level_main_14-16_beg

The airship keeps increasing its power output. The skeleton's nerve bundles are getting torn apart.

Originium's already weakened the strands pretty badly.

Even if the Doctor's team shuts the airship down, if it separates from the skeleton, they won't have a way to get back here!

We'll do what we can.

Worry not. I promised them half an hour. I will not break my vow.

The Banshee treads atop the spine, one stroke for every step, the curses he composes gathering behind him before finally sinking into the nerves.

As he sweeps his writing hand across the crimson sky, the incantations surge through the nerves, causing them to tense and lift.

The Banshee uses his bone pen as a fulcrum, commanding the countless nerve bundles via his magics.

As they tighten and constrict, the steel wrapped in their grasp screeches unceasingly.

The airship howls, causing huge fragments to rain down from the skeleton's bones.

Theresis's Witchling army is still bombarding us.

You're going to be their easiest target if you keep standing out there like that!

No matter. It is better that way.

The shroud of fog will be enough to extinguish the raging flames.

If I do not wish it, not even the scorching sun could penetrate the white mists of the valley.

It will protect me.

The thick fog at Logos's side condenses and gathers, gradually engulfing his silhouette so as to make it indistinct and untargetable.

The bombardment penetrates into his cloak of clouds, but there is not a single sound. The tracks it leaves behind are quickly filled by the fog.

We can't fight on for too much longer, W...

I've got you, W!

*cough*... *cough*...

Are you serious?! Don't tell me this old bastard's house can still move!

Didn't manage to find anything over there.

Do not treat the airship as an unliving piece of metal. The mere existence of the revenant is enough to make it a 'weapon' out of the ordinary.

Within its walls, it will use all its might to disrupt our cognition.

The interior of the cabin is filled with a surging black tide as far as the eye could see, while the revenant's cage fades out of your view.

Net-shaped shadows persistently, unceasingly attempt to creep up your bodies.

(Hatefully shaking off shadows)

Mon3tr will protect us, Doctor.

Do not injure the Doctor, Mon3tr.

You give Mon3tr a pat, who is still lifting you atop its shoulders.

Don't worry, Kal'tsit, I think we're firm friends by now.

(Lively cry)

Emotions... are flooding the entire room.

The shadows are everywhere. We can't pinpoint where the core is while we're under the influence of the revenant's Arts.

He's clearly changing his strategy.

He knows full well that with Amiya present, he cannot threaten us in the short term.

I fear that it is not the revenant that's changing strategy. Rather...;He is buying time for someone else.

Theresa.

We cannot hesitate any longer. This is our only chance.

She raises her hands, the patterns on her ten rings beginning to flow.

Black chains manifest from them, twisting, entwining.

The chains fly forth, plunging deep into the surging tide.

The black chains bind the inky sea of shadow, gathering it into an ebony sphere.

The airship howls as waves of shadow crash unceasingly against the Arts barrier.

Every time the chains are struck, Amiya is forced to resonate with the wild, chaotic frenzy of emotion.

Amiya!

I... I can endure it.

But I don't know how long I can hold it—

Amiya, clear a path forward.

Mon3tr, prepare to enter—

I'll do it.

I don't know what you could even do without your little pet.

Hey, hag, Her Highness can see us, right?

Her will is ever-present.

Open the door, little bunny.

I don't think Her Highness remembers me, so I need to shift the schedule up a bit.

Okay. After you enter, I'll help you!

The chains turn, shadows spewing out from the gaps between them.

Make way, you old coot! Can't you see I'm trying to get in?

Gragh. Such a warm welcome. You must have really liked that gift I gave you earlier.

Well no need to worry, because there's plenty more!

She yanks apart an opening between the chains, her mouth clenching onto a grenade, and after giving some shadows a few good kicks, she steps inside.

We need to finish this before Theresa really gets involved.

You are right, Doctor.

The gaps between the chains are already beginning to close.

But while no-one was looking, an imperceptible trickle of shadow manages to flow out through the tiniest of cracks...

Slowly creeping its way towards Amiya.

Once we've successfully stopped the airship—

The one we next need to face is her—

King of Sarkaz...

The revenant's voice suddenly reverberates in Amiya's mind.

Before she could even react, the shadow at her feet explodes like a raging flame.

Amiya's ears ring with urgent cries calling for her.

Doctor... Dr. Kal'tsit...

King of Sarkaz!

The revenant's bellow shakes the walls of the cabin.

A lance breaks free from within the shadows, forming itself into a monstrous symbol before piercing through Amiya.

She is pinned midair in front of the black sphere.

Chimera! I will use your death to inscribe this brand!

The mark of the ones without roots.

The chains chafe against one another, shear apart and slacken.

Blood drips upon the ground.

What was that?

She could still feel Amiya's presence accompanying her, somewhere, somehow.

Little bunny... Damn it. I better find that old coot fast.

'Where emotion flows clearest'... Where the hell is that?

