The Negotiation (before battle)

<So this passageway leads straight into Mephistopheles...?>

This is where it all started... This... this stupid bus awoke me from my slumber!

If only this bus hadn't completely filled up the freight car... I wasn't planning on commencing the Parade so soon... or creating a Kindred at all...

... Dante.

<Hm?>

The connection has been restored.

Connection...?

The suddenness of her statement briefly knocked me off my train of thought. I looked at her and cocked my head in confusion, and she replied with an even quieter whisper without looking away from the Bloodfiend.

Boarding Mephistopheles has... reestablished my connection to Faust.

<…!>

<Did you know that this would work?>

No. And as I have stated before, this was a pure, incalculable gamble based on my own uncertain hypothesis.

This success helps me somewhat comprehend Miss Rodya's fascination with gambling.

A faint smile momentarily appears on Faust's lips as she jests, then fades away.

Now that the connection has been reestablished, I would like to make a complaint against the Fausts in the Gesellschaft management regarding the fact that they neglected to list the information pertaining to the loss of connection within the interiors of the WARP trains, however...

... finding a solution to this situation takes precedence. I have much reason to believe that their omission was done on purpose, but... I hope such is not the case.

Faust gently advanced toward the Bloodfiend.

... Let us discuss the details of our compromise. What are you willing to accept in return for the master keycard?

If thou wert just anyone, I would have wished to turn thee all into Bloodbags and drink every last drop of thy blood... but thou art unlike a common person...

My wish is to maintain the secrecy of this kingdom of mine for as long as possible. And thine wish is to leave this place, is it not?

Once I relinquish to thee this keycard... and once thou returnest to your first class seats... we'll live here happily ever after like nothing happened!

And when the train gets there, you get off the train. Everything goes back to the way they're supposed to be. How's that for a deal?

Like nothing happened...

<... Faust, what about the job we were contracted to do in the first place...?>

Upon arrival, our memories and any signs of battle will be entirely erased. We will have no way to relay the news, whether it be one of success or failure.

If we had the means to defeat him, then at least W Corp. would inform us that our contract was successful after the fact. However...

... this current scenario will leave us with nothing to show for, not even the smallest hint, and the contract will end in failure.

However, what takes precedence over the contract is you and the Sinners' psychological stability.

<…….>

It's not like we've always been successful, so that was something I could live with. But...

<But... what about the other passengers of this train? And its future passengers?>

I remember the look on Don Quixote's face whenever we would come across these inevitable forms of injustice.

…….

Faust does not reply.

Yet, the lack of reply was a reply all on its own.

<... Are we going to have to let them... die?>

Innocent lives will be lost. But we cannot prioritize their lives over our safety.

That must be Faust's... and the company's policy.

And yet…

I... I shan't allow this...

<D-Don Quixote...>

I thought her wounds were too severe for her to even crawl, let alone walk, but... with sheer will, she pushed herself through the pain to reach the freight car.

I... will not tolerate this... We cannot... let this vile wretch live... and turn a blind eye to... everything he's done...

I-it's her...! Again...!

W-what, you want to stay here for what is essentially an eternity within this train? I... I know what this is all about! Everything hinges on this key, doesn't it? As soon as I snap this in half, you'll have to spend eons inside this -

I... care not... I would welcome it... even should it mean exacting eons of penance upon thee... 'Tis much preferable to letting thy villainy go unanswered... Let this place be the site of thine eternal judgment...

Faust and I grabbed Don Quixote. She'd normally be strong enough to wriggle free of our grips, but she'd already pushed herself beyond her limits merely by walking here.

Faust... unhand me...! Thou mustn't let him live, Manager Esquire...!

<Don Quixote... Letting him destroy that key means that you'll be condemning the Sinners to thousands of years of torment.>

Then I shall... fill the millennia with the tales most exciting... that I had once read in the magazines. No amount of time, however ineffable... shall be too great to overcome should we endeavor as one...

Certainly, you are aware that your suggestion is no solution at all, Don Quixote.

Th-then there has to be another way...? No...?

Thou art both possessors of great wisdom... Faust, Manager Esquire... Is there truly no path in which we may bring justice to the villain, and the Sinners remain unharmed...?

…….

Her struggle begins to wane. But this was no acceptance. This was dejection.

<W-wait! Don Quixote, NO!>

In the commotion, we failed to notice that the Bloodfiend had been quietly advancing at us; we let Don Quixote go at the last second...

... a second too late.

Oh, Father... forgive my transgressions, for I am about to create another without thy sanction...

Thou shalt become my next Kindred...!

Cassetti screams incoherently as he leaps onto Don Quixote, piercing her neck with his fangs before we even had the chance to do anything.

