level_st_16-01

<p=1>The State Council of Ursus</> <p=2>Autumn, 1099</>

Could someone please tell me how much longer His Imperial Majesty will allow this charade to continue? A day? A month? Or perhaps a whole year?

I've quite frankly had enough already. The Victorians have gained the power to control Catastrophes, and even those devil savages have built battleships that fly in the sky.

And yet we are supposed to waste our time discussing how to deal with this jester?

Sir, if I may... This is a kindness bestowed upon us by His Imperial Majesty... After all, many citizens continue to believe the madman still possesses some form of noble virtue, and that is why His Imperial Majesty was willing to allow the judgment to be publicized.

The limit was seven days, and as of moments earlier... it has been six days and twenty-one hours.

Nonsense... Absolute nonsense! Are we supposed to sit here and endure these obscenities, hoping the madman will come to his senses at the toll of the bell on the final day?

Sorry, sir, but I am afraid so. The good news is once the bell tolls, the State Council will begin voting here and now.

And when the time comes, you will never have to endure this ever again.

Hmph... I know that, of course.

Alright, now get out. The clown's death may be a foregone conclusion, but until he is in the ground or burned to ash...

...he will still be Ursus's last Yurodstvo.

Huh? Did my eyes deceive me? That looked like an Imperial Guard uniform...

Is he back already? The break didn't last five minutes... He didn't even have a sip of water during his speech!

The final speech—

All eyes are focused on an out-of-place, ragged man walking to the center of the council hall in big strides.

He is standing tall, yet his limbs seem relaxed. There is no hint of worry for the future or signs of pain that come with the struggle for survival on his face.

Barely five minutes ago, he made a speech here about love, compassion, and how he forgives all those who decided his death.

His six-day-long speech has fatigued his audience, yet he appears completely unaffected. He raises his hand, and all around him immediately fall silent.

He begins to speak with a smile.

My dear friends, or perhaps those who regard me as an enemy. Surely, all of us know that this is the end.

As such, I shall not be discussing the meaning of love, or proclaiming my forgiveness to you for all the mistakes you have made, and all that you put me through.

What I shall now discuss... is the future. The future of a blind, illiterate man.

Preposterous...

We must keep in mind that recounting history is a most noble power, and such power can easily blind us.

For two decades, His Imperial Majesty has shared his glory with his subjects, yet they have never made the necessary preparations to accept his blessings.

I have never once doubted the Tsar's kindness. However, a kindness that is out of time may as well be poison.

No doubt the rebellious Armies and the Northern Tundra Infected have proven my point.

The despicable villains raised their rebellious heads and spilled their vile blood on these holy lands. The arrogant scholars proclaim that they have mastered the truth, yet their harmful words feed on the souls of the innocent like wicked worms.

This ignorant arrogance propagated like wildfire. For this, the masses have forgotten what it means to be humble. The Empire has forgotten what it means to be kind. Now, our grand empire and her citizens find themselves alienated from one another.

I can see the past and the future. Not because I am wise; I am only a fool. Rather, the trajectory of the future is already written in the trails of the past.

I do not regret revealing to the masses the future that I saw. Even if I must stand trial for this, I have no choice but to spread this prophecy.

I saw the end of Ursus. I saw the fall of a great empire.

And that is why I am standing here today. I ask His Imperial Majesty the Tsar to prevent all this. If my worthless life is the price to accomplish this, then please, by all means.

If even more blood needs to be spilled to cleanse Ursus of its filth, then I beg His Imperial Majesty to spill it. For an even greater cause, and for Ursus's eternal glory.

Once this trial is over, no matter the sentence, I shall begin my sacred journey.

Again and again, I shall extol the virtues of humility in an attempt to restore our unity and the Empire's glory.

Perhaps you think me an arrogant man overstepping my place, but I lead no armies and make no laws.

Perhaps you think I am fatally ill, but I am not a madman, nor am I out of my mind.

My hands are emptier than even those of the junkmen. My clothes are more tattered than even those of the Infected. All I've done—my mistake—is to see a different history and to hear different voices than the others.

