TO CONTINUE, IN WHICH IS DISCUSSED THE MEMORY NECESSARY TO BRING TO LIGHT THE CLARITY OF THIS TALE OF ADVENTURE (before battle)
Answer me now! What is it that thou claimest that I have?
What weight did my name carry?! Speak!!
Where - How - Where didst thou...
... Everything. Everything that we Bloodfiends of this Area desire.
To exist in ignorance of the truth that we are but going in circles, not marching toward what lies ahead...
Something that we all desire but own not, yet you have...
Oblivion.
That which all who are lost in this Area yearn so desperately for.
The privilege to flee from everything. From desires, from shame.
The gift of oblivion, the innocence, the naïveté to endure and live through another day.
No, not again...!
…!
I thought it was about time you missed me.
It is high time you regaled us with that particular tale, isn't it?
Tell us how that grand adventure, for which you abandoned us all, ended.
What...?
Galloping on, and on...
As always, Rocinante was merrily and energetically galloping on with you upon its saddle...
... Come on... just die!
Hngh...
... while leaving us to slowly expire in a most painful death. Just like this poor soul.
... Enough.
Please... Enough...
Thy strength must surpass mine; thus bound I have become by thy sorcery. Yes...
So please, I must beseech thee so. I have no choice but to beg, for I cannot turn my tongue into a sharp spear to skewer thee...!
I will pray unto thee, cower and grovel before thee... to cease this wickedness!
Well, why stop now? Don't you just love sharing the stories of your adventures with everyone? Isn't this exactly what you have always wished for?
You have such a captive audience before you, listening to your tale more intently than ever. You won't get another opportunity like this.
... I don't want to. Not anymore.
But you will.
You will share your tale.
For that is your role in this play.
Thus you, Rocinante, and the Knight of the White Moon embark on your final adventure. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that... you fled.
We saw so many rivers on our way here, didn't we?
All these rivers... were beneath the City all along?
It is said that when an efflorescent tree comes to blossom, steeped and nurtured in the waters of many rivers since its saplinghood, it becomes imbued with a special power.
I can't even begin to imagine what powers a tree born from that particular river may hold.
Pray tell, what river is it that we seek?
Well, none of the rivers we've walked by is the one we're looking for.
... Not this one either, then?
Regrettably, no. Perhaps we should seek a river that flows even deeper into the abyss.
The depths of the Ruins are certainly dangerous, even for someone who's ventured down here in the past. It's giving even you a run for your money, isn't it?
... What river is this...?
Whoever drinks the waters of this river shall be granted a vision of... a certain future. It brings the drinker visions of what is to come, yet blinds them to all things save for those of the future, driving them to insanity.
And to the drinker, only a singular future remains: a vision of their own madness.
I call this the 'Mirae-mirae River'... or the River of Future-future. It must've had a name once, but this is the name I gave it.
Quite the irony, then.
Though it won't show you the exact moment you wish to see, you may look into the river to catch a glimpse of a certain moment in the future. It may be quite disorienting, but... would you like to try anyway?
I ill wish to be so close to the waters, but... I shall.
What do you see?
Chains... a great gate... and... a timepiece... A flaming timepiece...? And... a promise...
It is as you have said. Visions I have seen, yet I fail to see the sense in each of them.
Right. You won't ever get a clear picture unless you drink the waters yourself.
Still, if you've seen that clock... and the visions of promise...? Hm. Perhaps this has something to do with that promise you made with him.
The promised timepiece, is it...?
After suffering through brutal trials upon trials, you arrive at the place you have been searching so hard for.
And here, we return to the very first chapter of this tale.
This is...?
The River of Oblivion.
Lethe...
…!
Thus spake the Knight of the White Moon.
Are you certain?
Drink from this well, and the life you have lived thus far will be no more.
All of it, gone in a sip.
You reflexively gulp.
…….
I have... decided.
Will you answer me, were I to ask you why?
I see it still, past the darkness of my eyelids.
I see a vision of that day. The screaming and shouting, the stench of blood, the...
…….
The more I recall, the more I find myself cracking and crumbling like a castle of sand.
