There’s a machine in this dilapidated room.

A long, bulky lever is at the center of the machine adorned with springs.

The urge… to pull it… is growing… stronger… and stronger.

What will you do?

A steel door rests on one side of the room.

It looks too thick to be easily broken or breached with force.

“There’s gotta be something totally valuable through here if it’s guarded this tight~!”

The Sinner might be right, treasure might be waiting behind the door.

What should you do?

You see a large gate in the distance.

There’s something eerie about the pointed fences and stone walls.

It looks to be the only way through this area, but it’s guarded by a large number of Inquisitors.

Is there anything we can do about them?

Dozens of old, broken crates littered the floor.

“Eyuck, cobwebs…”

Clearing things away, you found three particularly large crates buried underneath.

“These are all locked.”

“Looks like the keyholes have the same shape!”

“…Alas, the key is of a soft constitution. It won’t be feasible to use it again once it has been inserted into a lock.”

Sounds like you get only one try.

Which one should you open?

The N Corp. Inquisitors were busy torturing someone.

“GIAAAAH!”

A filtered scream fills the cramped room.

Their victims are people with prosthetic bodies.

“……”

Sinclair didn’t utter a word, but his eyes full of wrath and fear were fixed on the torturers.

He breathed heavily at irregular intervals, his body shaking; he looks like he might charge forth at any second.

Do you stop him?

Or…

“Gehk, what’s this odor…”

The Sinners frowned at the olfactory assault.

Following their eyes, you find an Inquisitor collapsed on the floor.

“Definitely dead…”

The smell must be coming from the rotting corpse.

While everyone was hesitant to approach, you see something sparkle.

There seems to be something amidst the writhing manes…

What will you do?

You hear snappy mechanical noises through the closed door.

“Sounds like a cry for help…”

As you focus your attention, you begin to hear footsteps.

“Steel… Those are clangs of steel…”

Sinclair froze.

It looks like an Inquisitor is coming for them.

What will you do?

The passage was red-hot.

“Yeesh, that’d melt my shoes.”

The Sinners carefully approached the road, only to retreat from the overwhelming heat.

Something was written on the sign in front of the passage:

Prove your humanity

And through weakness and suppuration

Sear a path with mobilization

It took no time at all to figure out what that meant.

…What will you do?

You see a pedestal adorned with the engravings of a nail and hammer.

“Must have something to do with N Corp.”

A Sinner mutters, and you agree.

Should you try to get some info on N Corp? Or…

An inscription above the closed gate reads:

Prove your terror and fears

Fill this vessel with tears

Looking around, you find the supposed vessel next to an unpleasant-looking chair.

What will you do?

You find a row of glass containers in a corner of the main area.

Inside them are dried organs and pieces of life showing active movement.

“A tragic display…”

The containers can be opened easily. You could take one of the pieces if you want to.

What will you do?

A passage is written above the large gate:

Only those who repent may find motion

Thorn yourself, atone through flagellation

It looks like it wants us to impale ourselves on spikes.

What will you do?

Hideously transformed N Corp. Inquisitors stood guard at the gate.

You moved to attack, but they don’t appear to be hostile in any capacity.

“Only. Exceptional… ones. Are allowed. In, this place.”

“To… pass. You, will. Prove yourself. Worthy.”

You aren’t exactly sure what they mean by “proving yourself”.

What should you do?

A broken K Corp. drone is tumbling on the floor.

I can only revive Sinners where I can see the star, so in the meantime...

We might be able to find an ampule to use if we search through it.

It's filled with K Corp's ampules.

"Ooh~ Good for us! Hey Dante, can't we take at least one of those?"

"Negative. The ampule injector is only in this room, so it will not be possible to use them outside of this place."

...What will we do?

"Are these... eggs?"

"Please be careful. It might be an Abnormality."

Come to think of it, I was told that the underground lab K Corp. set up also managed eggs from the L Corp. branch.

"Whoa, hey... Is this thing twitching?"

As the Sinner observed, an egg begins to move.

What will we do?

The area twisted, and a cabinet appeared from it.

You see some items in its drawers.

"Are those... stars up there?"

Looking up, we saw a scenery that looks like a night sky through a crack.

"Lo, a shooting star!!"

I heard that making a wish while a shooting star falls can make it true.

Maybe we'll try it?

<i>AFloweringTreestands inthemiddleofthePlain.

NootherFloweringTreesarenearby(近處).

TheFloweringTreestood

WithFlowersbloomedinEarnest(熱心)

MuchlikehowitthinksofFloweringTreesinitsThoughtsinEarnest.</i>

What will you do?

The space twists.

At the same time, a familiar cry is heard from behind.

It somehow bears resemblance to the cry of an Abnormality we reduced to an egg earlier.

"Start running!!"

Thirteen Sinners haphazardly rushed down the path.

"In there!"

"T-That looks like a dead end..."

The Sinners seem scared... Do we still go in there?

Mysterious figures glimmer in the window.

Should we do something?

So soon after setting sail...

"Woah!"

... We started hearing something shaking underneath the ship.

"What's that...?"

"Forsooth, there may be a foe underneath our ship, scratching!

"... Yeah, that's ominous. We should check it out."

What do we do?

We entered a narrow waterway of sorts.

"... Executive Manager."

I see Mermaids swimming under the ship.

Mermaids latched onto the walls are glaring at us as well.

"This place, hard to steer. Steer and keep track of directions, hard to do at once."

Someone'll have to keep track of the directions.

Who should keep track of the directions?

After defeating the Abnormality, we sailed for a while without much incident. That was when...

"A wall..."

... a thick, solid wall appeared before us.

"Artery. Beyond this wall."

"Wall opens. Closes. Opening is very short. Don't get grabbed by Mermaid there. Chopped in half, if grabbed by mermaid."

And with a heavy rumble, the wall immediately started to open.

"Keep Mermaids off ship. They slow us down, we get cut in half."

The Mermaids must've sensed the rumbling. They begin rushing at our ship.

Who will take vanguard in keeping the Mermaids off our ship?

This has to be the artery Ahab was talking about. Once we cut this thing open... our path to the center of the heart will open.

"Is that... a wooden crate?"

The Sinners found a haphazardly thrown pile of crates.

"It can be extrapolated from their appearances that they were to be used as supply crates."

Some boxes has the Twinhook Pirates' logo drawn on them. Some of them has the Before Team's logo.

The Whale must've swallowed these crates, too.

"'Tis wise to procure some of them as our provisions!"

Right. We don't know what'll happen once we get to the heart.

Should we take some of them, just in case?

"It's us Kurokumo Clan's turf from here on out."

"Is it that hard for you to understand that you gotta pay the toll to use our road? Huh?"

People dressed in Kurokumo Clan garb stand in the way of unarmed civilians, threatening them.

"... I suppose that excuse was enough for them to tread on our territory as well."

Aeng-du does not hide her indignation. She is gritting her teeth.

What should we do about them?

"This must be a tavern..."

This bar or an inn is bustling, and its patrons are energetically chattering away. They all seem to be in a rather good mood.

A trio among the crowd is quite boisterously arguing and pointing fingers at each other.

"No, NO! I don't understand why this is even a matter of dispute! A blade is a weapon made for cutting, and the 'right' way to use a blade is to slash with it."

"You don't know what you're talking about! Stab a single point with all your might, and your foe shall surely fall!"

"... You're both wrong. Your half-hearted cuts and stabs won't do anything but piss 'em off. They'll be back on their feet immediately!"

"Smack their skulls with the blunt end—hilt or the scabbard, and knock them down for good! Make 'em too dazed to get up!"

The trio appeared to be talking about something pretty serious, so we'd stopped to listen to their debate...

They suddenly turned in our direction and called over to us.

"You there! Your band can clearly handle your weapons, am I wrong?"

"Answer us. What is the best way to wield your sword?"

"Of course, to slash is the best way to use a blade, is it not?"

What should I say to that?

"This is odd... this mist is..."

I don't know when it happened, but a thick layer of mist had descended all around us.

"I have heard a tale of one such nightly stroll. In this tale, a clueless traveler heedlessly wanders into a brumous haze, and finds himself afore an otherworldly being—"

"AAAGH! Stop, stop it!"

Just as the Sinners began loudly bickering with each other, I realized that there was something hazy standing in our way.

"Is that thing... dancing?"

A mysterious thing, dressed in white, danced gracefully before us with a large blade in hand.

When it met my gaze... or, when I thought it did...

... a sheathed blade had materialized in my hand.

What does it want me to do with it?

We hear a pair of voices as we walk alongside a stone fence. The two travelers are both carrying blades.

"I pity the people here..."

"Well, the decision of a Wing is absolute for its feathers. There is very little they can do about it."

One of them stands out—their clothing sets them apart from the locals. Maybe they're not from around here.

"Still, to allow the Kurokumo Clan to make their way in here? That's too much."

"The Wing cares about naught else but fluttering its wings. All else becomes insignificant."

Sounds like they're talking about the current S Corp.

"More outsiders, I see. How convenient."

The pair stops in their tracks, then turns around to face us.

"The Kurokumo Clan... no. You do not wear their garb. You don't appear to be peasants seeking to make some cash in the chaos of the Backstreets, either..."

"Well, then. What do you outsiders think of the current climate?"

How should I answer this?

Shimmering blue letters float before you.

The way that these similar words are ordered makes it difficult to understand what it's trying to say.

To say what is right is right and what is wrong is wrong is not right,

but that is not to say that to say what is wrong is right and right is wrong is wrong.

To say that what is wrong is right and right is wrong is not wrong,

and to say that what is right is right and what is wrong is wrong is, in turn, to say that this wrong is right.

... Does it want my impression of these words?

What is it talking about?

Just another busy, busy watch factory.

"!@#$!#$#!$@#$!$#@$."

A man in shiny dress shoes and a clean set of suit, clearly the factory's owner, is shouting at his employees in dirty, oil-gunked work clothes.

Something seems to catch his eye, causing him to glare at one of the employees and scream with anger.