The traditions that drive us never to whitewash our pain, long buried deep underground, will again be unearthed.

The cries that compel us never to attempt diminishing this cruelty, long fallen silent, will again ring loud and clear—

When that time finally arrives, perhaps... perhaps our great nation's future will change for the better. All angers will be quelled, all sins will be forgiven, and all pain...

All of it will be assuaged by the purity of patience.

<p=1>Northern Tundra Wilderness, Ursus</> <p=2>Year ■■■■</>

Quick! Run!

Keep running and don't look back! Just like the others!

No, we won't get away... We can't run from this! Even if we make it out of Ursus, nothing but death awaits!

*cough*— *cough cough*!

Stop breathing so hard. You're going to breathe the snow in and choke—

Indeed.

He will choke on his blood.

*cough*—

What? How did you break free so fast? No way... Impossible—

You are a clever one, but it is not enough. The illusion you cast on me was rooted in your own experiences, to a certain extent.

Your mistake was not realizing that putting us through the pain in your illusion is like trying to shift mountains with a feather.

At the very least, this demonstrated your power. You have what is needed to become <i>its</i> replacement.

I told you. I don't know a thing about you or your demonic power testing, and I'm not interested.

This is not an invitation. This is an ultimatum. Of course, you have been able to save them not once, not twice... but three times before I tired of this.

But I tire of this charade now.

Stay back, unless you want to take away my corpse.

Your 'voice' is no longer calm. You are beginning to doubt yourself.

What is the price to use the Yurodstvo's power when you are not one?

I don't understand what you are getting at.

All things have a price, and you are nearing your end.

Perhaps we're both going to die together at that end.

Just us.

So you did not hear them... or perhaps you simply do not have the energy left to notice more?

You did not hear the sound of those footsteps on the snow... You are trying to save these people, even if it means sacrificing yourself to kill us... yet you are unable to hear that they are only meaningless parasites.

They are never willing to stray too far from their homeland. They claim to be unwilling to turn their backs on their motherland and hold onto the meagerest glimmer of hope. If they choose to run, they intentionally slow their steps, or even turn back to face their deaths.

By leaving this place, they will become unable to confirm their own existence, even if this existence would bring them nothing but despair.

Unfortunately, your warning is meaningless.

What—

Just as you told them.

'Do not look back.'

Ugh—!

*cough*— *cough cough*! Hah—

I don't wish to bring Ursus a Yurodstvo whose bodily functions are ruined. This would waste a lot of time. Even with your abilities, it's hardly a fair deal.

Thus, again I recommend that you give up, and come with me.

I'll say it again, too. I have no idea what a 'Yurodstvo' is, and I have no interest in becoming one!

Besides, even if I go with you, what about the Infected? The ones you chased... into a dead end...

They have their own destiny to walk.

No...

Perhaps you should 'speak' your mind more clearly.

I said, no.

I need to...

There is silence and tension all around. A complete 'sentence' has yet to surface out of the aether, and the snow continues to fall around them, but the black entity has stopped marching forward.

Before the next cluster of snow even touches the ground, a dark mist has already begun to spread.

'Stay.'

He suddenly loses his urge to continue forward. The other half of his cognition, stripped of reason, waits for the sight he saw earlier to reappear.

The same trick won't work twice...

But nothing. There is nothing.

There is only the inexplicable pause, the pitch black substance endlessly emanating from him, and the thick dust accumulated from the mist.

Almost like there is black snow falling.

What...? But I—

....Ah.

The demon inside of me has but a slight leak, yet you are able to use my power to shackle me?

I am just using the... illusion in that filth trapped in your body to make you face yourself.

No more meaningless struggles. Else...

*cough*...

Else, you will die.

In your own Dominion...

*cough*–– *cough* *cough*!!!

Now sleep...

<i>Bozhe moy.</i> This... This—

Boy... Boy! Are you okay? Is that black monster still coming after us—

—Aah!!!

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

He... won't chase you anymore.

What?

Quick. Get out of here. Head south before he comes to. And don't you turn back again.

You have to leave this place, if you want to live...

