Orienting herself, Bianca moves toward the Gray Raven Commandant's position.
The aquarium's original drainage system kicks into gear, slowly pulling the seawater out of the passageway. The Red Tide, a murky serpent, slithers along both sides of the path.
Maybe these M.I.N.D. disturbances are just lingering effects of the severe Punishing Virus corruption. Hazily, Bianca catches glimpses of indistinct "shadows" along both sides of her path.
In the church amid the wind and snow, she sees herself praying devoutly.
Dressed in a nun's robe, she has knelt countless times before the statue, hands clasped, praying for the children to be fed, for people's safety, for God's people to find salvation, for...
My neural network ran sophisticated calculations and the conclusion I reached was that, even the angel of love was nothing compared to her.
I raised her up. Mechanoids have no concept of time, but I found that 9460800 minutes passed by in a flash.
If only I could see Bianca... my child, grow up.
...If only.
God loves and blesses the world, but as a mechanoid, I don't need or even receive such blessings or protection.
Still, if my constant prayers and piety mean anything...
Please protect my child, Bianca... and all the other human children like her.
...
God, if I ever lose myself, I'm ready to face any judgment and punishment...
She once prayed for divine guidance, hoping it would show her the way forward and help her make the right choice...
She sees the Construct, bound by a restraint device, standing behind that door, staring ahead with lifeless eyes.
This is why I despise talkative people. If it weren't for that useless human waste earlier, we wouldn't be in this predicament right now.
What we sell is safety, and safety is achieved by weapons and strength. And what's the most powerful weapon in our era? I'm sure you know the answer yourself.
You are my finest creation. Except for that little flaw of yours—your faith, which prevented me from wiping your consciousness clean.
But one thing you have in common with the other products is that, like all weapons, you have a limited lifespan.
Don't waste your energy struggling. Soon, you'll be the same as those Constructs you've "cleaned up".
She dropped her hands, no longer knowing how to offer her prayers to God.
She had prayed countless times, yet God only rewarded her with suffering.
She sees the defecting Constructs who were slain—
Purifying Force... it's the witch from the Purifying Force!
Why? Why are you coming after me?! I haven't done anything wrong!
I just... I just wanted to live... That's only why I sold information about the Task Force to—
What else... could she have done?
But it troubles me sometimes as well.
Why would I have conflicting thoughts when I claim to abide by my faith...?
Hands once clasped in prayer now reach for guns. Palms that once held lilies now grip a bow.
Her hands aren't soft or warm anymore; they've turned to cold metal, covered in countless scars...
She has silently kept her prayers while others brand her knuckles with all sorts of labels. Yet, she seems to have forgotten, whether in her prayers or killings...
She's always been the one behind those hands.
<i><size=50>Your faith is not wrong.</size></i>
<i><size=50>It's your faith that makes you strong.</size></i>
<i><size=50>It's your contradictions that give you your gentleness.</size></i>
<i><size=50>That is why you are Bianca.</size></i>
Which makes me... Bianca.
Falling in the midst of seawater, she finds herself again.
Light and shadow play tricks, shimmering as strange illusions twist and form within the Red Tide. Countless memories—some hers, some not—steadily flood her M.I.N.D.
...
Are these Red Tide Projections... just hallucinations in my M.I.N.D.?
Images she's never seen before flicker within the Red Tide.
If we can still talk like this after this battle...
What will you say to me, seeing what I've become?
But no matter what you say...
Without missing a beat, Bianca presses on toward the commandant's location.
You would probably be pleased to see... what I've become.
Whether it's about faith or bloodshed, light or shadow...
I can play any part.
But I am always myself.
The female Construct, longsword in hand, relentlessly carves through the sealed door ahead.
I am a Holy Maiden, also a witch. I am... Bianca.