It's too dark in here. Let me light this place up for you, you old bast—

Where are my *Sarkaz expletive* bombs?! No way I'd forget—

The flowing shadows engulf her.

She suddenly feels no support under her feet, like she is drowning in the abyss.

Argh—

It's cold. Ice cold. Why is there not a single sign of life here?

This... isn't the airship, is it?

She sees a great suit of armor, stained with rust, hacking away at a boulder in the wilderness.

A metal man... without a head?

(Ancient Sarkaz language) I have followed you along this campaign of yours, but now that even death has left us, what meaning does slaughter have still...

(Ancient Sarkaz language) If not for slaughter, where would I even go, you say?

I don't understand a damn word they're saying—

Wait... is that rock... talking?

She carefully inspects everything she has on her, realizing that she truly doesn't have any pre-prepared bombs at the moment.

Revenant. Consciousness. Emotion.

The words suddenly jump into her mind.

A revenant... is inside that rock?

Was that you talking, little bunny? This was the help you said you were going to give me, right?

There is no answer.

Just hang in there, Amiya. I'll be back real quick.

She looks toward the headless suit of armor as it drags a boulder into a Catastrophe.

A moment of silence, then she chases after it, rushing into the Catastrophe as well—

She sees the storm within the Catastrophe sweep towards her, revenant tearing apart revenant.

She cannot sense any emotion from within. Just broken consciousness thrown into disarray by the Originium storm.

The core is not here.

Among the ruins of a battlefield, a crazed revenant within a blood-drunk sword is restrained by the headless armor, forced into an ancient rock.

W is disappointed. The core is not here either.

Within a forest, the headless armor breaks apart an altar that a witch coven had once worshipped, collects a runestone covered in inscriptions, and bears it upon its back.

A cowardly revenant had escaped into it, hiding among the carvings.

The core is not here either.

A desolate waste, far from humanity.

A plundered settlement.

She follows the emotions, searching unceasingly, wending her way through the emotions. Fear. Joy. Greed. Hate.

The great revenant within the armor seals away his fellows within massive chunks of rock, dragging them behind him as he wanders the lands.

But he spares a revenant below the volcano, who is concealed within a metal body.

She experiences the bursts of weak emotion that the revenant felt as he wandered, with nothing to show for it in the end.

She feels even more bewildered. What was this revenant trying to do by collecting his own kind...?

<i>How many other revenants cut from the same cloth as him exist? Why were they scattered to every corner of this land?</i>

<i>Who were they, the ones that he spared, the ones who continuously reset their own memories, the revenants who were far from Kazdel?</i>

<i>And then there is the revenant in the airship, the one that set himself ablaze—</i>

The feeble flame within the forge sputters and flickers.

Is this... the Soul Furnace in Kazdel?

No, no way. I remember the fire inside it, bright enough to light up the night sky above the city.

Why is it... so weak?

Wait, this isn't the Soul Furnace I know...

(Ancient Sarkaz language) Why have you bound us back here?!

My friends.

Since death spurned us, we have fought together for near a thousand years.

We have witnessed Kazdel fall and rise and fall, over and over, to the point that we have grown weary of this unchanging, endless cycle.

You left me.

Left Kazdel.

You have hidden away in despair, gotten lost within chaos, forgot yourselves in the slaughter.

But I never left our homeland.

I have walked every inch of every Kazdel!

I still remember every howl of grief for each and every Kazdel!

Kazdel...

I must do something.

And so I carve away a part of my self, to serve as kindling for this forge.

But this flame is too weak, barely able to keep the Sarkaz alive through the winter.

I must do more.

I must grow this flame so that it may shelter them from Catastrophe.

I must grow this flame so that it may admonish any intruder!

No! It is not enough!

I want this fire to burn away those who would bring war to our doorstep!

I want this fire to rewrite our fate!

I tear more of myself away, turning myself into ever more wood for the pyre!

But it is still not enough!

It is far from enough!

Even if I burn my all, it is still not enough!

But there is still you! Death rejects us, and the myriad souls will not admit us!

For you, I left our homeland for the first time, this home that has ignobly died a thousand times upon a thousand times!

Why... Why do you resist me?!

We once swore to protect Kazdel!

Why do you yet resist?! Do you not wish to burn it all?!

All our enemies! All our fates!

Ourselves! We too shall burn away into ash!

The revenant roars in fury.

He throws his rust-stained armor into the forge, and then the boulders that had sealed his kin after it.

The revenant who was the first to set himself ablaze now binds his fellows, igniting them.

The flame of the Soul Furnace erupts.

He feels exhilaration, then anguish, and finally, numbness.

It needs more.

More...

Is there nothing left?

Am I the only one left, yet again?

No... You are here too, Sarkaz.

But your soul is weak and frail.

You are not worthy of the flame.

Hah, I kinda like you now, you old bastard.

But you are worthy of witnessing this new Kazdel.

For you too are Sarkaz.

The revenant leaps into the raging flame. His final scrap of kindling is himself.

W stands by the edge of the forge, the fire nipping at the ends of her hair.