The employee, who is already occupied with his work, gets flustered and tries to say something. But it takes him ages to even open his mouth.

The owner pulls out a recorder in a frustrated attempt to communicate, but it doesn't help.

"I just checked the security camera. You've been napping for two whole hours! Explain yourself."

"F… … … a… … …"

"… … c… … … t…"

"Can't you speak any faster, man?!"

Maybe there's something around here to resolve this situation?

You find yourself at a random T Corp. street. A Collection Staff is collecting taxes from a citizen.

"Will you be making your payments in time, or in cash?"

"Like I said, we already paid our Time Taxes in full! Besides, three-hundred-million Ahn? That's absurd...!"

"The records state that you have accrued additional Time Tax responsibilities due to the donation gift tax."

"No way. Is this because I gave away my time to those kids in the Backstreets?"

"I only gave them three hundred hours, so how the hell does that suddenly snowball into a three-hundred-million Ahn in taxes?! That doesn't make any sense!"

"Tax calculations in T Corp. are always exceptionally accurate."

The Time Collector strides toward the citizen to neutralize them.

People from all walks of life, all with different hours to spend in a given day, speak and move about in varying speeds.

The sound coming from this odd inequality fills the street with incongruence.

Two people catch your attention in that chaos.

A rich-looking youth, despite his apparent time affluence, is walking in a brisk pace toward the streets...

... and a poor-looking old man, despite his apparent time poverty, is slowly walking into an alley with a leisurely look on his face.

Who to follow?

A secret hideout of the Yurodiviye. A Yurodivy is fervently reciting the texts given to them by the Saint.

"We have become nothing but cogs in a machine that exists solely for the industrialists, the bourgeoisie, and the Wings."

"What else, what other human relation remains among the Citizens but the narrow self-interest and heartless bonds created by capital?

"Thus, we shall cast aside the cold, unfeeling metal we call coin; instead, we shall trade our warmth with one another based on our needs!"

"To the haves, the laws of the Nests are shields that protect their privileges; yet, to the have-nots, they are chains that shackle us!"

"Then we shall defy the laws of the Nest! We shall show them the wrath of the have-nots!"

"All that the Yurodiviye have to lose is our chains; all that we have to gain is a world without hunger!"

The Yurodivy suddenly points in our direction.

Looks like we're going to have to say something.

You see a victim of the Time Ripper.

You can't even touch them thanks to the spatio-temporal displacement superposition phenomenon.

Is there anything you can do here to help?

You enter the Dungeon of the Fathoms. It resembles a T Corp. street.

Past the crowds of busy passers-by, you notice the glowing vending machine nearby.

With the streets completely devoid of color...

... the vending machine's light seems to resonate much more vibrantly with your heart.

We approached the faded signpost in this twisted space.

<i>Welcome to La Manchaland.</i>

Two types of tickets and their prices are written underneath that logo.

Looks like we'll have to purchase a ticket here to enter...

Which one should we purchase?

We see a door to a giant containment chamber.

We're going to have to get through that to escape this maze.

There's an unfamiliar machine on the road to the chamber.

It must be a raffle machine La Manchaland used during event periods.

<i>A little bit of blood for something very useful!</i>

There's an advertisement written in elaborate typography.

Maybe we'll be able to find 'something very useful' in there?

"While the noble Knight and his Squire was on their most wonderful adventure..."

"The rest of their Family waited, chewing slowly on what subsistence they were availed."

"Though it is unclear whether all that waiting was worth it."

A sarcastic, disembodied narration echoes from somewhere.

Before the Sinners, the 'subsistence' that the Family was eating appeared.

A mass of brambles, its thorns sharp, stands in our way.

"The Knight and the Squire adventured together for a long, long time."

"They enjoyed so many adventures together."

"Which one of them was the most interesting?"

The narration, again.

What should we say?

They’re rummaging through corpses, looking for something.

Relentless demands for an offering ring in the ears.

They look like they might jump us at any second.

You see a dying person nearby, gasping for air.

Should you offer this person up?

Or…

You hear a faint voice.

“Please, help…”

Do you follow the sound? Or…

While traversing a narrow passage, a swarm of cockroaches crawled into the way.

The rustling visage is almost revolting.

Do you walk past them? Or…

In the middle of the factory, you find a vending machine with large buttons.

They’re colorful and fancy…

You feel a strong compulsion to press them.

Which one will you press?

Exiting the passage, you see a group of cyborgs gathered around a huge roulette.

“Oh. Highly. Excited. Thoroughly. Amusing.”

“Da GAME of DE—ATH!”

They approach you, chanting in strange beats.

It looks like they want you to play a game of roulette. What should you do?

A thick glass door stood strongly in the pink frame.

The electronic display above suddenly flashed to life, offering a question.

“Are you happy?”

What will be your answer?

"What plagues your mind, manager? Your suppression efforts seem to be smooth-sailing."

"Mm. It is exactly as you have seen, manager, save for a few parts that were censored. I concealed nothing from your view."

"I don't believe I have committed any wrong by escaping that place alone, leaving the others to be buried there."

"Ah, of course. It may be reprehensible from a moral standpoint. But why would anyone ever look at it from that perspective, manager?"

"Especially when you are well aware that, in the City, such a perspective is entirely irrelevant and worthless."

I can feel his gaze on me.

Like he said, the suppresion is going well. But this feels wrong—that it shouldn't end like this.

What should I tell him?

What is Hohenheim trying to hide from us?

"It seems that there is something else you would like to tell me."

"Very well, you may go ahead and ask. I am prepared to answer any of your questions."

I can feel Hohenheim's gaze lingering on me.

What should I say this time?

What is Hohenheim trying to hide from us?

"I feel as though I have given you quite a few replies... But there is simply so much curiosity in your ticking noises."

"Perhaps you have some aptitude to be a researcher as well, aside from that of a manager."

"Yet... not all questions can be answered. This will be the last answer I provide you."

I can feel his gaze on me.

Let's ask him the final question.

A heart torn into thousands of pieces must be kept from all eyes, thus it burrowed into the ground and tangled itself.

Yet, someone has to pull up these thorny roots,

as there is no wound that can remain unearthed.

The Sinners gave each other looks.

Being coiled in piercing, sharp pain was something to avoid even in one’s dreams.

The dry earth must be upturned.

Which Sinner was up to the task?

The ground began to tremor ever so slightly.

The Sinners remained quiet, but they could read from each other’s glances the single thought they shared:

“Shouldn’t one of us step up to endure the pain so that the rest will be spared from suffering?”

A small crack was found in the ground.

Who will be the one to seal it?

As if to demonstrate the unrewarding harshness of life, and in spite of enduring so much pain, not a single flower seemed to bloom from the corpse.

Instead, the Sinners discover fruits borne on it.

One audibly swallows to drain their salivations.

An urge to know the taste of a fruit made fertile with a Sinner starts to grow.

A Sinner eventually reached for the fruit.

Who among them took the bite?

The Sinners peered at its face.

They gazed upon the weathered memories within…

Down to the holes left by pests.

An apple does not culminate when it ripens to a glossy red.

When the apple browns, cracks, shrivels, and attracts lowly creatures…

That is when it has met its golden bliss.

The Sinners knew now was the time to bring the apple to the earth.

The apple is open for attack.

Who was the Sinner to bring down the apple in its moment of bliss?

There are many ways to calm one down,

but this Abnormality seems to like gifts the most.

A fresh batch of blood might be able to appease it.

It looks like one of the Sinners will have to do a clay doll’s job.

Who would appease the Abnormality?

To weaken the flame, you’ll need cool water.

Since we aren’t carrying any buckets of water, we should offer up someone cool instead.

It looks like one of the Sinners will have to do a clay doll’s job.

Whose heart would be the coldest among them?

The stars are twinkling.

When they shine, they’ll rob us all of our sight.

What gift would the stars like?

It looks like one of the Sinners will have to do a clay doll’s job.

Whose voice could lull the stars to sleep?

The apple’s body broke, and the raging fruit still grew.

Could the Golden Bough really be in there?

“I’ll go check it out!”

Yuri said to the others.

The Sinner with a bug’s arm seems nervous about this.

Does he want to go with her, perhaps?

You can’t just send Yuri out there alone.

What Sinner will be able to keep her safe?

How do those cyborgs keep coming back?

The Sinners were discussing.

“Perhaps those beings are not alive.

That way, they would not be able to die.”

“No, we’re not getting philosophical here.”

“Hmm~ To me, it looked like rebuilding a brick wall.”

“…I think I’m hearing something from that factory in the back.”

The group turned their gaze to the factory behind the cyborgs.

Metallic clanking could be heard from the place that was quiet until moments ago.

Maybe you should take a look at that shady facility?

Pinning down the largest cyborg as planned, you got to the factory in time.

“Huh, this is…”

“Looks like some kind of toy plant.”

The Sinners comment on the huge mechanism.

“Ah! Come behold this curiosity!”

The Sinner pointed to a control panel with several buttons attached to it.

<DO YOU LOVE THE CITY YOU LIVE IN?>

What should you press?

Continuing augmentation.

You

must

become

strong.

Please proceed with the input.

<DO YOU LOVE THE CITY YOU LIVE IN?>

What should you press?

Incorrect input.

You

must

become

strong.

Please input your answer again.

WARNING: Pressing the button three times will cause the facility to shut down.

<DO YOU LOVE THE CITY YOU LIVE IN?>

What should you press?

A voice travels between the fluttering ribbons.

“What is your desire?”

“Put me on.”

“I’ll carry you wherever you wish to go.”

The suggestions are incredibly suspicious, but for some reason, the Sinners are struggling to decide what to do.

What do you say?

The knot of desires must be undone.

Who can undo the knot?

After getting in position, it leaps for us.

It’s approaching faster than expected.

Who might halt the flurried beast?

The rampage continues.

It might reach a critical point faster than expected.

Who will stop the monster’s wrath?

Kromer feigns the appearance of being calm and collected.

But the nail in her hand gleams like a poniard, waiting to tear through the facade of calm.

Who will take Kromer’s pointed implement head-on?