Wh-What are you talking about? He won't chase us anymore?

What's that supposed to mean?

*cough*—

Are you saying you managed to convince that unreasonable lich?

Enough! Go!

Go...? Go where?

The preacher told us before: 'Those who turn their backs on the motherland can scarcely be called human.' We... We don't want that!

We don't want to turn our backs on the Tsar, on Ursus... and you...

You managed to get him to stop chasing us... You saved us, and you accomplished the impossible, but you still won't tell us your name? Just who are you?

That's not important. I...

Or... are you perhaps—

Are you perhaps the Yurodstvo who vanished long ago?

What...?

But the Yurodstvo should be in the splendorous palaces of Deity Grypherburg, at the Tsar's side.

No...

Right. Right! If you don't belong here, then this blessing received is a stolen one. In that case, it's only fair that we're punished for it.

'We must endure,' 'we must persevere...' 'We must be silent!' But we haven't been able to do any of that...

Even so, you protected these sinful souls.

In that case, you must be the Yurodstvo. Otherwise, you wouldn't have the kindness and compassion to offer the Infected a helping hand, as equals.

In that case, there is only one name you could bear.

The name that you don't want us praising. The name shared by all Yurodstvos.

'Gabrielus.'

Gabrielus. Gabrielus...

It's the Yurodstvo. Our Yurodstvo has returned!

The Yurodstvo? Like the one in the tales?

Is it the Yurodstvo that Mama said would love us even if we had the Stone Disease, even if it is not by our side?

Yes, it's her! She has returned! She defeated the villains and saved us! That's something only the Yurodstvo could do!

The Yurodstvo has saved us! Yurodstvo—

The boisterous crowd and their hands all gush toward her.

They keep pushing and pulling, like waves splashing upon a beach, all in an attempt to so much as touch the corner of their idol's shirt, even if her attire is hardly any different from the tattered clothing they are wearing.

Fully surrounded, she is no longer able to prop herself up or think. The moment her knees twitch and fall to the snow, she seems as though she is going to collapse and pass out right here and now.

But she can't. Not here. The Royal Guard is still here, and those executioners who want to use her to kill even more people are still here. She can't close her eyes. She can't... give up just yet.

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

Ugh—

That moment, she even seems to think that her tongue is once again working with her mouth to clearly enunciate her words. However, her body simply curls up quietly and gets smaller... and smaller.

She endures it until the pain subsides.

Yurodstvo—

She is not the Yurodstvo, yet there is a price to pay.

And despite being the one mistaken for the Yurodstvo, she doesn't know what's the price she has to pay for this absurd charade. Sometimes, not knowing the price is itself a price.

Mantra? What's wrong?

The leader's quiet voice suddenly echoes in all the Rhodes Islanders' minds.

Everyone, stop.

This...

Repeat. Everyone, stop immediately.

The area ahead is demonically corrupted.

Demonic corruption? Here?

But aren't we one-third of an Ursus away from Sami? How could this possibly—

Doctor?

This may not be a normal demonic corruption...;'Dominion.'

<p=1>Central Far North Mining District, Ursus</> <p=2>Autumn, 1101</>

Raidian's squad's last known coordinates should be around here.

According to the timestamp of the signal sent back to the city, they last sent out a message ten days ago.

The laboratory she mentioned is roughly three kilometers up ahead.

Mon3tr, have you faced the Royal Guard before?;Mon3tr, are you able to analyze anything here?

I'm looking.

Based on the scale and shape of the corruption, this is very likely to be caused by 'Dominion.'

Right, a fight against the Royal Guard probably took place here.

It's strange, though. For such an intense battle, there aren't any traces of Arts nearby.

I understand you are worried, Doctor.

But knowing Raidian, she would definitely have tried to leave tracks we could decipher.

At the very least, this explains something happened here that called for the Royal Guard's involvement.;Clearly that the Grand Duchess is hiding something from us.

Raidian's squad might be in an extremely dangerous predicament.;Raidian's squad might have been involved in whatever happened here.

Correct.

Whether they were going after Raidian or the laboratory, it seems we need to pick up the pace.