She lets out a sigh, pinching the sparks dead.

You still haven't told me where to find the damn thing I'm looking for, you old coot!

If only I had some explosives on hand...

Bam, bang, boom! I'd just blast a way right through the fire.

Hmph.

She jumps down into the forge.

She is burning within the flames. Agony. She screams curse after curse after curse.

The revenant's wail.

Sorrow. Everlasting sorrow.

I will burn everything away.

My kin. The past. Hatred itself.

She continues to drop down, falling free, until she approaches the embers of the very first kindling.

The first revenant who set himself alight.

Within the fires of the forge, she sees the ever-shifting core.

Her tears are wiped away by the heat. Heh.

She smirks, holding the core of the soul that could burn anything and everything.

I've got you now, you old bastard.

The fires cannot be quenched. From one forge to the next...

My shattered soul will burn in yet another cage.

Until I can finally rest in true death's embrace.

Get! Down! Here!

The moment that W touches the forge of the burning soul onboard the airship, a burst of fire separates from it, engulfing her in flames.

The unrelenting heat surges towards her. The revenant intends to burn away the Sarkaz who betrayed her clan.

The heat of the engine is already enough to sear the flesh of her hands.

Let go or die!

Shut the fuck up, you stupid ghost!

Casting aside all concern, she holds tight to the airship's true engine.

Aaaaaagh—

The revenant withdraws himself at an unprecedented speed.

He must return to his forge, immolate himself in the sin-bearing flames—

'W!'

Black Arts pierce the fires, encircling W.

The shadows rushing at her halt for a moment, then find themselves unable to penetrate the black barrier.

You dare obstruct me yet again!

The revenant circles around W's back, becoming her shadow.

He opens himself up, as if he were two great jet-black wings, enveloping all—

Get down here already!

*Ancient Sarkaz profanity*!

The screeching of the engine cuts off.

At last, the beating heart of the flying fortress that had roared across the skies above Londinium and threatened the lives of each and every Victorian stops.

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

'W! W! Wake up, W!'

Old hag—?

(Excited growl)

Who said you could carry me?! Let go, or I'll stick a bomb onto your claws!

(Disapproving poke)

I can only give you some basic wound treatment, W. We have another issue to solve at the moment.

I'm fine. I'm not so easy to kill.

Hey, little bunny, we did some pretty good work together just n—

Amiya, you... How'd you get that badly wounded?

You stretch out an arm to support Amiya, the girl's petite frame trembling slightly.

The revenant suddenly attacked Amiya.;It was thanks to you that we defeated him.

*cough*... Don't worry about me... It isn't that bad.

We should prepare to return to the skeleton now.

The airship has gone completely out of control ever since it lost power.

We're all finished on our end, Logos.

I am glad to hear that you are all safe.

Please wait a moment. I will provide immediate support.

I hope that we can make it in time...

Wait, how come I don't see him?

That old bastard that I ripped apart—

She sees the damaged engine on the floor, bereft of flame, bereft of grief.

The soul-binding core finally shows its true form.

This thing was his core? Kinda looks like a cannon. Seems like it would be pretty handy.

Hmph, the miserable thing ruined my weapons back there, so I guess I can call this my compensation.

He...

Hey, little bunny, you saw it too, right? That old ghost's whole life and all, could be considered rather... what's the right term for it again?

Magnificent in all its glory?

W...

I don't give a musbeast's ass about his sob story.

...I'm just thinking about Her Highness.

This ship, those ghosts of Babel, and the revenant...

We haven't seen Theresa at all.

Where is she?

We've all got lots of questions.;We can face the truth together.

Hey, don't look at me like that. I really don't want to hear that kind of talk from you right now.

And what're you staring at me for, old hag?

I already told you, I won't kill Hood here in front of you, for your sake.

You don't feel different, in any sort of way?

Different?

The revenant has been completely cut off from death.

But he does not reside within this shattered core.

Are you saying that he's hiding in my body? I'm in no mood for your crone lies right now.

Let me give myself a once-over...

Not here... Not over here either... Definitely not down here...

W, your back...

Nah, isn't that just the airship core? You all saw me rip it apart, right?

Wait, I thought this thing was broken?

Why's it look brand-new—

The shadows are flowing within the pipes in the core. Its damaged body is repairing itself with what is clearly metal gleaned from fragments of the airship.

Self-repair?

No, this is not self-repair.

Mon3tr, Structural Fortification!

(Furious roaring)

(Pained howl)

The shadows flow down from the core's body, showing no signs of exhaustion.

In the blink of an eye, all you can see is black.

You—

You have destroyed my hopes of breaking free from the wheel.

Everything I have done, all for naught!

After suffering in the flames for hundreds of years, I was to finally welcome death's late embrace!

But no! Once more you deny me this right!

No more will I be bound! No more will I be merciful!

You have freed me—

And so may you all die in my stead!

You see shadows darker than black.

It is the color of the soul.

His lance, forged from his lifetime of suffering, is aimed right at you.