Kromer is breathing heavily. Perhaps it’s a side effect of the transformation.

Her posture is unstable, and her eyes are looking elsewhere.

With her focus disrupted, we might be able to land a critical strike.

Who will be able to seize that opportunity?

Its abdomen has filled with red liquid.

It looks like it might expel it at any moment.

A bubbling splash of blood can be seen around its severed neck.

Who could jam its throat shut?

Purple flashes are jumping between the poles.

If they aren’t captured, something bad will happen.

Who will nab those pesky bolts?

The Shock Centipede's body is starting to coil up into one spot.

"It seems electricity is gathering."

As the Sinner pointed out, sparks are flying from the center of its coiled body.

It might be a good idea to stop it.

Who will be able to stop it?

Old umbrellas are lined up around the Drifting Fox.

Old, worn, holed umbrellas.

The umbrellas look like they've been standing there for Wings know how long trying to protect the fox, but it certainly doesn't seem like they're doing a good job at it.

"……."

Then, a Sinner slowly walked toward it.

The fox noticed the Sinner approaching, but it doesn't growl, nor does it happily relax.

It stays still, keeping its ever-constant place.

Who approached the fox?

The wooden doll stopped in place as if nothing was happening.

Its head was tilted slightly downward like it was examining its talismans...

Or perhaps it could have been looking at the Sinners' talismans.

"……."

As if possessed, the Sinners began to walk toward the wooden doll.

It was like they forgot they were fighting just moments ago.

And they started removing the talismans entangled on their bodies.

Just what could be going on?

Who will gather the talismans and return them?

The Fairy Gentleman spoke with a jolly laugh.

"Huhu... Didn't think this much would be gulped down."

A short hiccup could also be heard.

"I admit, it caught me off guard a tiny bit... Just a tiny bit."

The fairy then puts the cup in his hand to his mouth.

"Hey! Is that thing trying to sober up?"

"We must keep the blackguard disoriented!"

…It seems the fairy must be stopped from drinking from the cup.

Who will take the cup from the gentleman?

Dongrang no longer feels pity for test subjects.

Even if his technology isn't recognized...

Even when he thinks of the yellow calf in his hometown...

He isn't sad anymore.

"The past is all useless. I'll burn it all."

"And Yi Sang, I'd like you gone as well."

Dongrang begins to rush at Yi Sang.

Will you stop Dongrang?

"I've... decided to erase all of the past."

"In other words, I will have no business left with you once Yi Sang is gone."

Dongrang frowned, seeming quite displeased.

"And yet... Why do you keep interrupting?"

Dongrang seems to be preparing for a powerful attack. Maybe this gap could be exploited.

Will you stop Dongrang again?

"I really shouldn't be wasting my time like this."

Coming to a sudden realization, Dongrang stopped in place.

And he looked at the ceiling as though he was looking up at stars in the sky.

"At this very moment... I'm losing out for each second it spends without crying."

"The opportunities and time to change the world... are scattering."

Dongrang then glared with bloodshot eyes.

"Yi Sang... It's you, you're the only one who needs to go for this to be over!"

"……."

Yi Sang walked ahead.

"I must insist... that I mark the end for Dongrang."

"...For that would be most ideal."

……

The giant plant that the fairy made grow was as thick as it was tall.

It did have its perks.

Like hiding behind a building's column, one Sinner managed to escape the fairy's view.

The Sinner then carefully struck at the stem.

Who struck at the stem?

The records, inscribed with that burning quill, are endless.

Yet the prophet must write.

Because the future is also endless.

Who will read the records?

Looking closely at it... it appears to be a gem of sorts.

Born after a long, long time of waiting...

Born in the ebb and flow of the filth that fills and leaves that thing with its every movement.

Taking its gem would be equivalent to taking its reason for existence away. It may fall apart without it.

Who will take its meaning away?

Where did that flotsam float from?

From where, and how did it end up here?

After so many years, even that flotsam may no longer recall from whence it came.

... As long as it can be used to stop that Abnormality's attack.

Who will approach the flotsam?

"I failed."

"<...!>"

Is that an illusion? Or... is that also Ishmael?

Behind the Captain appears a silhouette of Ishmael, encased in that pale membrane.

"I couldn't solve anything. I failed everything."

"All I managed to do was survive. Pathetically, like a wretch. Hanging on to my dear friend's coffin."

The Captain guffaws madly. "Indeed, Ishmael! You couldn't save anyone! Not your crew! Not your friend! Nobody!"

"And you will give up again. Because you are afraid! You will give up even before you start!"

The Sinners start to get agitated.

"That bloody bastard...!"

"Don't listen to her, Ishmael! S-she doesn't know what she's talking about!

"<......>"

The Manager holds their silence.

Then utters.

Sure, you could say that.

But... her own answers matter the most here, no?

"......"

Her breathing is quick and shaking. She deliberates.

What answer awaits you at the end of this deliberation?

Can she endure her own past?

"<Ishmael.>"

"<It's not over yet.>"

"<It's too early to decide. There's still time.>"

"<And when the time comes... no one will make that decision in your stead.>"

"<Not me. Not Ahab.>"

"<I know that you can reach your own answers. Find your own way.>"

"……."

Ishmael does not reply. Instead, she tightens the grip on her weapon arm.

A delayed answer...

... is not a bad idea.

Heathcliff from another world glares at Heathcliff.

Every strand of vein in his bloodshot eyes are pulsating with burning hatred.

"Your puerile adventure... ends here."

"Cast yourself off the cliffside of suffering. Let the sorrow agonise you until your body strikes the earth cold."

"That is the smallest atonement you could pay to Cathy, as her murderer."

"Bastard, even now...?!"

Heathcliff bolts forward, unable to stop himself.

Heathcliff's assault...

Heathcliff the Heartbroken is shaking and stumbling.

What is that fluid dribbling from his mouth? Is it blood... or tears of sorrow?

... This might be our chance to convey something to Heathcliff.

Who should I go with?

Once again, Heathcliff the Heartbroken falls to the ground.

He is hyperventilating and shaking his head wildly. It is a difficult sight to bear.

The fluid pooled and pooled on the ground until it became a small puddle.

I must now carry Heathcliff's sorrow. Who will accompany me?

A woman stands before us. Her body and mind are spent, weighed down, and sinking into the oblivion of time.

Who will talk to Nelly?

"Can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?!"

I suddenly realize that an unfamiliar voice is echoing directly in my head.

"<Is this... is this sound coming directly through the Golden Bough...?>"

"... You hear that too, Clockhead?"

I turn around to look at Heathcliff. He appears exhausted from the prolonged battle, both in body and spirit.

The Golden Bough that once pierced his chest was long removed after my clock turned...

... but its influence seemed to be lingering for some reason.

"Catherine...?"

Heathcliff whispers.

"What is... happening...?"

A frail, desperate voice echoes. The voice shudders so terribly.

"This is not at all what I wished for, no..."

I carefully ask the voice a question.

"<So all of this is...>"

"I never wanted Heathcliff who exists for Catherine and only Catherine..."

... I don't think she can hear our voices.

"All I wanted... was for every Heathcliff to be happy..."

"All I wanted... was to kill every existence of myself..."

"Please, someone... help me."

"Can anyone hear me?!"

Shout. Shout that we can hear her.

My head fills with the voice once again.

"I never should have summoned that Catherine here..."

"I thought... I thought Heathcliff would never have to suffer again if every Catherine were to no longer exist..."

"... But I should have known that Heathcliff would have thought the very same...!"

I can feel her heartrending sorrow.

"... Ah... I never should have fled. I should have talked to her instead of running away."

Heathcliff was right. Every unspoken word, every unshared discussion only broke their hearts further apart from each other... until their words began to run parallel, never to converge.

"If only I could go back..."

"Is there truly no way out of this trap that woman set for us...?"

"Cathy, I...!"

Just as Heathcliff began to speak, a shrill cry tears through our heads.

"Catherine!!! Do not obstruct me now!!!"

"We promised, didn't we? We promised to kill all of us so that Heathcliff may find happiness!!!"

That cutting voice is tinged with an odd warmth, like a different voice.

"No, I..."

Maybe the two Catherines are vying for control.

One of her collosal hands are twitching and stumbling.

... Maybe this is our chance to neutralize that hand.

Who will step forth?

Dammit, this is...

... Cathy's coffin.

It's so cold... and dark inside.

... You remained trapped here all along...

Just for... my happiness...

You, who hated the dark so, so much...

Burst forth from the coffin.

We returned to the Training Team hallways again.

According to the Work Education manual, we're going to need the Physical Intervention Shield to survive the Noon of Violet's shockwave.

We stood huddled together at the hallway, remembering what Hod, the Sephirah of the Training Team told us. It wasn't long before the same bullets from earlier struck us.

Red barriers began to form around the Sinners who were struck by the bullets.

'Let's see... According to the schedule, we have some time until the next Noon arrives.'

One of the Sinners noticed an Emergency Response manual posted on the hallway walls.

On it were instructions on how to use a console installed in the hallways to activate the Regenerator systems connected to the Safety Team.

'This seems like it'd be worth a try.'

If we hurry, we might be able to activate the Regenerator before the Noon arrives.

Who will activate the Regenerator?

Looks like we can restore one of the deactivated systems of the Safety Team, apart from the basic functionalities of the Regenerator.

Which one should we reactivate?

The lasso is aiming straight for us...

The lasso, powered on by the hunter's movements, flies right at us.

Who will step forth?

A bear plush looks at us with a sad expression. Several sharp nails are impaling its body.

What will you do?

The toad had taken a deep breath, inflating its belly.

A blue teardrop or two welled in its huge, round eyes.

This cavern will be filled with an air of gloom once its mouth opens.

It would be best to knock the wind out of it.

Who will stop its cry from coming forth?

The mechanical puppet stretched its wires onto the ground.

Those wires then dug underneath like roots.

Is it trying to get electricity from the floor?

The robot’s terminal printed out:

<Please Cooperate!>

“…Hold on, doesn’t that mean it can’t do anything while it’s charging?”

