Liberi Reader

The battle between the ducal alliance and the Nachzehrers is brutal.

Just farther ahead is Silverrock Bluffs. The Originium response is intense, and the vehicle has already been paralyzed.

When the Sighs of Kings and the Stone of the Sword become one, we'll be able to see it from our position.

It's only a myth.

When people see things that defy explanation, they tend to exaggerate and romanticize them when passing down those to generations.

I see you've done your homework.

The first time I saw the Sighs of Kings was deep within the palace of the Shahanshah in Sargon.

People regard it as a symbol of the Aslan's royal authority and believe that it can protect any settlement or city. This is indeed true. It is able to neutralize Originium reactions to a certain extent.

That's right. No matter how much effort the Sargonian casters put into unearthing and retrofitting it, it was nothing but a former city defense device.

During the era in which it was put to use, Originium was not yet widely-available across the continent.

I trust that it will be able to temporarily put a stop to Amnannam and give the Feranmut's spine an opportunity to take off, but it is not an inhibitor that can completely seal Originium activity.

Doctor... from your current perspective, what do you think Originium is?

A phenomenon brimming with the unknown? A resource to exploit? Or, perhaps, a source of disaster and disease?

You don't want to, because your answer would be 'all of the above'.

Originium has long been inextricably woven into everything we see – our environment, our technology, our culture, and even our bodies.

If a portion of a limb is necrotic, cutting it off might solve the problem. But, what if the problem stretches from beginning to end?

...

Doctor, you asked me if I've ever experienced disappointment.

Just once.

I allowed myself to become overly dependent on one person, made a series of poor judgments, and paid the price.

But, it doesn't mean that I'll stop believing.

It is difficult enough to rebel against the very foundations of our origins. To pin your hopes on just one technology... or one person, is utterly unrealistic.

Doctor! Dr. Kal'tsit! Please take a look at this!

There's a cave up ahead.

Someone's concealed the entrance.

Crude, twisted. One of the Confessarius illusions.

I'm sure we'll find a witchcraft altar at its deepest point.

We should go to where the Originium response is the strongest.

Under the influence of Amnannam, Originium will come closer to its true nature.

The crystal clusters will merge with all things – living and dead – at an increasing rate, sealing that data inside in an assimilated form.

Originium can only store information within its own structure. As such, any assimilated individuals will completely lose the forms they had in life.

Some may see this as nothing more than instantaneous 'decomposition'.

There are some parallels. In the case of these patients, after their consciousness disperses, their bodies will disintegrate into highly-activated Originium dust over a period of time.

Assimilation, on the other hand, condenses this entire process to the extreme.

Rhodes Island's technology can only delay cell-Originium assimilation rate from reaching a certain threshold. We are not able to truly erect a barrier that can stave off Originium.

Don't worry too much about that, Doctor. The Originium saturation rate in our current environment is far from an extreme level.

Right now, we can still breathe and move about.

If we're quick enough to stop the Originium from spreading further, all hope is not yet lost.

Dr. Kal'tsit, Doctor, I can hear enemy movements.

Logos, please prepare to intercept the enemy.

Intruders?!

It's the Banshee and––

Urgh!

There are quite a few guards, but they're not difficult to manage.

There must be greater dangers yet lurking in the shadows. Doctor, please stay close to us.

The interference of Confessarius witchcraft is making it hard for me to pinpoint the exact location – but the Blood of Teekaz is undoubtedly nearby.

This is...

Duq'arael's obsession.

This so-called pure blood is free of 'impurities'.

By itself, it possesses no inherent power.

Amiya, cut off its connection to the altar.

Got it–

Wait.

...Dr. Kal'tsit?

Mon3tr, attack the corpse of that guard over there!

(Howls)

—

There's another Mon3tr?

No, there's more than just one – all those defeated Confessarius guards... weren't real guards at all!

Near-perfect replicas.

Only he could decorate this cave... to look nearly identical to a real altar.

This was a trap designed to lure us in.

Amiya, get behind me!

(Furious howl)

Doctor!

We seem to have fallen to the deepest level of the false altar.

The Originium was shifting too fast, and I only had time to grab onto you.

I don't know where Dr. Kal'tsit and Logos are... There's too much Originium here, too much information. I can't sense them at all.

What they want is the King of Sarkaz.

The ground is still shaking... Are the crystal clusters still spreading?

Wait, that's...

—

His emotions... are chaotic.

I see only memories – fragmented, blurry, and mashed together...

There will be many more, Doctor.

This is the cave that gave birth to them.

The Confessarii sculpted them from Sarkaz blood and Originium...

And gave birth to these creatures.

They're alive, Doctor.

They aren't chunks of rock, or constructs of witchcraft. They are living beings.

But, they obey only the call of the Confessarius. They do not feel any pain, nor do they cry for their fate.

People would normally call these creatures... 'monsters'.

That's right. Monsters.

Or alternatively... 'Chimeras'.

Who are you even mourning for?

For these mindless kin, or for yourself – the Chimera forced to wear a crown?

(Roars)

...

The fight is about to begin.

Doctor, I won't let the Confessarii trap me a second time.

I'm not so fragile as to let these illusions and nightmares get to me. That name, 'Chimera', is no different from those dream-interrogations. I've heard it many times before.

I have no right to be here, if I let myself get shaken by that.