Thus I wish to forget everything that's happened and crawl into a deep slumber.
Because while I sleep, there will be no fear, no hope, no suffering, and no glory.
But there is an unsavory part to sleep, isn't there? It's...
Yes. It is much like death. Yet it distinguishes itself in ways that matter.
You want to dream.
For those mere words which made us leave everything behind, only to shackle us in the end... I long to continue the dream I have been but a mere witness to.
Then...
... I have no other way to help you, do I?
The name of this companion...
Then... before oblivion takes my name away from you, allow me to introduce myself one last time.
I am the flower-seeker, a wanderer, a traveler across the City and the Ruins.
I am the one who marked the final period to this unforgotten adventure of a lifetime with you.
My name is Bari, the Knight of the White Moon.
I will now leave, and return to my search for the river and the flower born from its waters. As I always have.
... Even should I drink the waters of this river... will you tell me the tales of Fixers still?
... I may pass by this area quite often through my journey.
Every chance I get, I'll leave a book or an item behind. Things that may be of help to you.
... Thank you.
Thus, you lean over the river to drink its water.
However valiant a knight Don Quixote was, she cannot help but shudder from an overwhelming sense of terror and omen.
I... no. I cannot have let such fear touch me. I, who have written such tales of brave adventures...
Well, every tale needs a rising action and a climax, doesn't it? It's the ups and downs that keeps things interesting.
Hgh, nngh...!
Sansón ignores Don Quixote's struggles and rapidly continues the tale, like he was incanting a spell.
Our common, primeval fear of the flowing water. Your body shudders, horripilation of the skin spreading through every inch of your being as your psyche, your consciousness itself, furiously refuses to approach its undulating surface. Our blood, thicker than water, cycles through your system with inhuman rapidity as your heart begins to race like that of a rabid animal.
Yet, you must conquer that fear. You had to.
Moments before you take a sip of that river's water, a thought flickers through your mind. That to continue this adventure was meaningless.
That is how you dismount Rocinante.
Rocinante, only borrowed from its original master.
Don Quixote looks down toward Rocinante.
I... at least Faust and I know what Sansón's incantation is attempting to accomplish.
He's trying to draw out her memories from the River of Oblivion...
<Don Quixote! No, don't...!>
<Faust! Do someth - >
... Nothing can be done.
This flow is destined to be.
What... what's goin' on? You two look bloody serious all of a sudden.
Wait. If we connect all these tales into one, then...
No way, is she...?
... No. That's impossible.
Is there something you know, Xichun? Can you let me in on it?
Don't get all excited. I'm probably wrong. But...
... if this terrible prediction turns out to be correct, then you'll find out even if you don't want to.
... I'll compliment your nerves, at least.
Don Quixote's spine slowly bends forward.
This cannot be stopped. She does not try to stop it, either. Don Quixote moves as though she was destined to, as though this was all but her part in the play.
For a moment, she appears tranquil, even brave. Like a knight briefly dismounting from a beloved steed.
Yet once she dismounts, once the repressed memories return...
The Sinners will come face-to-face with the red glow of her eyes and the metallic stench of blood that surrounds her.
Once the truth comes out, we... the Sinners... will never be able to see her in the same light again.
Dante...?
... This must have aught to do with her ragged running shoes...
What I've been fearing ever since the incident at the WARP train, the fear that has been madly scratching at the back of my mind...
The fear that the bond between the Sinners will be irrevocably broken.
Will everyone be accepting of this deception, accidental though it may have been?
Even if we were to survive, will she return to how she once was, as one of us Sinners?
How will I appear in their eyes? I, who knowingly hid the truth from them? Can I truly face this Don Quixote, when I trembled from so much fear the last time?
... Yet...
As if to render all these raging thoughts in my head void...
Don Quixote takes off Rocinante...
and lets her bare feet touch the cold earth.
All of a sudden, visions of Don Quixote's past begins flooding into me, raw and unfiltered.
Flee... for you must live. For you must live and continue my tale.
But I'm a... ... I cannot live among humans. I cannot...
