"Groooaah! Oh no! This fire is seriously raging! It's raging so hard! It's seven times hotter than normal fire! If you get burned by this, you'll suffer seven times as much and die!"
A towering wall of white flames stands before me! This fire is some nonsensical nonsense that won't burn you even if you touch it—it only dishes out the heat—so to put it bluntly, if you can just tough out the warmth, there's nothing stopping you from breaking through. It's nothing but a flashy bluff!
So, to keep the crowds from realizing the truth and to prevent them from swarming in while they're terrified, I've been desperately pretending to writhe in agony as if the fire has engulfed me, while going around to every single one of the four waterways and desperately pleading with everyone about the dangers of the flames!
Well, even though these people are barely hanging on to their sanity, they seem to still have their primal instincts intact when it comes to fire being dangerous, so my desperate pantomime might not be completely useless—but it's not like it's doing all that much either!
"Lady Priscilla says things like 'sing and dance and charm them' like it's no big deal, but honestly..."
The thing is, if I start singing with an attitude of "I'm gonna charm the hell outta you, woohoo!" that's already completely corrupt from the get-go, and it goes against the very philosophy of song altogether!
If you sing your heart out and something naturally reaches the listener's heart, that's just the natural order of things. And if someone happens to be moved by that natural order and tips you a little something, then we're all happy in this kind, gentle world!
But if you start with the tip in mind from the beginning, then sure enough your ulterior motives get baked into the song. And a song laden with ulterior motives is not what I want at all.
So this plan has been doomed from the very start!
"If I think back, despite having a short life, I've been allowed to live days filled with ups and downs. Dear mother, dear father—when I was thrown out at thirteen, told 'this too is part of your education, go be independent,' and cast into the harsh waves of the world, I did hold some grudges, but now I feel nothing but gratitude for having brought me into this world. I was a terribly unfilful daughter, but my daily routine of gratitude and righteous indignation toward you two never—gyah! GYAAAAH! Hot, hot, hot, eternal summer!"
While I was composing my heartfelt message of gratitude to my parents and everything else, I sensed a presence from beyond the fire wall that looked like it might come this way, so I resumed my searing-hot performance! Please read the room!
But still, this gripping act of mine is going to be exposed before long. And once it is, there's no way to rein in Lady Priscilla's famously short fuse.
It's hopeless! It's over!
"Oh my, oh my. Do you even have the composure to watch? That girl you've pinned your hopes on—she has such a desolate look on her face. The grief and futility consuming her heart—you can practically feel it. She's whimpering, writhing in pain. Don't you feel sorry for her?"
"Not in the slightest."
While I hold my head in my hands and start counting down the seconds until it's all over, the fierce clash and dialogue between Lady Priscilla and the Sin Archbishop of Wrath, Sirius, continues in the middle of the square surrounded by blazing waterways.
That said, the "dialogue" is pretty much a given pattern—Sirius talks in her measured, reasonable tone, and Lady Priscilla cuts her off without so much as listening. And while Sirius's manner of speaking might be calm, the sight of her swinging those iron chains on both arms is anything but peaceful.
The iron chains slice through the wind and sweep through the air, their trajectories shifting freely as they fly! Lashing out, leaping about, the iron serpents strike from every direction at Lady Priscilla!
The chains extend and retract with a clattering cacophony so loud it's almost noise pollution. In my eyes, the gaps are so nonexistent it looks like Lady Priscilla has been imprisoned in a cage of chains.
The stone pavement struck directly by the chains is grotesquely shattered, gouged, and scoured away—a testament to their devastating power. If even a single one grazed bare skin, you'd end up looking like a snake had gone to town with its fangs and tongue! For someone with skin as white and beautiful as Lady Priscilla's, the cruelty would be all the more stark!
And yet, despite all that, Lady Priscilla faces this onslaught of iron chains with— "Loud, vulgar noise. The shameless haphazard flailing of a weapon without a shred of taste. Not a trace of aesthetic sensibility in that crude tool. The whining grating to the ear. My, my—to think you could prepare so many things that rub me the wrong way all at once. I must say, I'm almost impressed by the sheer impudence."
"Lady Priscilla, you're so freakin' amaaaazing!!"
In every direction, the chains come hurtling in wild, indiscriminate barrages, yet Lady Priscilla deflects them all while looking bored, swinging her shining sword to meet each one. Front, side, top, bottom—sure, I get those—but she's not even looking behind her, so how the hell is she parrying those?! Really!
And I don't know if it's some special property of the shining sword, but every time the chains are deflected, the point of contact turns white-hot. The heat is insane, and the chains are being burned through in an instant, getting shorter and shorter! If she keeps this up, they'll run out of chain for sure!
"Hey hey heeey! Lady Priscilla, just like that, keep doing it—don't let up!"