The Sinners seem rather unwilling to listen to its request.

Who can sabotage its attempts to charge up?

It feels as though you find peace in merely looking at it.

The statue seems to be embracing the agony and anguish of all.

There is no self within—only everyone.

It can only make sense that one would lose the will to fight.

However, no man can wholly shoulder another’s suffering in their stead.

Before we all are allured by its false compassion, someone has to break the statue.

Who will be able to break this deceitful statue?

Old umbrellas are lined up around the Drifting Fox.

Old, worn, holed umbrellas.

The umbrellas look like they've been standing there for Wings know how long trying to protect the fox, but it certainly doesn't seem like they're doing a good job at it.

"……."

Then, a Sinner slowly walked toward it.

The fox noticed the Sinner approaching, but it doesn't growl, nor does it happily relax.

It stays still, keeping its ever-constant place.

Who approached the fox?

The Shock Centipede's body is starting to coil up into one spot.

"It seems electricity is gathering."

As the Sinner pointed out, sparks are flying from the center of its coiled body.

It might be a good idea to stop it.

Who will be able to stop it?

The Fairy Gentleman spoke with a jolly laugh.

"Huhu... Didn't think this much would be gulped down."

A short hiccup could also be heard.

"I admit, it caught me off guard a tiny bit... Just a tiny bit."

The fairy then puts the cup in his hand to his mouth.

"Hey! Is that thing trying to sober up?"

"We must keep the blackguard disoriented!"

…It seems the fairy must be stopped from drinking from the cup.

Who will take the cup from the gentleman?

The wooden doll stopped in place as if nothing was happening.

Its head was tilted slightly downward like it was examining its talismans...

Or perhaps it could have been looking at the Sinners' talismans.

"……."

As if possessed, the Sinners began to walk toward the wooden doll.

It was like they forgot they were fighting just moments ago.

And they started removing the talismans entangled on their bodies.

Just what could be going on?

Who will gather the talismans and return them?

The giant plant that the fairy made grow was as thick as it was tall.

It did have its perks.

Like hiding behind a building's column, one Sinner managed to escape the fairy's view.

The Sinner then carefully struck at the stem.

Who struck at the stem?

Attacking that fairy again will reveal its true form.

This isn’t your first time facing this entity. It won’t be as hard as the first time.

The Sinners seem to agree.

The fairy simply sat there in near complete stillness only interrupted by its intermittently vibrating wings. It was as though the fairy knew you were coming.

Who will answer the bait?

If this fight’s been anything to go by, it’ll soon emerge from one of the dimensional rifts.

If we can intuit its next point of emergence, maybe we can deal a fatal blow against it before it fully emerges from the dimensional rift.

Who can intuit its next point of emergence?

Vacuum tubes in the center of the Steam Transport Machine’s torso are glowing.

Slowly, or rapidly, the numbers displayed in the vacuum tubes decreased…

And its broken, rusted chassis began to reconstruct itself.

Did the Steam Transport Machine return to when it was first produced?

Leaving behind everything it’s gone through.

The older the machine gets, the more of itself it will have to reconstruct.

Maybe the Steam Transport Machine can be stopped… if someone could reach into its vacuum tubes?

Who will reach into the vacuum tubes?

"What do you wish for?"

The Sign asks the sinners.

"A rose can bloom only when you clearly wish for something."

"The heavier your sins, the deeper the color of petals will be.

"See? Wish, wish for it. Knowing that it is a sin. Only then can you bloom such colorful roses."

"You have to bloom the roses. You want to escape this garden, don't you?"

"Let us... let me help you."

"Our only wish is that our garden will bloom full of flowers."

"Now, what will you do?"

A dark shadow lingers at the center of the flaming moth.

Its form was vague and mercurial, yet... somehow, you can tell that the shadow is the very core of the moth.

If that shadow could be separated from the flames, perhaps its heat may momentarily subside.

Who will reach out for the shadow?

As the fight prolonged, more and more vines from the Gossypium begin puncturing the Sinners.

The vines continue to drain blood from them, and the red patch on the white cotton part of the Gossypium grows.

How can these vines be detached from the Sinners?

Who will step forth?

You feel its inquisitive, intense gaze.

The intense gaze had transformed into a gaze of different sensations.

'I am a butler of this manor.'

'Yet I do not recognize your faces.'

'I cannot help but be wary; perhaps you seek to mire this manor again in sorrow.'

'If you claim otherwise, then allow me to inquire. Which of these portraits is that of my master?'

Who will answer?

At the end of each cable strewn about the floor is a plug.

Perhaps the sheep knows what it implies.

It lets out a sorrowful cry.

As the Sinners converge on the sheep, the greater, more desperate its screams grow.

The sheep begins to thrash wildly.

Its resistance will only intensify.

Who will try to hold the sheep down?

An empty banquet hall, wreathed in ambient crimson light.

The solitary king, bound to his throne, raises his arm in an unhurried motion.

Your feet grow drenched in the cold mist of a vague tune.

The lone king gently points to a platform near you with an inviting cadence.

On it are masks, each depicting different spectrum of emotions.

There is a mask of joy. A mask of sorrow. A mask of wrath.

What face shall be worn in this audience with the king?

Passion grows hotter as the banquet slowly reaches a crescendo.

The King in Binds motions for the battle to pause.

This gives us enough time to leave our broken masks and don new ones for ourselves.

What new face shall we wear in audience of the king?

Donning the mask once again summons the ardent emotions that slowly simmer into your heart.

The sorrow rises through the fog of heated battle; its dense weight pierces deep, deep into your emotions.

Can this sorrow be resisted?

'Stop.'

'I don't even remember anymore. I can't even recall if they were even real to begin with.'

'But you... you still remember your loved ones.'

'I'll blast your skulls apart. Every single one of you.'

There's an old pendant hanging from the shooter's neck.

Perhaps it could be the key to resolving this battle.

Who will bring up the pendant?

The great skull rears its head with a loud creaking noise; an eerie cackle echoes.

Underneath the calmed air vibrates an explosive energy; the skull is preparing to launch a powerful attack.

Yet it must have overstrained itself;

the body cracks and wavers, giving us an opening.

It might be better to attack the opening on its body instead of waiting for it to attack us.

What should we do?

The rose guzzles up the flood of blood, glistening in crimson.

But even this inundation of blood wasn't enough.

Its glossy eyes glowers at the Sinner from between the petals.

In an empty space,

you find a lone vending machine.

Where does it get its power…?

Besides that, what’s with this sound of crashing waves?

Regardless, this vacant lot looks to be a good place

for your Sinners to take a break.

Standing in front of the vending machine, you see rows of buttons.

In an empty space,

you find a lone vending machine.

Where does it get its power…?

Besides that, what’s with this sound of crashing waves?

Regardless, this vacant lot looks to be a good place

for your Sinners to take a break.

Standing in front of the vending machine, you see rows of buttons.

In an empty space,

you find a lone vending machine.

Where does it get its power…?

Besides that, what’s with this sound of crashing waves?

Regardless, this vacant lot looks to be a good place

for your Sinners to take a break.

Standing in front of the vending machine, you see rows of buttons.

Up ahead, you see some sort of ray of light.

Looking closely, there are numerous tall mirrors.

They all face each other.

While examining them,

you feel the need to stand before the mirrors.

The room, wall-to-wall with reflections, is quiet and chilly.

The machine seemed to be well-maintained.

Not a single speck of dirt rested on its surface.

[Please select an ampule and go atop the table.]

Those were the instructions on the display next to it.

Behind that display, you see ampules containing

liquids of various colors, like red, green, and white.

You carefully get on the cold operating table.

Orange circles float in the air before your eyes.

The lights flutter and dance in the air, creating a haze.

Something is burning to death within.

Would you be scorched as well if the flames touched you?

Blood pours from above; the land of gold lies beyond.

The spiral ahead loudly screeches.

It must have reached this depth after burrowing and burrowing.

Although it has no eyes, it creaks to face you.

A cry rings out in the ashen wilderness.

From the distance, an undulating wall of fog rises.

Its shape resembles a human.

Yet, it could be a spirit or a ghost taken form.

Its mouth, agape as if crying in despair, is completely dark.

It gives blood to those who need it.

The only blood it has to give is its own.

Even those who don’t need a transfusion

are bled dry with scissors, forced to accept.

Thus, its road is filled with receivers that need blood.

A wail fills the forest.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s so sorrowful for.

There’s a coffin in the middle of the woods.

It has been tied with multiple cords and ropes,

in what appears to be a desperate attempt to keep its contents from escaping.

However, the coffin continues to rumble and creak.

“Who are you, and what brings you here?”

A piece of paper rustles.

“Well, you came just at the right time for me;

I’ve urgent business that needs doing.

Won’t you take the job?”

It held out another piece of paper with lousy letters written on it.

Unfortunately, you can’t make sense of these lines and dots.

“How’s about it? You up for it?”

“Look at those butterflies! Aren’t they just beautiful?”

“And gander at that sunset, too!

Really makes you want to go for a stroll.”

“Why don’t you stop for a moment

and take a breather here?”

Something yellow gestures warmly at you.

A teddy bear suffers from having nails lodged into its body.

The bloodstains decorating it

are a telling sign of all the time it spent in pain.

The holes where its eyes should be are empty.

Nothing but dry red marks remain inside.

In spite of that, it stands with its arms wide,

endeavoring to fulfill its duty of giving hugs.

Candles quietly burn away.

Scribbling sounds are all that fill the air.

A trio of eyes takes turns glaring

into a grand tome, bound in skin.

You can’t tell what it’s referencing,

or if there is any deliberation in its writing;

hands are busy nonetheless.

Yearning for destruction and doom,

it writes and writes and writes.

You feel the passages it’s writing may be prophecies for someplace and sometime.

A bell occasionally tolls in the red room.

It’s a heavy, subduing sound.

The statue is chanting something.

You’re unable to recognize its words.

But, you feel that whatever it is,

is not a joyous thing.

There’s a brass ring on the statue’s finger.

