level_main_14-11_end

Here you are.

...Nearl.

You don't return to the landship often. Stay with Liz a bit; she's missed you.

She just fell asleep.

While you seem more exhausted than when I last saw you.

Are you worried about Liz? I asked Dr. Kal'tsit, and she said Liz's condition is still under control—

Is there... something you haven't told me?

I'm thinking... of a way to 'cure' Liz for good.

You've poured years into this, it just won't come quickly, so don't torture yourself over it.

What if... I told you a solution has always existed, only I've dared not try it?

Shining.

What exactly are you hiding from me? What is it you can't say?

Nearl, this is a duty I must see through on my own.

Do you think Liz and I will leave you?

You know that won't happen.

My concern... has always been that you two might get hurt.

I've decided to join Liz in searching for her memories. I shall accompany her... until we find the truth. However...

Nearl—

A time will come when I need you to protect Liz in my stead.

I know.

But I will protect and fight... for more than just Liz.

Shining, I will stand for you as well.

Yes...

We have always stood by each other. The Followers are as one.

My oath remains, unchanged—

Margaret Nearl and her swordstaff will be there for you, whenever needed.

The swordstaff sweeps wide.

A dazzling radiance repels a crowd of foes.

Every single Confessarius here... is a powerful foe.

So that's why you weren't willing to spar with me, Shining.

We saved quite a lot of money for Rhodes Island.

Our greatest foe... lies ahead.

Alright.

Let's settle this quickly.

What a farce!

Careful!

*huff*—Hah.

I can take it.

Shining, my shield will protect you.

You need only... advance.

A torrent of witchcraft washes toward them.

Margaret's radiance is suppressed.

Qui'sartuštaj stands on the top of the steps, day and night surging within his palm.

So this is the help you found? Qui'saršinnag, what do you think our ceremonial altar is?

A... meadow? For a Kuranta to frolic in?

Hmph, so her Arts can momentarily block my influence on you.

And what of it? Your swordplay and Arts all come from me.

You can't even harm me... unless I let you.

*cough* *cough*—Ugh!

Everything's slowed down...?

His Arts... affect the perception of time? Or is it something else...?

Shining!

...I'm alright.

Your shield...

...The first crack on this new shield of mine.

But no matter, I can mend it with my Arts.

A knight's shield will never weaken when protecting someone in need.

What a detestable light.

Puny foal, I've killed so many pegasi like you... I've stopped counting.

I smeared their golden blood on the walls of my Kazdel—so that my city would look as if forever bathed in the radiance of dawn.

And their descendants would understand Kazdel is not a domain they can invade as they please.

We're not in Kazdel.

And you're not some homeland hero either.

Heroes shed their own blood to clear the way for others.

But you—All I see is your path to ascension drenched with the blood, tears and bones of others.

Heroes? I decided long ago to give up being one.

The hero people sing and praise... but is as fleeting as sand. No matter how I try to master the time I have, it does not stop for me.

I will die, and the city I built will collapse. My beloved people will only be compelled to continue wandering.

This hopeless cycle... torments every single Sarkaz, including me.

As a sovereign, I have the responsibility and power, and ought to change my people's fate at the source.

As long as the Sarkaz need no longer lie prostrate before beasts like you, as long as my Kazdel stands everlasting through days and nights—

All the light around them rushes toward Qui'sartuštaj's palm as he speaks.

Margaret's Arts, the Arts of the other Confessarii, and even... the little sunlight straining through the dense clouds.

In his palm floats a small crown of thorns, as impenetrable as the darkest night.

Nightingale floats up from the stone bed.

Her eyes are still shut, her limbs lack strength, but her arms involuntarily open—

When the last light has been caged, the crown will fall on Qui'sartuštaj's head.

Liz...!

Shining, follow my light! Save her—

A sharp spear of light tears a path through the witchcraft barrier.

Shining arrives before Qui'sartuštaj.

Night descends like a cage, and the only light comes from her blade.

The soul glimmers on the tip of her sword.

...Liz.

I return the true memories I once took from you.

No fields, no woods, no streams... and no flower wreaths.

Only a girl huddled in a dark corner.

The entire room serves as her cage, and she cannot tell day from night.

Because she is merely a manufactured, empty shell.

With no consciousness, or knowledge of pain or fear. she reacts to no Arts inflicted on her at all.

Until—

In my obsession with exploring the soul... I left some... unnecessary vestiges in you when carving yours.

You're... awake.

You're starting to have emotions, and responding to them.

The experiment will continue, I have to...

Create some illusions. Fill up that newborn soul with memories fabricated by Arts.

To cover up the truest, scariest ones.

I think you should feel a little better, at least.

You will feel truly alive, as if you've experienced... a bit of warmth.

No.

Perhaps it was escapism.

As long as I lost myself in those wholly trusting eyes, I didn't have to confront the cruelty of what I'd done to her.

I'm sorry.

You should have remembered... Liz.

You must remember all that we promised each other.

A blue fowlbeast emerges from the darkness.

Gigantic grey-white eyes stare at Shining, and a tear slowly falls.

...Mm.

The girl in the air floats down.

Shining and Margaret hear Nightingale's voice simultaneously in the frozen time.

I remember, Shining.

You took me out of the darkest of rooms and we escaped... you accompanied me everywhere in search of medical help...

And then we met Nearl, and two became three.

We went many places, and saved many people.

You often sighed with knitted brows in the middle of the night... but once I opened my eyes, you shifted to the warmest tone I know and told me about the beautiful things I missed on our journey.

Nearl tried to teach me how to dance a few times. She'd hold me and spin... until I couldn't move anymore, and the two of you would help me, taking turns carrying me...