Have you forgotten? With my Rocinante, no place shall be beyond your reach.
Rocinante, stop! Stop walking, NO!!!
I don't want to leave, I don't! Why do you refuse to obey me...?
Please, please! I don't want an adventure, stop! Please!
Please, Rocinante...
Don't take me away from here...
There are places called 'amusement parks' in the City.
Everyone is happy at amusement parks, merely by being there.
It's enough to make everyone dance, sing, and laugh.
No wars. No strife of any kind...
Red fluid wells in Don Quixote's eyes like it did back on the train. The very same sanguine color I feared so much, the eyes I never wished to see again.
…….
She inhales deeply, then exhales.
Like she hadn't breathed in forever.
She turns around and looks at - no, looks *down* at the Bloodfiends surrounding us.
Reflected in her eyes are things infinitely beneath her.
... There you are.
Finally, the preparations for the Carnival... the scenes... are complete.
I remember those eyes... those eyes that regarded me as you so mercilessly tore through us. Without even a hint of regret or guilt.
Bravo. Now every path is opened.
The Parade is complete at last.
Sancho, I have come to a decision.
What is it now?
I am going to be the best Fixer in the City.
I shall protect the weak and punish the wicked.
From what I hear, denizens of the City have been making these fellowships called 'Associations' by need.
Did you get this idea from that Knight of the Moon or whatever?
I am telling you now, this new goal of yours is going to crash and burn in less than three days. Quit stirring trouble and stay put.
Remember your last momentary passion with... what was it? Knitting? Embroidery? That lasted a whole two days before you got tired of it. And that was after you sent us out to find all kinds of high-quality yarn for that little passion project.
Silence, Sancho. You keep balking at my passions with your chastisements. At this point, I am having a difficult time determining which one of us is the higher Kindred.
Right, but you always do whatever you want to do anyway.
Don Quixote...?
S-she IS Don Quixote, right...?
Where's she going all on her own...?
Will she be coming today? Again?
It is high time you put an end to this rivalry, isn't it? Or... Hm. I fear that time may already be long past.
Tsk, indeed. But... I have been having a certain thought as of late.
Why does it matter whether someone wins or loses?
What matters is that I must hear what comes next in her tale. How dare that human cut her story short at its climax!
I... have nothing. I don't know why you keep letting that human in here if you are not even going to fight.
Yet, Sancho... for all your chiding words of disapproval...
Don't think for a moment I haven't noticed you constantly perking your ears in our direction. Especially at the part where the Hana Association Fixer encountered the monster that demanded that they pay a toll with a single rice cake on that winding hill path...
I-I most certainly did not.
You most certainly did. Ah, speaking of which... do you suppose the Hana Association will eventually come out on top?
No. I believe that the Fixer who hails from this 'Zwei' will overtake the -
... Ah.
Case in point.
<Don Quixote!>
The name that feels so alien now. The ticking sounds of my clock. Neither stops Don Quixote.
But how, pray, will you become a Fixer yourself?
Fixers are but a concept constructed by humans.
They will try to hunt us the moment we get anywhere near them.
Perhaps. For now, at least.
But I implore you to think, Sancho. Miss not the forest for the trees. Should we start paving the path for peace now, then...
... one day, we shall find ourselves coexisting with humans, hand-in-hand.
And I shall be the first-ever Bloodfiend to become a Fixer. Is that not an idea most wondrous?
Maybe they'll even make this 'fan club' in my honor.
Certainly, perhaps in that ridiculously grand dream of yours.
Yet that is how dreams are meant to be. Ridiculously grand.
…….
…!
You have returned to me, my Sancho.
A voice, foreign yet familiar. The sound of thick wooden doors and heavy chains.
As soon as the door opened ajar, we could feel the powerful energy of the Golden Bough emanating from within.
Was this the scent of rusted iron, or the dense, metallic smell of blood?
The speaker, his body one with the pillar from which the scent emanated...
... speaks to us through the Golden Bough impaling his torso.
... Or, perhaps... he speaks to Don Quixote.
Now, tell me all about it.
That dream of mine... you have dreamed in my stead...