Ravens sweep overhead, gazing down at the carnage, where the air is thick with flesh and blood.
Amidst the grand symphony of gunfire, scattered piano notes dance through the chaos.
I did what you asked! I brought all the food! You can't—
Bang.
Have you seen Cleveland?! He's my son! He's my son! Let—
Bang.
Dead.
All dead.
Bloody severed limbs drip with warm brain matter. Countless corpses cling to each other as they tumble down, piling together and left to rot in the scorching air.
Aim for the heart! If a Living Dead starts crawling out of there, I'll throw you all down there with them!
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Despair and anguish overwhelm the mass grave below. The murderers stand upon the city walls, elegantly enjoying the symphony.
Huff...
The performer in a black armband pours decades of practice into every note, pushing his skill to its peak. Cold sweat rains onto the piano keys, yet he doesn't dare pause for a second.
This piece sounds familiar. Is it Mozart?
No way, it's definitely Zimerman.
It's... It's Morricone.
Oh?
Bang.
The musician's head crashes down. Crimson flowers of death bloom across the piano keys, marking the final note in the most grotesque performance of their life.
All done for the day.
Wait, Chief, we've got a situation... Over there—
The officer takes the binoculars. A dreamcatcher hanging on the scope sways gently in the hot wind.
Several hundred meters away, through the swirling sand, a lone rider slowly moves toward them.
Through the distorting heat waves, the officer can just make out another figure bound to the dark red horse's back.
Oh? A bounty hunter is here to collect his prize. Open the gate.
Understood. Open the sentry gate—!
After several loud shouts, the hinges emit a dull rumble. Under the watchful eyes of dozens of soldiers on the walls, the narrow gate, barely wide enough for a single horse, slowly rises.
With a thunderous clang, the sentry gate swings fully open. In eerie silence, a lone human strolls into the mountain of corpses and sea of blood before the fortress.
The soldiers on the walls can finally see the bounty hunter's face when the wanted criminal tied to the horse suddenly starts cursing.
I can't believe this! I trusted you... you... traitor!
Well, well, look at them fight. I love where this is going.
Hey, you! What's the name of the guy you caught? Show me the wanted poster!
[player name] dismounts with practiced ease, then yanks the rope, throwing the criminal from the horse onto the ground.
You... you'll pay for this!
Before the criminal can curse any more, you grab him by the head and lift his entire body off the ground.
—Tch!
...**** me.
The officer standing in the distance shivers at the sight of the wanted criminal's face.
You wave your arm, flutter your cloak, pull a linen scroll from your belt, and open it for everyone to see.
Your powerful voice echoes through the fortress, leaving every soldier on the walls frozen in shock and fear.
That severed arm... There's no mistake. It's definitely him...
Watanabe's face is pale and rigid, and his breathing labored. Fresh blood continues to seep from the severed stump of his left arm, soaking the bandages in crimson.
You greedily break the silence.
Hah! You want to see the generalissimo of the Iron Army? Who do you think you are?
Whatever you got out of him, we can find out ourselves.
You press the gun barrel against Watanabe's back, slowly forcing him forward.
A kill order poster slips from your hands and is swept away like a withered leaf in the west wind. It flies past the city gate and drifts into the officer's sight.
...
...Boss, what do you mean?
You go confiscate Commandant's weapons first. I'm going to inform the Generalissimo.
And that... wanted criminal! Keep a close eye on him. Use the Demon Shackles, throw him in the dungeon, and wait for the Generalissimo's orders!
...
The first thing that comes into view upon entering the fortress is a towering main keep that rises into the clouds.
The dark-red stone structure resembles a waterfall, cascading from sky to earth. Under the blazing sun, it looks like a molten steel spear plunged into the throat of the earth.
As you walk along the winding stone path, the tower's peak seems to cast an eerie, imposing gaze, no matter which way you look.
You follow the officer through countless sealed passages and checkpoints before entering the main keep, or the heart of the Iron Army.
After climbing a spiral staircase four floors up, you arrive outside a windowed room deep within the fortress.
Reporting in, Generalissimo!
