Liberi Reader

*cough*—

Phew. That woman nearly got me—

C-Cassia? I've been looking for you forever! Where'd you run off to earlier?

Lucilla?

What are you doing here, child?

The city unit framework needs servicing; it's a standard combat duty. But... look at the beacon tower... What happened inside the city?

The Seaborn have broken into Milliarium. That tower has become one of their nests.

Leave this to me. You should get out of here, quick.

It's too risky. I'll stay here with you.

No need to—Urgh.

Are you hurt?!

Yes.

It must have been the Seaborn as you came over—

Did someone attack you?

*cough*!

Wait, why are you pulling out the safety valve?

Hey, don't push it! It'll cut off the ground level self-diagnostic system, and the city framework will stop working—

No, you know that way better than I do...

You've been trying to do this all along, Cassia? Are you... with the Church of the Deep?

......

When the Sea Patrol investigated Tullia, you deliberately turned them against her? Don't tell me it was you who made her disappear—

Longbeard combtooth grass. Something made by a friend in charge of raising road-side coral. Don't move. You'll die if its bristles pierce your skin. Quite painfully, if I may add.

Now—*cough*—Leave this place, child. Once it senses you've gone far enough, it'll fall off by itself.

You want to leave, don't you?

To be honest, before we became coworkers, I happened to see your assessment at the Institute of Development Planning.

......

You care so much about that data scientist because you've never forgotten that evacuation of Milliarium, have you?

You watched as the distant lights of the volcanic power station went out, surrounded in endless darkness, with only strange rumbles and rustling carried to you by the currents...

The ocean as it once was.

At that very moment, you were the closest to the ocean out of all of Milliarium. You, standing at the mezzanine of the dome, all alone.

The IDP assessment was that there was too great a psychological burden, which is why they agreed to transfer you from the dome system to ground level. Your so-called 'fear of heights' was just a little joke of yours.

I'm afraid that you yourself don't even realize what lies deep within your heart.

......

The remaining Seaborn will soon discover that this route is still open. You wouldn't want to meet them again.

Go, quickly, before it's too late.

......

Lucilla?

Hah, in any other situation, I'd definitely give you a piece of my mind, or stuff this whatever-grass into my ink bottle and tell you this sort of practical joke is beneath you.

But it's so bright... the light from where the tower sank in, from the dome above us... Every Seaborn on the whole continental shelf is rushing towards Milliarium, right?

Just what is behind those strangely colored lights?

You're not wrong, Cassia. The Seaborn have eroded away at our lives. I've experienced the truth of that myself, and I'll never forget.

I envied Tullia. Our experiences were so similar, but she was able to protect what she treasured all along. An amazing woman, really!

And look at me, I escaped the dome and got back to the ground. Before you arrived, I was even thinking of escaping from here, too.

But where would I go?

I can't let you break the framework, Cassia. I can't let the Seaborn get into any other Milliarium's unit, even if this grass thing kills me in the process!

Because... Because there's no going back for me.

*cough*...

You really are strong, child.

Laurentina's parents once told me that while the dome may be beautiful, this transparent structure is actually the true eye of the city.

In fact, I've been asking myself recently... Since we're at war right now, shouldn't the eye be on the lookout for danger?

You can let go now, Lucilla.

Cassia, she...

Temporarily paralyzed. I only managed to graze her with my shot, which is why the paralytic took so long to take effect.

Sorry for putting you at risk.

This is Consul Clementia. Citizens of Milliarium, heed me!

Once the city unit containing the beacon tower has been fully ejected, the rest of the city shall break through the Seaborn encirclement and move towards dry land!

Reactivate the linkage mechanism in the city's framework and perform a structural reorganization. Force fields at full power! We'll stop the Seaborn tide from setting a single tentacle onto land!

Legions VIII and X, along with the Sea Patrol: send all operational warships out in turn to escort the city!

It might be more appropriate if you were the one to handle the report regarding Cassia, Lucilla.

I see. You should be heading straight to the port now. The mission just declared by the consul is more urgent.

Cassia's already subdued. I'll take her to a doctor first, and then... she should be punished.

