Liberi Reader

Using Originium Arts is not the hard part of the combat.

Red and black mist fill the air. The white silhouette within does not speak or move, not even the fringes of its clothes.

It does not dodge or fight back, simply existing there in silence, allowing the barriers around it to wither away.

A void, a vortex that devours everything.

There was no time for Mantra to react. A split second of hesitation is enough to cause a crack in the cognitive realm that she used all her strength to maintain.

She realizes her error almost instantly, but countless responses are already coming from outside the realm.

'More' is a vague answer. She not only hears more, she hears further, hears more details—

She hears the battleship's tracks rumbling across the tundra, the screams that not even Originium engines and guns can drown.

She hears parents speaking southern Ursine dialects, kissing their children goodnight; couples whispering words of love on the balcony before going inside, the curtains left open.

She hears a radio program in the Northern Tundra, interrupted from time to time by the magnetic storms; an old man falling asleep stroking a cloudbeast in his arms in a nursing home...

She feels as though she can hear everything, and she knows she has to interrupt.

Mantra suddenly realizes that she should not be the one saying the words.

At least, not the only one.

Comrades, in the mines, and cities. We are hunted miners from the Far North.

We are still alive, but we are being slaughtered.

We did not betray Ursus.

Ursus abandoned us.