Liberi Reader

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Blood drips upon the ground.

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

The flowing shadows engulf her.

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

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

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

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.

There is no answer.

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...?

The feeble flame within the forge sputters and flickers.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

'W! W! Wake up, W!'

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

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

The soul-binding core finally shows its true form.

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.

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 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.