"Look there. That is what one looks like when one forgets to put on a composed front. To bare oneself so thoroughly would be difficult for anyone else, but it's far more pleasant than having to deal with tedious little arguments. Well—I think there only needs to be one such person in this world."
"Huh!? You just praised me, right!? That was a compliment, wasn't it!? I'm gonna be happy about it!? All right, yesss, hooray!"
It's too late now—even if you tell me it wasn't a compliment, I'm already overjoyed!
Buoyed by my encouragement, Lady Priscilla's momentum grows even stronger. She advances steadily, cutting through the chains with a clang. Even the Sin Archbishop of Wrath, Sirius herself, can't help but be overwhelmed by that intimidation, and at this rate she'll just be waiting to be diced up! Like a sweet potato on a chopping board!
"Hey—Lady Priscilla, you can't just go ZOOMBASH into her! If you do that, we'll all go ZOOMBASH too, right!?"
"Oh—so it would seem. I got too carried away."
That was close! If I hadn't stopped her just now, she would've gone charging right in!
Sirius, forced backward, uses the opening of Lady Priscilla's halted step to leap a great distance back. Actually, Lady Priscilla's inhuman abilities aside, is it really possible for someone who can fight on equal footing with her to move like that? Seriously, can humans actually move like that?
"I've poured out so many words, yet you refuse to open your heart even a little. How rare. What on earth could have sealed your heart so tightly?"
At a distance now, Sirius gazes down at her own arms and speaks. The chains have been shortened considerably, but when the Sin Archbishop lightly rotates her arms, they snap back to full length with a clatter. They seem to still be wound tightly around her arms—doesn't that cause blood congestion or something?
"Everyone has gaps in their heart, no matter how small. As long as you're alive, you have emotions, and through those emotions, whatever color they may be, everyone has something that peers out. Even that fortress you insist on maintaining—once you lay it bare, it's sure to be something that can be understood."
"————"
"You too have a heart that grieves, emotions that waver. Not showing weakness is one condition of being strong, but... that is a realm one can only reach alone. There are limits to what a person can accomplish alone. It is only by connecting with others that certain summits become visible. To see that place in others, what is needed is empathy—understanding one another."
As Lady Priscilla falls silent, Sirius sways her body and speaks to her.
Her voice is the kind that seeps into your heart. Her manner is warm and sympathetic. Her gestures gently unravel the wariness of others. And the content of her words is the kind that lures you in like a demon.
It's like a sweet poison that dissolves you slowly, and even my hands and feet are going numb.
"Would you allow me to help you understand others? The real you is full of love—you love this world. You wish to be loved. I can see that. I want others besides myself to see it too. So that you will never have to spend another lonely night by yourself."
"My my, how you prattle on—spouting delusions and conjectures without the slightest shame. If you truly have no doubts about your own words, then you are the mad one."
"Well, thank you. That is a title befitting my husband. The rantings of those who cannot grasp even a sliver of his magnificence, consumed by envy and jealousy."
"You're impossible. What is mine is mine. Your fabricated fairy tale is nothing but delusion itself. I won't even let you skim the dregs of who I am."
Lady Priscilla brushes aside the sweet, numbing suggestions with the sheer force of her ego. But Sirius is no less formidable in that regard. As if she had anticipated Lady Priscilla's rebuttal, the Sin Archbishop tilts her head and says— "I won't even let you skim the dregs, you say. How stubborn can one be... Very well, then—how about something like this? 'Iris and the Thorn King'?"
"————"
"Or perhaps 'The Rose Knight of Tireos'? 'The Guillotine of Magritza'?"
The words Sirius uttered—each title, its meaning, I have no idea. What purpose the Sin Archbishop had in saying them, what her aim was—I can't say.
But their effect was immediate.
"—Perish."
The moment those whispered words left her lips, Lady Priscilla vanished from sight.
By the time I thought "huh?", the distance between Lady Priscilla and Sirius had been reduced to zero. Lady Priscilla had raised her shining sword overhead, and the arc of its trajectory was ruthlessly aimed at Sirius's neck. The world slowed so drastically that even I could see the flow of Lady Priscilla's blade.
All it would take was a single trace along that path, and Sirius's slender neck would be neatly severed.
And if that happened, my neck would fly off too. So would the necks of everyone else here.
Maybe that's why it seemed slow—because I knew it. You know how when your life is on the line, humans get this incredible surge of concentration and the world seems to move in slow motion? It was like that.
But if that was the case, what could I or any of the others have done while our lives were being weighed against someone else's?
And so the red radiance of the shining sword flowed along its prescribed path through the air— "—Huh?"
My brain couldn't keep up with the scene before me, and all that escaped was a dopey sound.
