Liv and Melinoe clear out the scattered Hetero-Creatures attacking them, gradually advancing toward the camp ahead.
Commandant...?
Liv's pace slows as disappointment washes over her. The camp is deserted, save for the remains of several Hetero-Creatures' bodies littering the perimeter of the safe zone.
The commandant and Aisling were here... They fought a battle right here...
Brushing away the dust left by the crawling creatures, Liv's brow furrows.
Her eyes lock on the ground. Dark, unmistakable stains of human blood spread in large, ominous patches.
With a deepening frown, she tries to contact the commandant again.
The dial tone echoes through the cavernous dark. It rings, and rings, and rings—met only by silence.
Did they head deeper into the mine?
Maybe...
After repeated, failed attempts to establish a connection, Liv leads Melinoe deeper into the mine.
A faint humming persists in her ears, a phantom sound she can no longer tell from the echo of the tunnels or the torment of her own M.I.N.D. migraine.
Then, as they round a corner, the busy signal cuts off abruptly. It is replaced not by a voice, but by the bloodcurdling howl of Hetero-Creatures—
Is... is that those monsters?! Are they coming for us again?!
Melinoe nervously tightens her grip on the iron bar she just picked up from the ground.
This can't continue.
Liv lowers her gaze. These troubles are not individually devastating, but their relentless frequency terrifies her.
The persistent shadow of unease clings to her thoughts. She shakes her head slightly, as if trying to physically dislodge the discomfort.
Closing her eyes, she lets her consciousness sink.
Her still-aching M.I.N.D. is a landscape of disarray; memories of the past, perceptions of the present, and simulations of the future all churn together. They are simultaneously incompatible and inextricably nested, one within the other.
...
Focusing her will, her consciousness takes flight as a white bird, soaring toward the chaotic sky.
[player name]...
Whispering that name, she beats her wings and plunges headlong into the churning storm.
Time to come home, Liv. Dinner's ready. Don't make Calliope look for you in the garden every time.
You always give me surprises, medic.
When she grows up, please tell her... Mommy and Daddy... brought her into the world...
Because... we thought this world was... as beautiful as it was turbulent...
Save that kind of speech for someone who hasn't seen her share of death. When the number of lives isn't a factor, I'll always care for those I care about.
A myriad of scenes flow like water between her wings; visions of decay and abundance withering away only to sprout anew.
Meanwhile, as you rush forward, a wave of distant pain echoes through your Mind Beacon. It feels like... Liv?
Your consciousness is a waterlogged sponge, your thoughts like damp gears turning with sluggish resistance.
Without warning, your memories spiral, directionless, until the river of time flows backward, coming to rest on the day Liv was fitted with her new frame.
It was six in the morning.
You stood before the Science Council's frame adaptation room.
The simulation dome overhead painted a false dawn. A rosy light bled across the horizon, a radiant tapestry unfurling to cloak the entire sky.
Your gaze drifted from that artificial sunrise back to the chamber. Inside, you saw Rosa, under Asimov's instructions, fine-tuning the calibration parameters for Liv's new frame.
Entering initialization parameters. Beginning virtual connection.
Connection successful. Rosa, begin logging all frame data.
OK!
The "casual chat" with Hassen had become an unspoken secret. After that conversation, Liv and Hassen had a long talk, and before she returned to the lounge, you already knew what choice she would make.
Commandant...
The young girl looked at you, an apologetic smile crossing her face.
Yes, Commandant.
Liv stood beside you.
They did. Asimov was very thorough.
I know it's not a guaranteed path. But I also know what it could make possible.
All your arguments and fears dissolved into a single, weary sigh at the sight of Liv's reassuring smile.
Whether it was a "choice" or some "new technology," why did it always have to be her? Why Liv... again?
Her slender shoulders had already borne the weight of so much. Must they now carry this, too...?
I know what you're trying to say, Commandant.
She gently takes your hand.
Do you remember that question you asked me before?
The maiden, embraced by crimson thorns, fell into that eternal night. The devoted narrator found her—a white bird, blood-soaked and still—and cradled her, gently wrapping her form within a sea of stars.
You asked me...
"If you know the future is paved with struggles and pain... will you still walk toward it?"