And if the city is going to undergo structural reorganization, the dome system will be the focal point of the force field to hold off the Seaborn. So they could probably use some extra hands up there...

Maybe I should submit an urgent application to return to my old post.

You're very brave, Lucilla.

Oh, so you heard all that earlier...

I did. Before you submit that application though, you ought to see a doctor yourself. Longbeard combtooth grass does in fact contain a potent neurotoxin.

Ah. Right, I will.

Ramming armor, check. Ship cannon mounts, check. Monitors, check. Camouflage coating, check. Propulsion system, check. All system diagnostics complete, ready to launch.

We'll be heading to the designated waters at full speed to block the Seaborn tide from the north.

All weapon system permissions granted. No need to hold back. Don't let them get near Milliarium.

We'll do everything we can.

You're just part of the first sortie. We'll be sending the rest of our ships into battle after you.

You're to escort Milliarium in shifts while it's reorganizing, serving as an extension of its 'Great Wall' and preventing the Seaborn from making landfall.

So remember, the moment you get the order to change shifts, you must return to resupply immediately.

Understood.

Seaborn spotted!

The remaining Seaborn in the city are attacking the port! Do not let them approach the warship docks!

(Pained convulsions)

Not content with ambushing us in their nest, they made a sneak attack on our city, too?

...How annoying.

(Rapidly flaps fins)

Wrapping around a statue? What, have the Seaborn developed a taste for art since entering the city?

That said, the Sorrowdrinker is hardly a masterpiece, so I won't feel too bad when I've reduced it to rubble.

Honestly, I think it's got more charm with an arm broken off.

Thanks for the glowing review, Skadi. Are you feeling better now?

Yeah, ever since we left the nest.

Good to hear.

It's the Hunters!

The Abyssal Hunters have safely returned to the city!

Swordfish.

Captain Gladiia, you've met...

Yes.

I saw him.

We've arrived at the right time. You must have heard Secunda's report over the emergency frequency.

Infiltrating Milliarium, breaking into the beacon tower's control room, murdering the weapons technology advisor of the Waterway Program, and finally, choosing to return to the ocean with the Seaborn.

Ulpianus has not made it easy to clear him of suspicion.

To capture him, or even execute him is a duty we Abyssal Hunters must perform in the future.

Captain Gladiia...

......

But for the moment, our mission is to search for the remaining Seaborn scattered around the city units, and put every last one of them to the sword.

...What must be said, I have said.

You've avoided answering the question at the heart of all this, Mártus.

The question... at the heart...?

From your description, everything that transpired beneath the ruins, the crimes you committed and the consequences incurred... They all seemed to stem from some mysterious 'inevitability.'

But the Mártus I know was an eccentric yet gifted man. He was doubtful by nature, and not one for making arbitrary decisions.

He would not have rashly discarded all reason and played at being the mystic. And he would have been even less inclined to reject his own existence, or ignore the worth of others.

The choices I have made, the outcomes I have borne.

Why do you care what the past Mártus thought, before he made his decision?

His past choices have made you who you are now. Without understanding his reasoning, we cannot understand your existence.

You would care about such trifles as well, Kal'tsit?

(The nuclei within its skull spin)

I understand now.

Of course you would care. How could you not?

The human that once ate the strange flesh experienced such struggle, too. Was it a day, or perhaps several? In the depths of the ruins, time holds no measure.

He feared. He doubted. He was compelled to think over every possibility.

Where will the next crisis come from? When will it descend upon Terra? He used a lifetime of knowledge to attempt to decipher the undecipherable, to comprehend the incomprehensible.

If there exists a lifeform that could survive the cosmos of quietus, even if only as a singular being, how would it be born?

Given infinite time, even the tiniest fin will be able to type out the ultimate truth of all things on a terminal using its tail. But time was our most precious resource.

Admittedly, the Feranmut before him had foreseen our ruinous prospects, but could He and His progeny continue bearing the torch of life through it all?

Supposing they could, before they instinctually iterate a way of overcoming that destruction in a limited time, how large a population and how efficient a fecundity would they require?