An alleyway garbage dump.

Its atmosphere is stuffy and unpleasant thanks to the humidity from the rain.

A pile of old and torn umbrellas sits in a corner.

The umbrellas jiggled.

Looking closer, there’s a large fox underneath.

The umbrellas’ rusted iron blades have firmly rooted themselves in its back.

A thing wearing human skin was dancing in place, clicking and creaking.

It soon spots me.

Clopping like a spider, it talks to me.

"I made this face yesterday."

Fwip-pip. Tap-trrt.

"What face do you think I'll make tomorrow?"

Fwip. Trrt-tap.

"What face should we make?"

You hear the quiet flickering of candles.

In this cramped room, you find a wooden doll, standing.

Are the talismans filling the room for a wish?

Does this wooden doll wish for anything?

A pained moan echoes across the heat.

It’s hard to tell if it comes from a beast or a human.

A sizzle spreads into the air

along with the smell of burning flesh.

“Please! I need water!

Won’t someone give me water to drink?”

The air is thick with steam.

It's not simply gaseous water; the steam's color is brown.

Beyond the veil of steam, you hear a voice.

"Mhm! It's only right to drink straight from the bottle!"

"The ones from the west are good-tasting these days."

"You there! You like booze?"

The cavern is full of smells, good and bad.

“Been a while since I had visitors! I oughta give you a right treat.”

“Plum outta luck for eatery, I’ve already had all the food.”

“Straight as you can see, this glass o’ fairy wine is all I have.”

“Would ya care for a drink?”

A thick, slimy hand makes its offer.

It records right and wrong.

Its job is to record the judgement of the one above.

It does not assess what it writes.

To lay down judgement is not a secretary’s role.

The scribe silently presented an emerald tablet.

What does this signboard say?

It hangs itself on a tree, trying to make its content known.

Its desperation is almost pitiable.

The barren mudflat reeks of salt and rot.

What little jade-colored seawater is left there

doesn’t seem to have anything inside.

A giant clam walks before you.

With each step it takes, it sprays a fetid green muck.

Is the clam the source of the contamination,

or is it working to contain the filth?

A field of white, yet somehow dark flowers is ahead.

The sky is red, the air windy and bleak.

One giant flower flutters amidst the field.

It resembles a person waving from afar.

You see a poor passenger, stranded between dimensions.

Most will never realize that this person ever disappeared.

Well, the transport company would know,

but they’ll simply pretend that the passenger never existed.

Lost and abandoned, tossed out like trash,

having no place left in the City.

Sometimes, the mind wanders.

Where does such a mind end up?

If it had a physical destination,

then it must look like this.

An empty, humanlike statue

is where that mind would decide to settle.

Now, it extends its arms, trying to grab at anything.

A resentful tree stands among a desolate plain.

The place has an air of umbrage.

Something feels discordant about the sky.

You note one twig growing out of the tree like an arm.

Though the tree is unmoving, it seems to want something.

“Croohoo, croohoo, croohoo.”

A giant toad cries inside a cave.

Patches of dark blue resin cover the cave.

This resin is like gloom.

A sap of gloom, not quite like tears or sadness.

The toad holds this resin.

A person stands in the square.

They look this way, waving an arm.

The cavity in their head may be an eye,

or a bullet hole.

If it is, it must have been the work

of the revolver in their hand.

That person points the gun at you.

A cluster of eyes looks this way.

The thing in the middle has the appearance of a tree branch, but it is human.

Heaven sometimes burrows;

other times, it makes a home in the heart.

Once taken root, that heaven

will only be visible through the eyes of others.

Oh, how blue this is.

The pure hue of blue

allows nothing to approach.

When you try to go near, your body is pushed away.

And yet, it is so, so blue.

You wish to have that color.

The irresistible allure

is almost tearing you apart.

It’s a spider’s nest made of thorny vines

and filled with flowers, perhaps once used for celebration.

The buds appear to be filled with someone’s blood.

The bride and groom crawl between them.

As they scuttle around,

blood seeps out of their hands and feet.

It appears that they change sides

before the bottom one loses too much blood.

This is a dark cavern.

Sounds of hard objects hitting each other loudly echo at random intervals.

The noise is coming from three large skulls. They approach us, clacking and rattling.

They have no bodies. So they roll. They make noises endlessly even as they roll.

Looking at the three skulls that rolled at our feet, we find they have different expressions.

Should we choose one of them?

It carries heavy objects without a word.

As it does its work,

the number on the electronic display seems to update.

Machines exist for a purpose.

You feel like you should give it an order.

It’s a dark cityscape,

but the buildings are well-lit.

It appears that they are powered

by the massive buzzing cloud at the center.

The cloud has a head and two pairs of legs.

It resembles a sheep.

The “electric sheep” seems to be in pain.

Is it being siphoned of its power?

“This centipede is capable of discharging a high voltage.”

That’s what the sign attached to the tank says.

Is this an aquarium, or a laboratory?

The segments of the creature spark each time they move,

suggesting faulty connections.

There are two buttons at the tank.

One is shaped like a thunderbolt, while the other looks like a waterdrop.

This dark place might be a factory.

A sharp mechanical noise zips through the air.

Illuminating eyes are fixed on you.

A robot slowly approaches.

It appears to be incomplete, as suggested by the bare wires protruding with each movement.

Is that leakage antifreeze, or blood?

While you were wondering, the terminal on its chest flashed to life.

Looks like you can write something.

“This here’s ma turf.”

“Here folks play by ma rules, or else!”

Sounds like there can be dire consequences.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors!”

“I’ll go fer scissors. How ‘bout you?”

This flower was once a rose that could have been tiny and beautiful.

But now, the blood it holds gives off a cruel smell.

Drinking and growing giant, it sucked in blood that overflowed from a spring.

Without an end.

It greedily gobbles up the stream of blood with its branched roots.

Something that creaks, squeaks, and shakes is stood before us.

Inside it is a pink liquid.

It heaves whenever the liquid container shakes.

Or it might be the liquid's movement that causes the massive glass body to move.

The liquid seems to consist of multiple things and beings.

Each droplet has its own face.

One sad-looking droplet is pushed away by its mean-faced peers.

The glass giant trembles, and a pink droplet is ejected.

The droplet is crying.

"I wipe everything."

"Cleaning is enjoyable."

"I like to be the same as others."

"……."

"I am frankly troubled."

"The model next to mine boasted that it has multiple parts that others don't."

"Is that what makes one special?"

"Am I special the way I am?"

The room's ceiling was too high. Yet it was so narrow that it felt like a tight space.

Something that looks like an old person sits on a chair, staring into a painting on the wall. It didn't so much as flinch.

A dark, thick, and sticky smoke crawls out from behind it.

Perhaps that's what loneliness might look like if it's visualized.

"What's a young one like you doing in this room."

It spoke to us, its eyes still glued to the painting. How long has it been aware?

"Are you interested in hearing my stories?"

Stars glow blue in the dark.

Looking at them up close, those weren't actually stars.

It was a person waving their arms with blue marbles in their hands.

"These are stars."

The person claims what they're holding are stars.

As if they read my mind and knew what I was thinking.

The centipede-like thing donned a rotten sheet of cloth.

The cloth reeks of rotting bodies, like it was used to dress a corpse.

There are strange booklets hanging all over its body.

Looking closely, those are prayer books.

What does it believe in, and what does it pray for?

That must be snakes, bugs, or the symbolization of fulfilled peace.

Looking closely, the fence of wire and the countless corpses caught up in it can be seen moving.

Those sacks of flesh entangled in painful ways must be the remains of those who perished in a war fought in the past.

Now, it moves like a living thing, wandering where the Smoke War may have taken place.

The concertina wire was a line crossed between you and me, and a separator.

However, this rusted, bloodstained wire now binds us together and squeezes us so our flesh and eyes meet.

Tang- Tang- Tang-

The sound of plastic crashing is accompanied by the sloshing of a liquid.

It looks like something that used to be an employee of a company.

Its identity is evidenced by the now-worn formal outfit and the employee card.

The card is almost too battered and contaminated to recognize.

Wearing a box filled with Enkephalin on their head, the employee rams it into what looks like the door to a containment unit.

A rubber O-ring is worn around their neck. Could it be there to prevent Enkephalin from spilling?

This is a dark forest, full of fog and vine.

An apple, rotten but still moving, runs to me in a hurry.

"Please help me, I need to hide."

"I'm just a poor, tiny apple... Cursed and thrown away."

Before I could answer, the apple hid its small body behind my leg.

"......."

Amidst the fog of the viney forest, the clop of a horse is heard.

It's a giant horse made of vines.

Mounted on it was a being with the head of a rose.

The vine horse stands before me and lets out heavy breaths that reek of green grass.

"I am on the hunt for someone. It needs to be taken care of urgently."

"What I am looking for is an apple that will become a princess, not knowing its rightful place."

"It must have passed this way. Do you know what direction it has taken?"

A giant lizard-like thing with the cold skin of a machine stands before us.

Its long tail, shaped like the human hand, bends in all directions before straightening to point at me.

"The heavenly commander is who I serve."

"It is the duty of the commander's servant to follow commands."

"Tell me what you command."

Clackle-

Clackle-

A mountain made out of holed rocks. It's shrouded with white fog.

Rocks can be heard clashing with each other.

There's a being with long limbs and stone-like skin piling up a tower.

Could it be a stone tower being made for a wish?

Or is it a cairn that is burying someone alive?

Whirr-clink. Whirr-clink.

Sounds of sticky, oily clockwork echoes.

It is the sound of each cog indents clicking into each other. It is the sound of flowing streams of water conjoining.

A tired, downcast duck stands before you.

The clockwork whirrs vigorously, but the rabbit appears weary.

... No, perhaps this is a duck.

The Rabbit asks.

'What am I, in your eyes?'

Damp and slippery, this is the emerald forest.

A green rain was pouring down, seeming quite sticky.

You see someone next to you holding a large piece of grass like an umbrella.

'Oh dear, I'd advise against being hit by this rain.'