The neck that let out that sound is still sitting right on top of my little torso. Of course it is. My neck wasn't cut off. Neither was Sirius's.
Instead, it was Lady Priscilla's body—whose charge should have carried her straight into Sirius—that went flying backward.
She had been hit head-on by Sirius's iron chain counterattack, and her body was sent hurtling back in a precarious posture.
"Lady Priscilla!?"
Her posture was so clearly not from her own volition that a scream tore from my throat.
There wasn't even room for calculations like "if Lady Priscilla goes down, we're screwed"—it was the pure, visceral cry of someone who genuinely felt that things had just gone very, very wrong. But Lady Priscilla spun backward in midair, drove her shining sword into the stone pavement, and stopped her momentum.
"Don't make a fuss. It wasn't a direct hit."
She answered my scream with that, and Lady Priscilla landed with the heavy click of her boots. But the change came immediately after—a change to her necklace. The accessory set with three green gemstones—one of the gems suddenly shattered.
It was as though it had taken the blow meant for Lady Priscilla.
"...My necklace's counterattack won't come cheap."
"I see. You have something you value take your wounds for you. How terribly 'Prideful' of you... no, no, of course, of course."
"Base suspicion. The height of slander. Such disrespect piled so high that ten thousand deaths could not atone. Your end shall be an eternal burning—even when scorched, the flames will never die."
Sirius's composure refuses to break, and Lady Priscilla is seething with rage. The radiance of the sword in her hand grows brighter—or rather, the heat is increasing? Lady Priscilla's form is wavering even from my position, shimmering like the air on a scorching day.
Looking at that, it's hard to imagine Lady Priscilla losing—but there was that inexplicable phenomenon just now.
That Sin Archbishop Sirius had taunted Lady Priscilla with those strange, incomprehensible words, and Lady Priscilla had taken the bait and charged in headfirst—and that was precisely why Sirius had been able to meet her with a frontal counter.
Well—it's just my amateur opinion, and to me it looked like Lady Priscilla moved fast enough to almost disappear, but maybe Sirius saw it differently and I can't exactly rule that out. Still, that can't be the whole story.
Because the moment the shining sword was about to strike, Lady Priscilla's movement stopped.
I could say "it seemed like she stopped"—that thing about concentration again—but in a different way, more clearly, it was like she completely, fully stopped.
It was such an unnatural posture to halt in. It couldn't have been Lady Priscilla's own will, and it's not something a human could do intentionally. Which means some incomprehensible kind of force must have been at work during that pause.
"Don't get so worked up. You always seem to be angry about something—doesn't that get exhausting? Doesn't your heart just dry up? 'Wrath' is the most abhorred emotional pit in all the world. A human heart is defined by emotion... in that case, it should always be filled with joy, with delight."
"E-even considering your theory, the people outside don't look all that happy, huh—huh—huh—"
"Oh my?"
Huh!? Did that come out louder than I meant!?
Sirius turns her gaze on me, her bulging eyes visible through the gaps in her bandages, locking on tight. Ughhh, no—I poked the snake nest AND gave it a swirly!
"Yes, the hearts of all those outside are now dominated by sorrow and despair. This too is tragic, but it is the result of hearts brimming with compassion and love for others."
Wh-what did she just say!?
"Under the influence of my Authority, people open their hearts and communicate on a soul-to-soul level. In doing so, they come to share even the emotions they could not put into words. Humans are noble beings capable of empathy. When they witness another's grief and suffering, their own hearts feel that sorrow, and when yet others see that sorrow, new grief blooms in their hearts. As this cycle repeats, tears of sorrow become a pond, then a lake, then a great river."
She just said something incredible, this person.
In other words, the more people gather around her, the more extreme the emotional amplification becomes—and that's bad news. What happened to everyone in the city going berserk or breaking down crying all at once was because of this mechanism... but it's not just about destabilizing emotions.
And she calls this "understanding each other," this woman says.
"If you feel such pity for them, then you yourself should take the lead in saving these wretches. Simply lamenting without doing anything amounts to nothing more than irritating preaching to the masses."
"Yes, I understand those words. I too am being overwhelmed by my own helplessness. But right now, I have a way to save everyone drowning in sorrow!"
With a voice brimming with confidence, as if she'd had a brilliant idea, Sirius clapped her hands together.
The Sin Archbishop's brilliant plan showed absolutely no sign of turning things around, but neither Lady Priscilla nor I interjected. I don't know what Lady Priscilla was thinking, but my own mind was in turmoil.
The indescribable emotion swirling in my chest—it's burning hot.
"The way to save everyone drowning in sorrow right now... is to wash away their grief with happiness, with joyful emotions. In other words—the source of salvation must be me becoming happy!"