Would they have to consume a patch of sea? A whole planet? An entire star system? How many must die to support their lives?

Supposing they could not, then where did the true answer lie? On the other side of the ocean? On the other side of the sky? Or perhaps it is somewhere out in the sea of stars, untouchable by Terran hands?

Even if you spent your entire life simulating, you would not have been able to obtain a definite conclusion.

The information you possessed was simply insufficient to calculate every possibility.

Indeed, Kal'tsit. But the past Mártus had no choice but to try.

Danger and possibility both hung above his head, while below his feet he found only an unseen tightrope.

You could have informed your country from the start.

Ægir would have helped take on your burdens. The oldest records of the Academy of Science could verify the past you saw. The latest inventions of the Academy of Technology could model the future you envisioned.

To cede the choice to others. Is that a solution, or an escape?

The choices of the countless many against the choices of the few. Are they more accurate, or more ambiguous? More earnest, or more capricious?

Suppose the means for life to continue is not civilization, and the species that transcends ruin is not humanity. If so, how would Ægir react?

Enough, Mártus.

If you had thought of every possibility and foresaw the bitter price to pay, then your final decision is even more inexcusable.

No, Ægir, I do not mean to defend my choices.

What I wanted to say was that, at the time, there was an immature lifeform that interrupted my flights of fancy.

If there is any life that can survive that future of quietus, no matter what form it takes...

It is worth fighting for, no matter the cost.

'There is no justice here. Only the path ahead.'

You should understand now why you must help we many evolve.

You are not the first one the Doctor and I have seen who can barely qualify as human, but they all made their hard choices.

No one had ever made a choice as horrifying as yours.

Before you ate that flesh to become a Seaborn, you had already renounced thinking as a human does.

From my perspective, that which you abandoned in your final moments—your doubts, misgivings, concerns, and struggles—were the most precious of treasures.

......

The Seaborn are swallowing Terra's life whole. You have not denied this, nor can you stop it. How are we to see them as our hope?

What is your choice then, Kal'tsit? To incubate Originium?

The collapsed stargate, the extinguished sarcophagi... Of the countless failed plans, is Originium the only one still in operation?

Stones amidst the land and sky, ever silent. They are an incurable disease, harming life atop dry land.

And yet, they are a plan left by the prehistoric civilization, one expected to save all existence at the very end... In ways incomprehensible to the average person.

Glub—The stairwell to survival can only be forged in the fires of destruction.

No. Such destruction must not happen.

Much like Caerula Arbor, Originium at some point turned to the annihilation you speak of. It changed in ways none can understand, and none can reverse.

And since it has changed, it must now be stopped.

Whatever the case, using life to feed life or ruin to beget ruin would only serve to remove all meaning from survival.

...Kal'tsit. Or rather, AMa-10 from the records. You surprise me.

You and I should have arrived at the same conclusion via different paths. No. You should have been even more rational, more decisive.

I merely noticed a spark of the prehistoric civilization and took on its mantle. You, however, were born for this task. You held aloft its torch eons before I did.

You have kept watch over their distant aspirations and legacies. You have carried out your assigned mission. You witnessed changes. You bore loss... No human could have toiled for as long as you have.

But now...

Has endless 'life' rendered you feeble, Kal'tsit? Has it turned you human?

Was it... because of this one?

Dr. {@nickname}, or rather... Oracle?

Many facilities, many doors, your fingerprints, face, voice... Within the cerulean cave, among the ruins... traces of you lie everywhere.

You have visited the depths of the abyss before.

I recognized you. I have been speaking with Kal'tsit until now only because it is more efficient.

You must know the truth. Your visitation is sure to have meaning. Perhaps you are able to explain why the project is at a standstill.

But your title is different now; something has happened to you. Otherwise, Kal'tsit would have held no doubts about what had happened to the plan.

For several reasons, the Doctor is unable to remember many of the things back then.

(The nuclei within its skull spin)

'Memory loss'... Glub, unsurprising.

Losing one's memory is perhaps the most insignificant sacrifice you could make.

Even the most resilient of life cannot withstand the ravages of tens of thousands of years. The fact that you still exist upon Terra is in itself a miracle.