<…!>

... Oh, I did not expect this to be the solution...

<Faust...? What do you mean... "the solution"...?>

... According to this information I had viewed in the past, and once again just now, it's...

Mm. ... Dante. Take cover behind me and remain absolutely still.

And please, do note that the other Sinners must never hear a word of what is about to happ -

Oh.

Don Quixote levitates slightly into the air, the strings on her shoes unraveling as they slip off her feet on their own.

She looks on with bewilderment as her running shoes fall to the floor.

And...

AAAAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHH!

GAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! ROCINANTE!!!!!!!!!!

I've always had this question swirling at the unfocused backstage of my mind.

<Why are you always so... protective of those running shoes, Don Quixote?>

Hm? Running shoes? Ah...

Dost thou speak of our dear Rocinante?

<Uh... yeah, those.>

I! Have battled through thick and thin, feast and famine, with dear Rocinante. In sorrow, and in joy, no matter the brutality of trials that hath struck me, it hath been a loyal steed by my side for however long it hath been in existence.

She... doesn't know when she got them?

Ah, Manager Esquire! Wherefore hast thou not saluted Rocinante as well? This may be a rather auspicious occasion to do so!

<Nope, I think I'm good...>

Aha, be not so bashful! Go on ahead!

Looks stinky. Small girl is torturing tick-tock with stinky.

Stinky they are not! Scuffed as they might appear, Rocinante is in pristine condition...! Also, thou shalt not address me as a "small gir -

Evacuate. Evacuate.

<Don Quixote, don't tell me you go to sleep wearing those running sh - I mean, Rocinante.>

Oho, I have always been quite certain that someone so esteemed as thee, Manager Esquire, would care to ask me how Rocinante fareth!

I didn't mention that this question was inspired by numerous eyewitness reports from other Sinners who saw her wandering the halls in her pajamas... and wearing Rocinante.

Verily, Rocinante and I remain bound together, even in slumber! There shall be no separating the two of us!

We are bound not by need nor want, we are simply bound together through plight and delight.

Now that I think about it, every single Identity of Don Quixote also wears that pair of running shoes, "Rocinante."

<Have you ever taken them... off?>

Take them off? Fie, whatever dost thou mean? As in... detach Rocinante from my body? 'Tis a very odd insinuation thou makest!

She looks at me with puzzled eyes, as though taking those pair of running shoes off was somehow an inconceivable idea.

They were something much more than just her favorite pair of running shoes. Her attitude about it was totally detached from common sense, too, but she didn't notice anything strange about herself...

What does Rocinante mean to Don Quixote?

What even is that thing?

<Gnnngh…!>

An overwhelmingly powerful pressure suddenly explodes, radiating in all directions...

... as the metallic stench of blood suffocates the bus, filling every corner of it with its sickening horror.

... Then, darkness.

N-no... that's... impossible...

In all-absorbing darkness, voice is our only light.

You... you are... the Second Kindred... How did you... I should've felt your presence...!

I do think I saw a faint... shimmering.

It was red... and she wore a long fur adornment of sorts.

And through the shimmering, I saw... I think I saw... red eyes.

You have committed the sin of filial impiety. Transgressor.

I know that voice. But I also don't. I've never heard it in such a low, imposing tone before.

It speaks toward the lesser being.

The Bloodfiend, shriveled and kneeling, trembling... pathetic.

Mercy, o venerated ancestor. I beg for the mercy of the Second Kindred, I beg for the mercy of the Second Kindred, I beg -

Insolent worm.

Kahhh...

Crimson droplets of blood slowly rise around the Bloodfiend's mouth... before congealing and sealing his mouth shut.

No language worming its way out of your maw shall be worth my ears.

No...

To commit the sin of filial impiety by attempting to travel against the bloodstream, to commit such abomination against your ancestor... I cannot well sanction your impudence of continued existence.

Mmh! Mmppfh! Mmmphhh!!!

Coagulate... then melt away.

Cassetti's body begins liquefying into a slick stream of blood, his form curdling and crumbling, then dripping to the ground.

He melts rapidly yet ponderously like that ice cream Don Quixote loved so much - puddling on the floor heated under the searing sun.

<…….>

... Ah.

You.

Don Quixote turned to look at me, who was still on the ground after being thrown by the shockwave.

And with a cryptic look of pity, she uttered something.

Indeed... you must be the promised timepiece...

Something I couldn't quite understand.

Rocinante, to me...

Rocinante...

... I beseech you.

<…….>

I carefully reached out, grabbed her shoes...

And slipped them onto her bare feet, one by one.

Ah... one day...

She gasped, stumbled, and...

... slumped to the ground.