eyes behind their masks hold fervent deference, completely ignoring the blood drenched Shining as she walks up the steps with her sword in hand.

I'm here to kill you.

I know.

How could I... not know that?

Many years ago, mother showed up before father, before me, just like you have now.

She always knew her own duty, and never thought to disobey me.

But as you slowly grew, she developed a hatred to our family, the love I gave her... and the Confessarius's calling.

I don't blame her at all, nor do I blame you. You are the same. Merely made a tiny, forgivable mistake.

I will always accept you returning to my side.

You are a monster. Who are you to speak of love?

Love and hate, life and death. They are fundamentally part of the same whole.

Generations of Confessarii have passed their souls down through the same rites. This is my way of loving my family.

Souls in death are purified in rebirth. Through death after death... we close in on the original, the purest and perfect being.

There is not a shred of that worthy to be... perfect.

Qui'sartuštaj. Your true self died thousands of years ago.

The white horned King of Sarkaz who defeated countless enemies, the legendary hero who built an everlasting Kazdel under the day and night—is long dead.

What stands before me now is but a despicable man who lives in the shadows, a coward who sacrifices the lives of innumerable innocents to prolong his own.

Who is it that tarnishes the soul of that original hero?

It's you, King of Usurping Kings—You got so twisted seeking longevity. You are no longer worthy of that crown.

...Perhaps.

Qui'saršinnag... Sister.

I, who was born with all my memories intact... know better than you, the history Qui'sartuštaj bears with his life.

The Confessarius Leader takes a step down.

He calmly looks at Shining, and holds her hand trembling in rage.

I know all too well the blood that is on my hands, as I remember all the love I have received.

It was you who picked me up from the blood into your trembling arms when mother died.

We are a true family, sharing the closest of blood, and sharing the closest of relationships.

The nature of my soul may change, but the facts remain the same.

How could you... talk about that like so...

Who was it...that killed my brother?

Who was it, that turned him from a child who should have received his mother's love... into a non-existence from the very beginning?

It was me.

For millennia, Qui'sartuštaj has... died time and time again from betrayal, from his closest kin.

You may see this as a punishment if you wish it so.

However... what does that matter?

You call me unworthy of that crown, but who else but me could possibly lead the Sarkaz on a path to our survival?!

Qui'lon brought our people on a wandering path of no return, and Yliš's retreat into hiding would only make us weak.

Even that pair of siblings, all they did was push Sarkaz into futile conflict, and let the crown slip into outblood hands!

The Sarkaz... need a true King, an eternal King.

I will reach our starting point, and together with the sins of Qui'sartuštaj and his blood, purge all of the Sarkaz's sins!

Sin.

The word intensifies the ire in Shining.

Her father and brother were both possessed by this undying monster—while she and her mother lived under the madness of his shadow.

To let him live, to kill him—both are afflicted with the curse.

She has no path to go.

She has nowhere to retreat.

But there is no way she can stay here as is.

...Ugh!

You... made your move.

Very good... Qui'saršinnag...

...I'll kill you.

And then...

Kill yourself?

Is this what you call severing the bloodline's curse?

The same stupidity I see.

Qui'sartuštaj grips Shining's sword with hand.

Blood trickles down the pure white blade and stains her hand.

A shudder rises from the depths of her soul.

—Ugh!

An overwhelming force flings Shining onto a crystal tree.

The sharp black branches pierce through her abdomen.

Fresh blood gushes down, and converges with Qui'sartuštaj's blood.

The ancient tree long crystallized into Originium bursts a sudden pure white glow.

In just a moment, countless little moons rise to the top of the tree.

Every Confessarius begins to sing—

The myriad souls lie prostrate.

Howling knocks on the door from beneath, tangible usurps the intangible.

The Black Crown imprisoned, the offender perpetually innocent.

Because kings are born before immortality.

Look, even injuries as grievous as this will not infect you—this is the power of the blood you resist.

Qui'saršinnag... I have been patient enough with you.

But you stay stubborn, unwilling to accept all that belongs to you—your duty, power, glory.

It's alright, just be good and stay aside, while I... complete the ceremony myself.

A crown woven of thorns appears in his hand.

Moonlight shines onto the crown as it illuminates the crystal tree at the end of the steps.

In that spot lies a stone bed lined with dead branches, and a curled up figure Shining knows too well atop it.

Liz...

...Wake up.

Don't bother.

Her consciousness is not where you think it to be.

She's inside the crown.

Correct.

I promised you that I would mend her soul.

You need only wear the complete crown, and you can be together forever.

Together forever... in your cage?

Shining shuts her eyes.

She strains to imagine... the time she spent together with Liz.

They run in the woods, hand in hand.

They cross the ice-cold creek together.

With Liz worn out on her back, she walks the road home.

Liz makes a small flower wreath and places it on Shining's head.

A small blue fowlbeast follows them the whole time, chirping a cheery tune over their heads.

It hovers, searches—and lands next to the sleeping white demon.

It does not know why Liz is sleeping, and anxiously pecks at her cheek with its little beak.

Until a black arrow pierces it.

The fowlbeast vanishes, leaving only a blue feather that lands on Shining's shoulder.

Enough.

You know very well those are not her dreams.

Even if those memories were fabricated...

They <i>are</i> fabricated, so why not accept your own power, and reshape her memory once more?

Liz... is Liz.

She should be free. I will never shape her soul as I please ever again.

Wishful thinking... Qui'saršinnag, my fragile child indulging in fantasy. You are that blue fowlbeast, thirsting for freedom, yet imprisoning yourself.

I prepared everything for you, a perfect body, an ancient power, all you needed is to accept—

But you betrayed me, you abandoned everything that belongs to you, and then? What did you gain?

You sorely disappoint me.

...A new life.

I was reborn into a new life after leaving you.

Not as the Confessarius Qui'saršinnag, nor a puppet of my bloodline...

But as Shining...

...As a member of the Followers.

Blue feathers prick her wounds.

The slightest of stings momentarily rouses her from her bloodline-induced paralysis.

Come.

Now... is the time.

Find me. Find this tree.

If it were you...

...You would certainly make it.

An opening pierces through the crimson clouds.

The sunlight pours down—

Everything around her becomes increasingly brighter.

That's—

It doesn't matter what it is, just hold it back!

The ceremony has already begun, we can't let—Ugh! We can't stop it!

Light.

Light and fog fills the air.

The sun descends from the sky to repel the clammy moonlight.

Sorry, the storm was too intense, so I took some time to locate you—

Are you alright?

Do you need a hand... Shining?

...I'm fine.

But we have to save... Liz.

And... stop Qui'sartuštaj.

Lend me your strength—

And dispel the darkness before my eyes.

Of course.

Let's go together.

The road ahead of us... I'll illuminate our path.