The once domineering officer now looks nervous. He takes a deep breath and stands rigidly at attention, giving a formal salute to the wooden door.
The bounty hunter who has captured the rebel leader Watanabe is here!
Come in.
Yes, sir!
The officer carefully opens the door and sunlight from inside the room immediately floods over him. He stops by the doorway, his sharp gaze urging you to enter.
Sunlight streams through the window lattice, illuminating the spotless room.
The rustic yet elegant decor, vibrant paintings, and meticulously trimmed plants... Everything shows the simple yet refined aesthetic of the era before the Cataclysm.
At the far end of the room stands a tall figure.
...
He lifts his face. His gaze is like a venomous arrow, piercing deep and locking onto your eyes.
You captured the rebel leader Watanabe, and you've also obtained important intelligence related to "Gray Raven."
The instant your eyes meet, a trace of complex emotion seems to flicker through the depths of each other's eyes.
Where are you from?
Surprisingly, he doesn't ask for details about "Gray Raven," but instead asks about you.
The officer behind you eyes you suspiciously, while gripping their firearm tightly. At this point, you might as well try to bluff your way through.
...Name?
Hah.
In the darkness, the cylinder suddenly starts spinning.
He suddenly raises his hand and points the gun barrel at himself.
Enough with the little games, [player name].
Suddenly, a loud buzzing fills your ears as a mysterious force clamps down on your thoughts.
Scorching agony surges through every inch of bone and skin, gradually devouring his consciousness.
Amid the sounds of flesh tearing and ripping open, countless glittering tentacles slowly appear behind him.
Ggh, gah...
Under Death of Iron's crushing aura, even the officers behind him freeze in fear, their weapons slipping from their hands.
I could never forget your voice, much less your face.
[player name] died thirty years ago.
Click—Death of Iron pulls the trigger.
...But you look... You look just as young as you were thirty years ago. How is that possible?
I sense no power of the Sanctuary within you, but the dream nets didn't react, either.
You... what exactly are you?
Iron chains drag across the stone floor, producing a screech that echoes through the dim, stinking dungeon.
Watanabe is bound head to toe by Demon Shackles. He shuffles forward slowly under the watchful eye of the guards.
The lead soldier raises a flickering oil lamp, its dim light revealing emaciated skulls in every cell, all staring in their direction.
They were once the elite soldiers who carried the Iron Army, and all were Gyrfalcon's most capable and trusted generals.
...
Watanabe recognizes every one of them.
Watanabe? Is that you? Watanabe!
So the rumors were true. You're still alive, but...
...Wata... nabe?
The old soldier grips the prison bars so tightly his fingernails nearly break, watching in disbelief as their last hope flickers before his eyes, then falls into the same abyss of imprisonment.
Tch, ahahaha...!
Watching Watanabe silently walk away, the veteran's body slowly slides down, slumping onto the muddy, rotting ground as he breaks into maniacal laughter.
**** your Supreme Heaven! **** your Sanctuary!
This world really is beyond salvation...
Waves of mournful cries echo once more through the gloomy prison.
This cell. Get in there.
Watanabe is brutally shoved into the prison cell.
The cell door slams shut with a loud clang and locks tight. The guards' footsteps fade, leaving behind only a foul, heavy silence.
...
After a while, Watanabe slowly lifts his head.
Here it comes.
He looks toward the only light source nearby. It's a narrow skylight at the deepest part of the corridor.
Suddenly, a shadow slips into the cell as a raven's cry echoes outside the window.
Shit, they almost got me. Good thing I'm smarter, phew!
The magical pet squeezes through the narrow bars into the dungeon, muttering.
Cough—cough—ahem!
Morigan solemnly clears its throat, as if about to announce something important.
My shift's over. It's all yours now, Nirvatia!
SWOOSH—
The raven's body suddenly swells and bursts open, sending gray feathers flying everywhere before drifting down like falling petals.
High heels tap lightly against the ground as an alluring figure silently descends, standing elegantly in the light like a dahlia blooming amidst murky rain.
...Everyone, greetings.
I come under Gray Raven's orders to rescue you all and help you escape, so you may return to Gray Raven's side.