Beyond that, however... I swore that I'd never let my immaturity drag you down again.

Perhaps...

But, it might not be enough.

...Amiya.

Don't be in such a hurry to leave.

These clones are nothing before my incantations, Damazti.

Or, as you once put it, 'it is time wasted'.

We remember. That performance, and that stroll.

We talked for quite some time.

That day you at least still considered yourself a lord of the Royal Court, despite having a different appearance.

What are you now?

We try to take on different identities.

But, these varying journeys have yet to provide us with an answer.

What we conclude is, the path has neither beginning nor end. It is a cycle.

And you sought out death to prove it.

At death's end, is nothingness.

The myriad souls you speak of have said nothing to us.

Banshee, how did it feel to sound the bone whistle for us?

'Shatter'.

—

There's no end to them.

This is all you can muster? You've lost a lot of bite after your first death.

'Sudaram'.

Banshee... You once killed me as well.

On the battlefield, I am not one of you.

In Kazdel, I was ordered to kill those who betrayed the Royal Court.

You got in my way, and separated my head from my shoulders with your incantations.

You were but a child then, with a puerile voice.

...I remember you.

The traitors you mentioned were a family of three who wanted to flee Kazdel in search of a peaceful life.

They swore an oath of fealty to the Royal Court.

The Royal Court should never be held above ordinary Sarkaz. You may have been a war hero of Kazdel once, but I cannot allow you to slaughter civilians.

So, you chose Babel, and Theresa... all for the sake of your so-called 'ordinary Sarkaz'.

That is the righteous path to the future.

But even after she died, you still didn't return to Kazdel!

You even helped those outsiders steal away the King of Sarkaz!

The inheritance of the King of Sarkaz was a decision made by Her Highness Theresa.

You killed me with your own hands.

When your incantations were coiling around my heart, strangling it... Haha, I couldn't believe it.

After fighting alongside each other for so many years, whatever you felt towards me paled in comparison to those outsiders.

The potted goldengrass you left behind on the ship is growing well now.

After Her Highness's death, how many comrades did you slay with your own hands during the internal strife that engulfed Babel?

The belongings left behind by so many people... I'm sure there's enough of 'em to fill your whole room, huh? Do you feel sorrow every time you look at that patch of grass I planted in that pot on a whim?

If I were to feel sorrow...

It would be because even death has denied you the solace you deserve.

Damazti, you were never so keen to dress yourself up as the 'dead' before.

This exchange of words cannot provide you with any answers, nor can probing my emotions.

Your innate abilities are resonating with the information stored inside the Originium.

Seeing as how your powers have grown thanks to the Originium–

Just as expected.

There's one left... the very last one.

...

It's you.

...

The Sanguinarch of Vampires... Duq'arael.

You're not like the others. I know this.

You are not one of the Damazti's avatars.

Lord Damazti, this portion of you decided to assist Qui'sartuštaj.

No... We have no interest in helping anyone in particular. We are simply... searching for answers.

Kal'tsit, we have met you before. When the Sarkaz were not yet Sarkaz.

You walked across us.

I have no recollection of any such meeting.

At that time, we were unable to speak.

And then...

The first King of Teekaz came in contact with Originium.

That was our first 'awakening'.

The first individual rose up from among us.

We felt one another.

We had existed for an unknown amount of time before that. But, it was only at that moment when we became aware of our existence.

Because we began to 'think'.

Originium will assimilate all lifeforms it comes into contact with.

Not just you. But also the original Vampires, Banshees, and Wendigos... All Teekaz have changed. You are approaching the form of another entity that once existed on this land.

Then, what are you?

(Howls agitatedly)

It seems extremely averse to seeing another self.

Kal'tsit... the Immortal.

Do you still remember what you looked like at first?

The 'Immortal' is a figment of certain people's imaginations, and a misrepresentation of my self.

Time leaves its marks upon me all the same. The original entity by the name of 'Kal'tsit' has long been lost beneath the golden sands.

But, you are still yourself.

We were watching as you were reborn at Theresa's side.

You are different from your previous self, from your appearance to your personality.

We are used to constant change for the sake of survival.

Among the Sarkaz, the Damazti Cluster is unique. We once thought that you were like us.

We know many 'Kal'tsit', just as Kal'tsit knows many of us.

However, we will always be a whole. Each Damazti is a receptor for us to feel this land.

But, 'Kal'tsit' is different. Each Kal'tsit is still you.

I do believe that to be true.

Why?

Is it the inheritance of memory that makes you so persistent? Memory can be easily tampered with and implanted. This, we know, for many long-lived beings have tried such methods.

Such 'immortality' is nothing but an empty lie.

Then, is it some kind of duty...

I won't deny that my life has been duty-bound from the moment I was born.

Looking back, I don't think... I've ever truly been 'alive'.

The substances that make up your body have all been replaced. The memories inherited from your previous self are unreliable. The mission imposed upon you may not even be your own.

Kal'tsit, what is it that has kept the continuity of you across these thousands of years?

A name.

A unique name, or a title? It is a question that so many emotionally deprived Sarkaz would be keenly interested in.

This name, has many meanings.

The person who gave me this name, and the people I care about, are now in danger. This isn't the time for us to be having this chat.

We did not expect you to be this sentimental.

Mon3tr.

(Excited howl)