'Come on, get under this umbrella, all of you.'

'If you stand in the rain, you might melt down head first.'

It's an empty room of cement.

Yet I can shake off the creeping feeling that something might be here.

Other Sinners scoff at me in disagreement.

There's a switch in the room.

'What do you think?'

The shard, suspended in air, asks.

'Those things revolving along the track.'

'They're bound by an unseen force, aren't they?'

The shard is surrounded by two different types of tracks. Some rotate wildly, while some do so gently.

'But I'm not binding them here because I want to.'

'They're stuck to me, you see.'

'What do you think?'

In the middle of a quiet and peaceful forest, a delicate tree branch is placed.

A small fairy with a green glow sits atop it.

Saying no words, the fairy waves at us, inviting us to come over and take a break.

It looked like it was smiling, and it might have been dancing.

This place is like a giant scrapyard.

All kinds of refuse find their way here, only to be burned.

The difference is that this scrapyard collects nothing but bones.

Human bones beast bones and the bones of something that is neither human nor beast

All kinds of bones find their way here.

A faint voice can be heard from the pile, but it is too feeble to be understood.

An alleyway of black and white.

The single streetlamp lighting the path makes the scenery all the more hazy.

Someone is standing in the light.

Pipipipip-

The device in the Abnormality's hand sounds an alarm.

'The results of the job interview for the big company I had last month are out today.'

'Everyone in this street prepares for exams and interviews.'

'They wait for the results to be announced, staking all they have on them, and once they're told they failed, they go far away and disappear.'

'So I changed my head; I'd like to fly away even if I don't make it.'

'Will you check the results for me?'

The device displayed a message that it didn't pass.

'What does it say? Did I pass?'

'This is a warzone.'

'And my gun must blow someone up.'

The Abnormality spoke with clarity, loading its shotgun loudly.

'In this gory war, the devil approached me one day to suggest a deal.'

'It promised to give me a gun that can blow up anything, but the catch was that its last shell would land on the head of my beloved.'

'I accepted the gun and the ammunition with laughter.'

'My beloved, huh….'

'Did I ever have people I held that dearly? I couldn't be sure anymore.'

'I had to have joined this war for someone I loved, that much I remember.'

I noticed an old pendant worn on the shooter's neck.

'Thanks to that, I'm free to point the barrel at anyone I want. No matter where I fire it, this shotgun can blast anyone into fireworks like it hit them point blank, how wonderful is that?'

'I bet that fellow had their beloved.'

'Yup, I'm talking about the one whose head I just blew up.'

'They might have remembered what I don't. That makes this just too exhilarating.'

'Killing people who remember their loved ones, I mean.'

The shooter keeps firing its gun as it speaks.

The shotgun shoots out pellets as easily and lightly as the shooter laughs.

'By the way, whose side are you on?'

Shhhh-chk.

Shhhh-chk.

There is a skeleton, making ominous, labored noises.

There is a shadow of somebody in its spine.

Does the shadow breathe, one must ponder.

I see a room filled with papers.

It was probably once spacious, but now, it's cramped thanks to the stacks of papers with scrawls occupying much of it.

Something swims this way in this sea of papers and documents.

The serpent made of papers slithered up to talk to me.

'This is hell.'

'The hell for homework and assignments all the people in the world have neglected to do.'

'People may think an assignment that they didn't get to finish is no big deal... How little do they know.'

'The assignments wanted to be completed and submitted on time!'

'This is where the overdue and forgotten assignments end up.'

'They're then plummeted into a hell where they suffer for eternity, forever left procrastinated.'

'How cruel students are! You may have seen us as little tasks you could put off, but we wished nothing more than to be handed over!'

'Let me ask you this... Have you ever been behind with an assignment? It doesn't matter if it was by unavoidable circumstances, tell me if you have abandoned any poor assignments!'

There is an entity bound to an extravagantly ornamented chair.

It appears as though the entity is shooting a stern glare this way.

It tries to say something... but its mouth is bound.

The King on the throne twists and thrashes, trying to approach... but the things that bind drags him away.

The beautiful yet cruel crimson strips of fabric. They pull mercilessly. They are...

Sounds of heavy rocks scraping against each other.

What looked like palms are made of black rocks.

At the tip of the fingers attached to the palms are smaller palms and smaller fingers.

It reaches out with the hand of the hand.

The voice speaks.

'Yes. The deep sea is a dark place.'

'But at the end of that dark path is a light.'

'Because there are things that shine in the dark there.'

'Let's go there.'

'And we'll shine brighter than anything in that dark place.'

'We were all abandoned, yes. But we all had dreams, too. Remember?'

'Well, let's make our dreams come true. Let's sink together into the depths.'

The dim fluorescent lights impaling the entity's back flicker.

This is a corridor of a large, wooden mansion. Its floorboards are ancient.

You can hear creaking noises approaching from a distance. Something walks in this direction.

'My master had a very unfortunate life.'

'I am the butler of this house.'

'Sad, sad things happened here. Many sad things.'

'I still carry with me my master's portrait because no one remembers them anymore.'

'How is it? Can you see it well?'

This is a hospital.

It's dark and bleak, like the hallway of the hospital always has been.

From the end of the hallway where the lights flicker, something giant approaches.

It slides down at a constant pace, making the sound of rusted wheels.

A person is tightly tied to the dusty hospital bed; could they have been a patient in the past?

When they reached the thought that there was no point in trying to fathom how long they had been lying in it,

It began to move at last, one with the bed.

Having earned the freedom to freely run after too long,

It fiercely charges at us, dragging its wheels along.

This place resembles the operating room of an abandoned hospital.

A few clangs and rumbles later, a blinding white light flashed the eye.

The light is soon blocked by a being with multiple heads.

Those heads were all wearing masks and surgical caps, facing me at the same time.

'Ah, a patient's here.'

'Right, a patient's here.'

'The patient needs curing.'

'Where?'

'The abdomen?'

'The legs?'

'No, the head. The frontal lobe.'

Each head gives its opinion as they prepare for surgery.

The long-necked thing has a hammer on its head.

It resembles a toy somewhat, but this one is undoubtedly an Abnormality.

The way it stood, it looked like it could fall from its precarious stature at any moment,

And as suspected, its head slammed the floor, unable to withstand the weight of the steel.

The flask on its back may have to be filled for this hammer to be lifted back up.

Could these five appendages protruding from the urn be a palm?

Or is it a naked person who put their head into the golden urn?

What did this person see in the urn to cause them to shove their face into it?

As if that wasn't enough, the whole body turned into a hand that tries to grasp everything it can.

If it finally takes hold of everything in the world, will its grip loosen at last?

There's a long, wide road ahead.

You see someone with a sign at the entrance.

'This is a one-way road. No U-turns.'

'If you take this road, it'll take ages to come back here.'

As the person claims, the road seems to be stretched almost endlessly into the distance.

There is a massive, winged, marble statue.

Its arms and the head are not made of stone, however.

Instead, a translucent and solid light shimmers there.

The shimmering, mirage-like head is blowing a trumpet. One of its arms wields a blade.

What could this statue be commemorating?

Someone is breathing heavily and angrily.

A large, towering figure is trembling and shaking. Its breathing is labored.

It is unclear whether it was from wrath or sadness.

'You! Who's there?!'

The figure talks to you.

'Look at this. What the hell does it say here?'

The figure, shoving a piece of paper before you, appears to be blind.

The paper says that the secret about... something... must be kept.

It is a record of a certain patient.

'Tell me. What does the paper say?'

The bell tolls.

It creaks a few times...

And tolls again.

The bell tolls to tell the time. It swings all the way back, as though it's about to tip over... then balances itself again.

Every time it balances itself, the sound of a broken bell tolls.

The bell precariously swings back once again.

A lone signpost stands atop a snowy mountain.

A closer inspection revealed that it was, in fact, not a signpost.

Yet it functions as a signpost.

Stiff corpses point to various directions with their frozen arms.

What awaits at the end of the paths these fingers point to?

Welcome. This is the city of peace, Metropolaris.

No one can be hurt here at Metropolaris.

The entity called it a city... but there's nothing here.

The only recognizable being here is the entity that greets you without even looking in your direction.

The blocks are turning, interlocking and noisily grinding against one another.

The entity changes shape with every offering from surrounding clay dolls.

Sometimes its blocks rotate, and sometimes chunks of its red flesh shrink and stretch.

Something falls to the ground from its endlessly distorting form.

One of its blocks fell out of place, pushed out amidst the constant change.

Even the clay dolls stop making their offerings, confused. They stare at the block.

A thunderous howl booms from where lightning strikes.

There lies a hound with numerous heads; multiple telepoles are protruding from its back.

I can see violet flashovers sparking from all of them, though they were all of differing sizes.

The hound hasn't noticed our approach just yet.

Maybe we can take one of them if we sever its wire.

This place is brimming with the high-pitched screech of metals and industrial machine hammers slamming into something.

Following the clamor led us to what looks like a plastic toy model of a factory.

This smoke-fuming factory of mysterious products churns on and on.

A large octagonal screw tumbles out of the factory.

A forsaken tavern.

Warm, hearty aroma of stew wafts from the empty kitchen.

Following the trail of that delicious scent leads us to a coiling lizard with a head not unlike a cauldron.

Within its head is a hotly roaring fire and a modest cauldron dangling from above it.

Ancient stew boils vigorously from within the cauldron. It's been boiling for so long that it's become impossible to tell what the original ingredients may have been.

As I stood there wondering what must be done with this stew, a voice echoes from underneath the cauldron.

There lies a sentient hearthflame, speaking to us.

'There isn't anyone left here to enjoy the stew.'

'Would ya mind removing the cauldron?'

There is an indent on the earth, filled with water.

Something that lies within is constantly making ripples on its surface.

A closer approach revealed a headless fish swimming in that shallow puddle.

Its splashing movements are spirited, despite the glaring lack of a head.

Is it twisting its body from pain?

Or is it merely glad to be swimming in water?

A cry rings out in the ashen wilderness.

From the distance, an undulating wall of fog rises.