The crowd in the dungeon bursts into hopeful shouts after witnessing the miracle happening before them.
At that very moment, thousands of dream nets across the fortress erupt in violent tremors, ringing out like heavy rain pounding and washing over the land.
Demon!!!
Hearing the commotion, the guards grab their weapons and come rushing back to the dungeon.
F-fall in—!
Nirvatia's expression remains cold and aloof as she steps forward with graceful elegance, slowly approaching the panicked enemies.
Her fingers move gently, sending out graceful waves of purple light, like sudden flashes of lightning.
With each footstep, the muddy ground turns into soft purple plains, while chilling waves of energy surge like ocean tides. The crisp click of her heels echoes as relentless attacks tear through the enemy's defenses.
I walk through the realm of the living, weave the victory songs of heroes, and carve the laments of the dead.
I am the <phonetic=Dirige>"Raven of Death,"</phonetic> perched among the branches, weighing the value of your existence.
—Take aim!!!
Listen to the war drums thunder in the Hall of a Thousand Demons, as <phonetic=Death Lord>Nyarlathotep's</phonetic> requiem begins to play.
Now, I hereby order you all—
<phonetic=Qualis vita，et mors ita>"Oblivion's Obituary"</phonetic>.
Open the—
A cold gleam flashes past, piercing through solid rock with a sharp, ringing crack.
The scythe's blade, filled with deadly intent, shatters time and light, tearing open a rift that rushes toward death.
Then the enemies collapse like puppets with cut strings, dropping to their knees together as their breath stops.
No pain, no transformation of the corpse—only gentle and peaceful death.
At the same time, the bars of the prison cell snap like dry wheat stalks, clattering as they slide to the ground.
Meanwhile, the prisoners in their cells are completely unharmed.
Streams, however broken, all converge in the ocean. May we encounter each other under better circumstances in the next lifetime.
The mission Gray Raven entrusted to me is complete. Everyone, please allow me to take my leave.
Nirvatia elegantly curtsies and lifts her skirt in a graceful bow. Her massive scythe seems to dissolve like foam with her gentle, refined movements.
She turns around gracefully, and her fluttering dress suddenly transforms into black feathers that rise and gradually fade in color before vanishing.
After Nirvatia's departure, the dungeon once again falls into silent darkness.
Meanwhile, someone has already taken her place, standing once again in the light at the end of the dark prison.
Soldiers of the Iron Army, I am Watanabe, son of Gyrfalcon.
Chains shatter as steel reorganizes his flesh, reshaping his body within a crimson storm.
The Sanctuary controlled "Death of Iron" to kill my father, and turned the Army's guns on you and on the innocent people of this land.
Through endless days and nights of despair, the flames of hatred must have grown in your hearts, just as they have in mine.
Now, I will grant you immortal power, so that you may join me in destroying the traitors' ambitions and follow Gray Raven's banner in rebellion!
Radiant light solidifies and takes shape, forming countless blood-red muskets that fly in perfect formation toward every prison cell under Watanabe's command.
The Sanctuary may manipulate our minds, but they cannot trap our free souls.
Since our oppressors have lit the fuse of war, we'll add fuel to the fire and give them the war they wished for!
Everyone picks up the muskets. Their eyes are fixed on the generalissimo as they listen intently to his rallying speech.
This war shall overthrow the tyranny!
We cannot let our children and grandchildren live in a world like this...
The enslaved take up their weapons.
This is a war to reclaim freedom!
I'll make those scum... those traitors pay! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth!
The victims take up their weapons.
The dungeon's in revolt! Bring out the blood bullets for the Demons and the heavy weapons!
Everyone at the back, keep up! Move!!
A war will cleanse the world and let it be reborn!
The bloodthirsty hunters eager for revenge shed their disguise, showing their bloody fangs to their enemies.
Let us become the fuse that destroys the lofty Sanctuary, breaks through eternal daylight, and brings night back to tomorrow's earth!
Watanabe! Watanabe! Watanabe! Gray Raven! Gray Raven! Gray Raven!
Amid the people's chanting, the leaders also take up their weapons.
Comrades, to the barricades! Prepare for battle!!