What I saw, what He saw, what They saw. Those frightful visions are an absolute truth to you.

You have lost your proud civilization and homeland. Heaven and earth have lost all color. Time and space have become vast prisons.

You have been exiled by despair. You have stopped to rest upon Terra. You have not escaped your fated ruin... All men will perish, all things rendered meaningless.

Despite this, you have not stopped fighting for hope. This planet has been forever marked by your resistance... Even if those marks are mostly wreckages.

I revere you and your cause. You, the people of a bygone age.

Dr. {@nickname}, whether you accept it, deny it, or are undecided, it matters not to me. I am not hoping to win your understanding.

I seek not your approval.

You, and your comrades, had planted hope in the depths of the sea. A possibility. A spark.

Perhaps you have forgotten it. Perhaps you have renounced it. Perhaps you now stand against it, come what may. Now, it is I who tends to this light. And I shall not see it extinguished.

The rejection of our flame's kindler will not waver the many's resolution.

Let's stop trying to prove ourselves. We shall return to the reality itself.

We many sense the oncoming crisis. Perhaps the eye beyond the clouds has caught a glimpse of Terra's exceptionality, a sword hanging above all our heads.

Terra is but a cage, trapping countless souls unaware of the truth.

Now there is a crack in the bars. A crisis, also an opportunity.

Sight. Sound. Smell. Touch. The rushing of the ocean waves.

Within the cage that is Terra, the children of the sea are the most resilient race. Never have they stopped evolving.

You cannot deny that We Many have become the most magnificent of miracles. They will become the sparks in the wake of the Big Bang, the seeds from which the cosmos will blossom once more.

They are the closest to... success.

Tell me, Kal'tsit, Dr. {@nickname}, and the Ægir...

Do you now choose humanity, Originium, or the Seaborn?

It is true that a crisis fast approaches. There are still many questions I am unable to answer. Many truths I am unable to grasp.

But this does not imply that life can be reduced to a hollow concept. That would simply erase its original meaning.

You consider this a weakness, Mártus. I consider it my drive, bestowed upon me by this endless life of mine.

The Seaborn are a calamity that must be stopped.

On this, the Doctor and I will not change our positions, and neither will Rhodes Island.

Without civilization, how can you speak of survival?

......

Without survival, how can you speak of civilization?

This ridiculous debate has gone far enough, Mártus.

We have excised the diseased organ from Milliarium. Your 'kin' in the city are being eliminated as we speak.

You'll have plenty of time to reflect on what you've done and share the rest of your secrets with us in prison.

(Furious howl)

You, Ægir, and that ebon monster...

It is futile to contain me. You alone, your city alone, are not enough to slay me. To slay Ishar-mla.

The city has completed its reorganization. I can imagine how it will look as it bars our current, but we many will surpass it.

There is no right or wrong here. So let your brief resistance provide our soundest proof.

Next, I will rouse the slumbering Firstborn. I will lead our kin to the moons.

You will become a part of this magnificent cycle, Kal'tsit. As will you, Dr. {@nickname}.

......

Maestro.

Su Santidad, I am here to make my report.

No need. Ægir has already informed us of what transpired beneath the waves.

What of Kal'tsit and the Doctor of Rhodes Island?

They're still in the city.

We're connected, sir.

Th-This is...?

A real-time image of the sea's surface. All thanks to Ægir's drone matrix projecting directly onto the great lighthouse's display.

The Seaborn tide and the Ægirian city, both approaching the land. They're less than ten nautical miles away.

—

M-Maestro! Doña Irene!

You stay here, Jordi.

This lighthouse will be our final bastion. The Penal Battalion's operations will depend on its signals. Do what you can to keep it going.

No, not that—

Look out the window.

...Light.

Is that... a lighthouse?

But aren't we at the only operational Eye of Iberia?

What's going on? Why are we suddenly receiving so many identical signals?

The lighthouses along the submerged coast, which have sat in silence for more than half a century...

They have all lit up at once!

¡Dios mío!

The silent technology of the Islanders... What are you responding to?

......

(Faint mechanical cry)

—!