When I'm at your side...

It's as if... I really can fly.

The two of you have made me what I am now.

I am a member of the Followers... and a healer.

I'll protect you both too.

And fight alongside as well, to sever the gravest sins, to save... those shrouded in the eternal night.

This is what the three of us...

...Promised each other.

Nightingale lands on the ground.

Her staff and body emit an intense light.

A giant cage appears, and catches Qui'sartuštaj's body within.

Ugh—!

The soul was completely under my control, why is this cage—

I have a name.

I am Liz—and I am your enemy.

Qui'sartuštaj, I'm stopping you because... I don't agree with a single word you've said.

You...

Shining, Nearl...

Shining grips her sword tight.

Margaret tosses her swordstaff, and it hits right on target, the crown of thorns revolving in Qui'sartuštaj's hand.

The trio are in complete sync with their thoughts and actions.

Grab the flickering sliver of the soul, before day and night take control once more.

A long path of blood is the only crack before her eyes.

I've found it, the essence of your soul.

Qui'saršinnag... you...

What this body will become... I am unconcerned.

If blood does control my will, then Liz and Nearl will pass judgement on me, in my stead as I am now.

But I will <i>not</i> be your puppet.

I will not conquer or rule in your name.

Until death... I <i>will</i> be free.

Free? You speak of freedom?

Shall we give it a go?

Qui'saršinnag, we are not easily parted.

Try again... to leave my side. Try and see... how long you can run from me.

I will run no longer.

Rather, I will—grant you an eternal death.

Shining—Retreat!

The moonlight above the tree tumbles down the cliff, and the ground violently rumbles as if about to turn upside down.

The altar crumbles, and thick golden Originium liquid gushes out from the cracks.

A figure appears without anyone noticing. He does not move fast, but manages to appear just in time to block Qui'sartuštaj from the Followers.

We should leave....

...Your Highness.

Heh... So it's you.

Who's there—?!

Followers... is it?

In this era where valor is scarce, your radiance bedazzles.

We shall meet again.

Qalid'čoa and Qui'sartuštaj's figures blend into the remains of the altar.

The other Confessarii follow suit.

The crown of thorns shot out of Qui'sartuštaj's hand earlier suddenly spins, and turns into a pitch-black shadow that flies up toward the sky.

...The Shard.

In the eye of the storm... is that the 'Amnannam' mentioned over the comms?

Dr. Kal'tsit, the Doctor, and the others... will they make it?

Shining, you... uh, anything feel off?

I'm alright.

This blood curse is indeed complicated.

Wait, Liz... Liz?!

Liz...

...No.

Your soul... why is it incomplete?!

Did you fracture your soul... when you resisted Qui'sartuštaj?!

Shining... Nearl...

I'm here.

I've always been here, Liz.

Yes...

I'm alright...

You two have protected me for so long... so it's my turn...

I want... the three of us... to be always...

Together.

Liz!

Come, Shining! We'll treat her together!

Shining?

It's futile.

Our Arts can't heal such a grievous wound on her soul in this environment.

Liz is unique, both her body and soul. Her birth was coincidental... no, I would rather call it a miracle.

Then we...

Will first leave this place, and then plan our next move.

What about Qui'sartuštaj? Do we just let him go?

His fate means nothing compared to Liz's safety—he means nothing now.

Let us return.

Yes, together.

...Leader.

(Furious roaring)

Qui'sartuštaj failed to cage the Black Crown.

The altar's power has weakened... I can work through its influence now—

The altar's upper layer is breaking apart. Amiya, focus your attacks on the Blood of Teekaz.

Right.

Hmm... Yes.

You...

The King of Sarkaz has already sentenced me to death.

But this is nothing new to me.

You're clearly... in pain.

You revere Qui'sartuštaj, but he left you behind like nothing. He treats you just like how you treat those Chimeras... exactly the same.

Don't waste your breath, <i>King of Sarkaz.</i>

My feelings are nothing special.

The Confessarii are of the Leader's blood. Though some are born more perfect than others... like Qui'saršinnag. Still others like myself were never in the running to be chosen at all.

But I've never envied her.

We only stand in the spot befitting us best.

We were supposed to be inseparable. We are all limbs... of the same one body.

There is no other group able to perform unprecedented miracles like we Confessarii can.

You sure are dedicated.;...How stubborn.

I am curious.

Is there nothing you're strongly attached to?

<i>Doctor...</i> Would you not make the same choice as I have, for your life's work, for those dear to you, and the ones who have fought by your side this whole time?

Whether it be under some control or influence... it does not matter.

To reach our origin, and create a completely new future.

That's all I want.

I can't... let you get close to the Blood of Teekaz.

Hah... Oh.

A black line pierces through Salus's body once again and strikes the altar's core at the same time.

The Blood of Teekaz stills.

I'm so close... ngh.

Amiya, stop her!

She's going to ignite—

It's fine, it's fine...

My body... is just like a monster's...

She stretches out her broken hand towards that drop of blood.

A curse known only to the Confessarii, inflicted upon the soul, upon all blood and flesh—

It will probably be a complete death this time.

Before the Leader, before Qui'saršinnag, and before all my family...

I'll take the first step... into the future I yearn for.

Salus smiles and throws herself onto the still heart.

The Blood of Teekaz boils.

A giant crimson vortex appears from the altar's core—

In that moment, Amiya feels as if she's being watched.

By Qui'sartuštaj, by the crowned without names, by the howling myriad souls... and the one she is most familiar with.

Theresa...?

Amnannam.

Salus used her own blood to complete the Confessarius ceremony.

Quick, get away from the altar!