Your voices bled through the veil of reality, weaving into an otherworldly harmony.
No matter how many times the cycle repeats, my choice... Liv's choice will always be the same.
And you're the same, Commandant, aren't you?
Lee and Lucia... they told me a little of what you've been through.
It breaks my heart that I couldn't be there to share your burden. But it also fills me with hope, knowing that even after facing such an abyss, you never stopped trying to return to us.
You never abandon the path forward, no matter how difficult...
I'm glad this data is compatible with my new frame. If I can use it to create new possibilities, to lighten anyone's burden even a little... then it's all worth it.
If there really were a Noah's Ark, I'd want to be the white bird that brings back the first green leaf.
Even if the price of her choice was life itself, it would be a price she was willing to pay, so that someone might use that fragile hope to reach the future for which all yearned...
When the floodwaters finally receded, bitter tears would bloom into flowers, and the departed would sing songs of joy across a renewed earth.
You did not stop Liv from submitting her application. And so, the switch of her frame proceeded, step by deliberate step.
Consciousness transfer is complete. Liv, how do you feel now?
Asimov's voice snapped you back to reality. You turned your head—
Within the room, Liv's first switch of the new frame was complete.
Like a toddler taking its first steps, she pushed herself upright, a smile blooming on her face as she met your gaze.
Yo.
A familiar tap, applied with a distinctive pressure, landed on your shoulder. You turned to find the expressionless Professor Hippocrates standing behind you.
How is Liv doing? Has her new frame settled in?
M-hm.
The professor maintained an inscrutable expression, folding her arms as she watched the combat simulation with you.
Inside the chamber, the simulated Corrupted lunged. Liv's movements, first stiff and awkward, became gracefully fluid as she adapted to her new frame with startling speed.
So, you couldn't talk her out of it either.
Don't play dumb.
Hippocrates's eyebrows shot up. She turned, her expression shifting into one of pure skepticism.
That's exactly why I can't stand you reckless kids. So ready to throw yourselves into the grinder for a grand ideal.
You chant about faith and hope while charging headfirst into filth, not caring if it's a cesspool or a Red Tide abyss.
Couldn't you at least consult someone before leaping? We old folks aren't fossils yet.
Spare me the talk of new opportunities and Hassen's philosophical choice ramblings. Like I said before, when the number of lives isn't a factor, I'll always care for those I care about.
Hippocrates watched Liv through the window, her movements becoming steadily more proficient. Finally, the professor exhaled a heavy sigh, her anger spent.
...Forget it. I'm not really blaming you. It was her decision, and once her mind was set, no one could change it anyway.
"Recommend" is a pointless word now.
I was part of the preliminary research. The simulations show it can, in theory, "heal" her M.I.N.D. migraine to some extent.
But this data... Without actual testing, I can't guarantee it's completely safe.
If it were my call, I'd rather she live with her migraine as a regular Construct than gamble her life on the front lines for a shred of "hope."
I don't want her to take this risk.
Everything she's sacrificed for Babylonia... in the Golden Age, it would have earned her a chest full of medals and a peaceful retirement.
Hippocrates furrowed her brow.
She always sees herself as the sacrifice, with no thought for her own safety. I can save her once, twice... but I can't be everywhere.
Hah.
She let out a dismissive, distrustful snort.
...
Whatever obstacles lie ahead, whatever path you must take, you will not give up. You will bring Liv back.
The professor silently rolled her eyes at you.
Of course you wouldn't. I'm just worried you'll be the one leading the charge and jump into the Red Tide right beside her. Don't think for a second my earlier lecture was only for her benefit.
You kids, I swear...
Liv, having completed her preliminary combat tests in the frame adaptation room, walked toward you.
Alright, go talk to her. She just finished her frame switch. I'm sure seeing you will make her happy.
Hippocrates shook her head in resignation and turned to walk away.
Commandant... you're here. Was that Professor Hippocrates just now? Why did she leave?
Commandant...
In the mining tunnel, Liv delves deep into her M.I.N.D., sifting through memory fragments for any trace of the commandant.
...Commandant.
The resulting pain is sharp, but she refuses to retreat. Instead, she leans into the agony, using its disruptive turbulence to shred the clouds and grasp for the fraying threads of their connection.
I will... find you.