Its shape resembles a human.

Yet, it could be a spirit or a ghost taken form.

Its mouth, agape as if crying in despair, is completely dark.

A wail fills the forest.

You can’t help but wonder what it’s so sorrowful for.

There’s a coffin in the middle of the woods.

It has been tied with multiple cords and ropes,

in what appears to be a desperate attempt to keep its contents from escaping.

However, the coffin continues to rumble and creak.

“Who are you, and what brings you here?”

A piece of paper rustles.

“Well, you came just at the right time for me;

I’ve urgent business that needs doing.

Won’t you take the job?”

It held out another piece of paper with lousy letters written on it.

Unfortunately, you can’t make sense of these lines and dots.

“How’s about it? You up for it?”

Some folks are blocking the way.

They’re sitting on a deck, yelling at each other.

“Look at this succulent piece! The rich juice running down the fibers of luscious meat… This is what chicken is about!”

“Wrong. This piece has a clean taste, with not an ounce of grease tainting the tongue. This is the real deal.”

The two turn around at the same time to face you.

“You there! Tell us which is better!”

A bright spotlight shines on a portion of the noisy area.

It seems as though the chickens are attending a… ball.

“That’s the tango.”

Looking at their movements which might be a dance or a tussle, you notice sauce leaking from one of them.

It doesn’t seem to be aware of this…

Some folks are blocking the way.

They’re sitting on a deck, yelling at each other.

“Look at this succulent piece! The rich juice running down the fibers of luscious meat… This is what chicken is about!”

“Wrong. This piece has a clean taste, with not an ounce of grease tainting the tongue. This is the real deal.”

The two turn around at the same time to face you.

“You there! Tell us which is better!”

A bright spotlight shines on a portion of the noisy area.

It seems as though the chickens are attending a… ball.

“That’s the tango.”

Looking at their movements which might be a dance or a tussle, you notice sauce leaking from one of them.

It doesn’t seem to be aware of this…

"It's us Kurokumo Clan's turf from here on out."

"Is it that hard for you to understand that you gotta pay the toll to use our road? Huh?"

People dressed in Kurokumo Clan garb stand in the way of unarmed civilians, threatening them.

"... I suppose that excuse was enough for them to tread on our territory as well."

Aeng-du does not hide her indignation. She is gritting her teeth.

What should we do about them?

"This must be a tavern..."

This bar or an inn is bustling, and its patrons are energetically chattering away. They all seem to be in a rather good mood.

A trio among the crowd is quite boisterously arguing and pointing fingers at each other.

"No, NO! I don't understand why this is even a matter of dispute! A blade is a weapon made for cutting, and the 'right' way to use a blade is to slash with it."

"You don't know what you're talking about! Stab a single point with all your might, and your foe shall surely fall!"

"... You're both wrong. Your half-hearted cuts and stabs won't do anything but piss 'em off. They'll be back on their feet immediately!"

"Smack their skulls with the blunt end—hilt or the scabbard, and knock them down for good! Make 'em too dazed to get up!"

The trio appeared to be talking about something pretty serious, so we'd stopped to listen to their debate...

They suddenly turned in our direction and called over to us.

"You there! Your band can clearly handle your weapons, am I wrong?"

"Answer us. What is the best way to wield your sword?"

"Of course, to slash is the best way to use a blade, is it not?"

What should I say to that?

"This is odd... this mist is..."

I don't know when it happened, but a thick layer of mist had descended all around us.

"I have heard a tale of one such nightly stroll. In this tale, a clueless traveler heedlessly wanders into a brumous haze, and finds himself afore an otherworldly being—"

"AAAGH! Stop, stop it!"

Just as the Sinners began loudly bickering with each other, I realized that there was something hazy standing in our way.

"Is that thing... dancing?"

A mysterious thing, dressed in white, danced gracefully before us with a large blade in hand.

When it met my gaze... or, when I thought it did...

... a sheathed blade had materialized in my hand.

What does it want me to do with it?

We hear a pair of voices as we walk alongside a stone fence. The two travelers are both carrying blades.

"I pity the people here..."

"Well, the decision of a Wing is absolute for its feathers. There is very little they can do about it."

One of them stands out—their clothing sets them apart from the locals. Maybe they're not from around here.

"Still, to allow the Kurokumo Clan to make their way in here? That's too much."

"The Wing cares about naught else but fluttering its wings. All else becomes insignificant."

Sounds like they're talking about the current S Corp.

"More outsiders, I see. How convenient."

The pair stops in their tracks, then turns around to face us.

"The Kurokumo Clan... no. You do not wear their garb. You don't appear to be peasants seeking to make some cash in the chaos of the Backstreets, either..."

"Well, then. What do you outsiders think of the current climate?"

How should I answer this?

Shimmering blue letters float before you.

The way that these similar words are ordered makes it difficult to understand what it's trying to say.

To say what is right is right and what is wrong is wrong is not right,

but that is not to say that to say what is wrong is right and right is wrong is wrong.

To say that what is wrong is right and right is wrong is not wrong,

and to say that what is right is right and what is wrong is wrong is, in turn, to say that this wrong is right.

... Does it want my impression of these words?

What is it talking about?

Just another busy, busy watch factory.

"!@#$!#$#!$@#$!$#@$."

A man in shiny dress shoes and a clean set of suit, clearly the factory's owner, is shouting at his employees in dirty, oil-gunked work clothes.

Something seems to catch his eye, causing him to glare at one of the employees and scream with anger.

The employee, who is already occupied with his work, gets flustered and tries to say something. But it takes him ages to even open his mouth.

The owner pulls out a recorder in a frustrated attempt to communicate, but it doesn't help.

"I just checked the security camera. You've been napping for two whole hours! Explain yourself."

"F… … … a… … …"

"… … c… … … t…"

"Can't you speak any faster, man?!"

Maybe there's something around here to resolve this situation?

A random T Corp. street. A Collection Staff is collecting taxes from someone.

"Will you be making your payments in time, or in cash?"

"Like I said, we already paid our Time Taxes in full! Besides, three-hundred-million Ahn? That's absurd...!"

"The records state that you have accrued additional Time Tax responsibilities due to the donation gift tax."

"No way. Is this because I gave away my time to those kids in the Backstreets?"

"I only gave them three hundred hours, so how the hell does that transform into a three-hundred-million Ahn in taxes?! That doesn't make any sense!"

"Tax calculations in T Corp. are always exceptionally accurate."

The Time Collector strides toward the citizen to neutralize them.

People from all walks of life, all with different hours to spend in a given day, speak and move about in varying speeds.

The sound coming from this odd inequality fills the street with incongruence.

Two people catch your attention in that chaos.

A rich-looking youth, despite his apparent time affluence, is walking in a brisk pace toward the streets...

... and a poor-looking old man, despite his apparent time poverty, is slowly walking into an alley with a leisurely look on his face.

Who to follow?

A secret hideout of the Yurodiviye. A Yurodivy is fervently reciting the texts given to them by the Saint.

"We have become nothing but cogs in a machine that exists solely for the industrialists, the bourgeoisie, and the Wings."

"What else, what other human relation remains among the Citizens but the narrow self-interest and heartless bonds created by capital?

"Thus, we shall cast aside the cold, unfeeling metal we call coin; instead, we shall trade our warmth with one another based on our needs!"

"To the haves, the laws of the Nests are shields that protect their privileges; yet, to the have-nots, they are chains that shackle us!"

"Then we shall defy the laws of the Nest! We shall show them the wrath of the have-nots!"

"All that the Yurodiviye have to lose is our chains; all that we have to gain is a world without hunger!"

The Yurodivy suddenly points in our direction.

Looks like we're going to have to say something.

You see a victim of the Time Ripper.

You can't even touch them thanks to the spatio-temporal displacement superposition phenomenon.

Is there anything you can do here to help?

A ticket booth inside a WARP train platform.

In front of it is a long line of people trying to get their tickets.

As we were waiting in line, a passenger approached us. They're dressed like an employee of a Wing...

"'Scuse me, can I ask you folks something?"

"Verily! Ask away!"

"If it's gonna take just ten seconds to get there anyway... what's the real difference between first class and economy class seats?"

"I did make bank from this work trip, but... first class ticket's probably a waste of money, right?"

The Sinners all turn to look at me as the passenger waits for our reply.

As we were waiting around on the platform, we happened across a Fixer equipped with various prosthetic parts.

A cool costume and four mechanical arms.

That was more than enough to draw the interest of a few Sinners. They all look at them intently.

Maybe the Fixer felt their gaze.

They turn around and look back in our direction.

"I noticed that you've been watching me for a while. What's up?"

Past the dividing door, I see several W Corp. Cleanup Agents who have been turned into Bloodbags.

They're endlessly wandering the train car like they're patrolling the area.

Signs of a brutal fight litter the floor. Various agent gears covered in blood and viscera...

They haven't noticed us yet.

We could probably sneak by them...

... but maybe there's something we can use among the gears littered on the floor.

Hearts beating. Muscle tissues straining. Skin brushing.

Those were the sounds that filled the giant train car we emerged into.

Blue outlines of the WARP train flash intermittently between an imposing machine of blood and flesh.

It is a data center of sorts, made to store something. But the parts that form the machine are made from organic material of humans.

A voice speaks, saying that biometric authentication is needed for us to cross over to the next car.

We'll have to walk to the center of the room where the worming, intertwined mass of flesh is.

A prosthetic body blocks the passageway between two train cars.

We approach them carefully, just in case that it is a Bloodbag.

... It is a Bloodbag, just dormant and immobilized.

A closer inspection through the mechanical joints reveals that any flesh that was once there has been completely desiccated.

The swollen veins broke through the steel armor, turning into red crystal growths all over the prosthetic body.

Though their expression is unobservable, it isn't hard to imagine that palpable pain must have been involved in this process. The Fixer's last moments left them in a twisted form that couldn't have been born from anything else but unimaginable pain.

We came across a containment unit as we were making our way across the hallway. Its door is letting off sparks of lightning.

Looks like the generator's shorted; the door refuses to close. But it doesn't seem like whatever Abnormality in there's escaped.

Try as we might to take a better look inside, the sheer darkness of the containment unit makes it hard to tell what's going on in there.

The webs haning from the ceiling and the suspiciously pitch-black floor were quite bizarre to behold, however.

Every corner of this room is filled with an emerald light.

Somebody spilled a bunch of Enkephalin on the table, enough to start slowly dripping to the floor.

'Executive Manager, we've found some Enkephalin here.'

'Mm. It will likely be helpful to our endeavors should we collect them'

'T.T.G.G.C.C?'

'"Take that glass gas canister, capiche?" ... she says...'

A strand of light peeks through the glass and the ajar door.

Beyond the glass is a bizarre skull...

A floating skull bound by thorns to a cross, surrounded by a circular light.

The empty eye sockets of the skull gaze straight into us.

'This Abnormality's denomination is 'One Sin and Hundreds of Good Deeds.'

'Of course, it is not the same entity that once resided inside the L Corp.'

'Fathomless depths lie within the hollows of its eyes; piercing us.'

We look up to see white butterflies above us.

Though given wings, the butterflies wander the hallway, fluttering to nowhere.

We make our way to where it seems to rest a while, and we see a large coffin past the transparent glass window.

It was too grand for a one, yet too small for many.

'A lonesome coffin lies.'

'Eugh, a coffin...? I have a bad feeling about this. We probably shouldn't touch it, right?'

'That'd be the safer choice, yeah... but what if there's something in there that could help us?

The factory is brightly lit with red and green light fixtures.

Amidst the chaotic din of machines and clanking tools...

... are tiny gnomes, scurrying about busily between the assembly lines.

'Let's g-ome! Hurry up-ome!!'

'Put 'em on the conveyor belt-ome!!'

'Let's get packin'-ome!!'

An old, creaky bed sits solemnly in the middle of the room.

It is surrounded by numerous lanterns and candlesticks.

Some are burnt out, their remains ashen and cold, leaving only dark singes as testament of their old flames...

But the others were still lit, their warm flames diligently traveling down the wicks.

Yet, the chillingly dark shadows lurking at the bed's legs, next to the sheets half-sliding off the bed, are shrouded still.

An odd tremor vibrates the floor.

And soon, I hear a sound of something dragging across the floor accompanied by a sensation of a cold, clammy gaze peering intently in my direction...

What could possibly lie beneath that bed?

Amidst this blue-aura filled place, a shadowy being approaches us and holds out his hand.

In the palm of the being is a bullet. It pulsates with a foreboding aura.

'This is a magic bullet that will never miss, no matter what.'

'But... it has one condition. The final bullet will always fly toward the one you love most.'

'If you are still willing to fire this bullet, or have someone you would like to shoot... I can grant you that.'

Gunfire echoes from a close distance.

When we sought out the sound, we only found ourselves the bloody remains of a battle.

The combatants must've already left the scene; it is quiet here.

Several gears, now inert, litter the bloodied floor.

Amidst them is an intact chair.

There's a gear on the chair that's still turning.

We found ourselves in what appeared to be a rather empty office building.

There were Fixers here, discussing the details of their upcoming contract.

'Got it. We'll bring just two sniper rifles for this contract.'

'I'd say we need an assault rifle just in case.'

'Fine by me.'

As soon as the discussion was over, the Fixers picked up their packs and left the room.

I can hear the sounds of gun assembly and flipping book pages.

This place seems to be an educational facility of sorts. Rather serious, too.

Maybe the Sinners can learn something from one of the instructors.

We're at the starting point of the Dungeon of the Fathoms.

We found ourselves in a room that appears to be a workshop of E.G.O gears.

'If you have scored below 100% synchronization rate in the aptitude test, take only a single E.G.O from here.'

An ominous warning sign greets us all, and the same words repeat ceaselessly from the speaker.

The Sinners all go to take a look, enticed by the sign telling us that we can pick up E.G.O gears here... but what we find there are E.G.O Gifts.

"Wha? These ain't E.G.O gears. These are... them gifts or something, right?"

"It appears that E.G.O are manifest here in the shape of E.G.O Gifts."

"Hm. Can't we just take them all?"

"This is a Dungeon of the Fathoms. As it differs from the usual Mirror Dungeons, it is highly advisable that its rules are followed.

What should we do?

We came across a group of researchers passionately poring over various documents.

They're having a debate about two subjects: emotions and flame.

"Regular flames don't seem to hurt the Abnormalities very much. So why does this work, I wonder...?"

"Perhaps a greater degree of wrathful emotions opens up the room for the fire's heat to touch Abnormalities and Distortions, both entities of the unknown."

They must've noticed us listening in to their conversation intently—one of them approaches us with a glint in their eyes.

"Are you the 'sample' who's agreed to this experiment?"

"If so, try this on."

In the researcher's hands was what looked like an ignition plug... or a testing machine of sorts.

Several researchers are moving about busily in a hectic-looking laboratory.

Did something escape, or something?

As we stood there gawking at the mess, someone walked up to the Sinners.

"Get outta my way!"

"A-actually, you know what? Perfect timing."

"Eat this. C'mon, we don't have much time 'till the clinical trial report deadline!"

We see the Ardor Blossom Moth within the containment unit.

Small, crimson particles of flame surround it like an aura.

The flaming wings die out one moment, only to roar vigorously in the next.

An incessant attempt to set fire to everything around it.

"What a beautiful specimen, this Ardor Blossom Moth. Have you finished your observations?"

"We've been learning a lot about the Abnormality recently."

"There's still a lot of unknowns, but still."

"Speaking of which, here's a pop quiz. What E.G.O Gift can you get from the Ardor Blossom Moth?"

We see the Faelantern within the containment unit.

A cyan-hued fairy flutters toward the wiry, ancient branches of the tree and softly lands on one of them.

The branch seating the fairy sways, as though to entice us to get closer to them...

Bright, countless yellow eyes glimmer from the shadows beneath its roots.

"What a beautiful specimen, this Faelantern. Have you finished your observations?"

"We've been learning a lot about the Abnormality recently."

"There's still a lot of unknowns, but still."

"Speaking of which, here's a pop quiz. What E.G.O Gift can you get from the Faelantern?"

At the end of this hallway, a group of researchers is having a discussion in front of an unnaturally dark place.

Noticing our presence, their faces brighten up as they approach us.

"Please, will you investigate this area ahead for us?"

"We will help with the best of our abilities should you accept."

Several messy, frantic letters are carved into the wall with knives.

I can practically feel the sheer horror and desperation of their writers from the wild letters.

Upon close inspection, the deep marks tell a tale written in terror.

'They're swarming us the monsters I hear them their breathing they're going to kill us all'

'Save me please someone anyone save me I dont want to die please'

'Fear is what drives men to madness. The monsters are near, I can feel the rumble of their feet. They are coming…'

There are unfinished sentences written on the wall.

Death has carved deep marks between them.

"Is this a tavern?"

We walk into what seems to be a bar of sorts, its guests rowdily drinking and chatting about in groups.

We find a seat to relax, but another group that was sitting nearby approaches us.

"What's going on here? I haven't seen your faces around here before..."

"This is a good day, boys—let this one slide. Don't stir up unnecessary trouble."

"Yes, dame! Of course, dame!"

That's when we realize that they're all carrying swords with them.

Swords engraved with elaborate cloud patterns.

"Did you hear about that new Syndicate that sprang up today?"

"Ah, the... the group that primarily uses spears, right...?"

"Dumbasses. Swords are the most superior form of weaponry there is, the apex of arms. And they use <i>spears</i> instead?

"Let's all be completely honest here, guys. Sure, we're a Thumb subsidiary, but there's just something badass about a sword, huh? Way cooler than fists or guns."

"Good thing we have these fine people here to give us a most fair assessment on the superiority of swords.

We feel their gaze simultaneously turning to look at us.

Walking along the stone brick wall, we hear a pair of voices conversing.

"I understand that you've been having some trouble as of late."

"We would not have had any troubles with the tributes if those Blade Lineage bastards had not suddenly appeared in our turf, sir..."

The outfit of one of the pair stands out.

I can hear some of the Sinners recognizing it as the uniform of the Thumb.

"First, exact the appropriate punishment for breaking into your turf..."

"Of course, sir."

"But don't forget to show the right respect for those who deserve it. Am I understood?"

"Wait. Who's there? Is it the Blade Lineage...? Hm, doesn't seem like it."

Noticing our presence, the pair turns around to face us.

"Hm. Why don't we ask for their opinion as well, now that they're here?"

"You there. What are your thoughts on the Kurokumo Clan's current status?"

"Better choose your words carefully."

The night deepens.

Jade light shines through the window under the stifling moonless night sky.

As I conversed with the Sinner, something seemed to block out the light all of a sudden.

As we stood there, wary, someone ran into the room and swung a bladed instrument at us.

Thankfully, a Sinner unsheathed a weapon to block the intruder's attack.

They must've decided that the mission was a failure.

The opponent stared at us in silence for a moment before fleeing the scene.

We notice henchmen of the Middle standing in the distance, discussing something.

It is likely that they are searching for a target who happened to get themselves written up in their Book of Vengeance.

Upon our approach, they stop us in our tracks and show us a picture.

"Seen a guy like this before?"

We come across a dark interior.

People dressed in dark clothes are standing in a group. They are all wearing bamboo hats.

It seems that this group is expecting enemies; they are busily preparing for something.

"We have intercepted intelligence that someone will be going after our lord tonight."

"Backup team, stay here and wait for your next order."

"Operation team, head to the enemy infiltration points and prepare for their arrival."

"You all know your missions. Stick to them."

It is that hour of the night when it becomes impossible to guess the time.

We'd gotten off the bus for some reconnaissance when I sense a sudden, ominous tremor.

I turn to face the origin of the tremor, only to see a massive flood of Sweepers rushing toward us, blinking with their red lights.

They will sweep everything clean in their wake.

The longer we hesitate, the closer they're getting.