"————"
"Imagine, imagine—in this very city, my husband, from whom I was once temporarily separated, awaits! To confirm and reclaim my love with him, with that man! A harmonious marriage is the very symbol of happiness! If I am here, swelling with that joy, then all who are lost in despair can be saved! By sharing happiness, everyone's hearts will be saved!"
Sirius was saying something, Lady Priscilla was wearing a deadpan expression, and while watching all of this, I was doing plenty of thinking of my own.
This time around, I know full well that I can't afford to escape reality and wander around looking blissfully oblivious. More than that—I've realized it, once and for all, that the Sin Archbishop Sirius Romanee-Conti is, without exception, our enemy.
"————"
I raise my head and survey the blazing waterways on all four sides. Beyond the white fire walls, the shadows of people who cannot cross the waterways are stuck in place. Every single one of them is being whipped around by emotions they never wanted, robbed of their sense of self.
Like the walking dead—yet I can hear their voices.
My ears are special, after all. As a wandering bard, voice and hearing are the only things I can boast about. And their voices—those voices echo through me, over and over, ceaselessly.
— Scary, sad, help me, it hurts, why, why, I don't want this.
As if resentment were swirling, as if a dirge would never end—I can hear them.
Would they call this the result of "understanding" each other? That they've become one? Unity isn't supposed to look like this.
—I have to set them free...
Becoming one doesn't mean everything gets mashed together into the same thing.
Men, women, adults, children, babies, the elderly, humans, demi-humans—so many, so many different people.
You shove all of them into one place, churn them up into a mess, and say "Now everyone understands each other and has become one!"? Give me a break!
This is no joke! It's really no joke!
"You have no need to become happy. Drop that nauseating little act and go die alone."
"I won't. Let's stop using loneliness and the inability to understand each other as a comfort blanket. If you're someone who doesn't know what happiness looks like, why not see mine? Or perhaps if you knew the joy of being united with your beloved, you could come to understand the happiness of becoming a bride."
"How unfortunate—I have already walked that aisle seven times. Not a single one was anything close to happiness. Don't try to measure me with your petty rulers. I'm disgusted."
"Seven times... huh..."
Lady Priscilla dismisses it as nonsense, talks over Sirius's words, and brings her shining sword crashing down. But Sirius meets it head-on with a furious barrage of iron chains. Sparks fly violently, severed chains go flying, and the shock sends both their bodies hurtling across the square.
Severed chains. White flames that burn without burning. Voices that never reach anyone. People wailing in grief.
Inside me, little by little, the pieces are clicking into place. Is it possible?
If my imagination is right, if it checks out, there's no reason it can't be done.
"I'm taking all this time just to become truly united with my one and only person... and you had seven chances, every single one of which you threw away."
"Don't blame your own lack of charm on me. At that rate, the poor man you claim to be in love with probably doesn't even look your way—"
"That man and I are deeply united, in love with each other—!!"
A shudder, an involuntary jolt of fury.
Immediately after, what bisects the square is a serpent of fire, blazing and swelling to enormous size! The moment Lady Priscilla met Sirius's iron chains with her sword, fire surged from Sirius's arms, racing along the links, and a cataclysmic inferno swallowed Lady Priscilla whole.
The fire serpent opened its jaws and sank its teeth headfirst into Lady Priscilla's slender body. Devoured by that overwhelming heat, she was hurled from the now-cleared square. She nearly toppled sideways but caught herself on her sword at the last second—a testament to her pride. But having been bathed in that fire, surely Lady Priscilla must have been— She was fine. Not a scratch.
But with a crack, another gemstone on her necklace shattered. Two gems simultaneously, the setting split with a snapping sound, and the pieces fell to the ground.
"That man and I love each other deeply! That earnest, devoted man—he only hasn't been able to bring himself to end it because he's the one who started it! And there are too many harlots who mistake his sincerity for innocent love! Ah! Ahhh! How irritating!"
Having survived by sacrificing her necklace once again, Lady Priscilla faces a transformed Sirius. The Sin Archbishop bares her teeth and opens her mouth wide, unleashing a violent, filthy tirade. And on both her arms, crimson flames were swirling.
"Why do you people insist on shaking my heart so recklessly!? The violent emotion that makes a heart tremble—that is 'Wrath,' that is passion! Trembling becomes heat, and heat sears the sinner along with their guilt! Do you want that to happen to you too, you self-righteous—?!"
"With what mouth, with what eyes, do you dare spout such words...!"
Burning with hatred for the very 'Wrath' she embodies, Sirius raises her arms overhead, and a vortex of flames materializes above her. Earlier it had been two thin serpents of flame, one from each arm—a pair of fire snakes aimed at her slender neck. Now, as her arms cross, they merge into a single colossal fire serpent.
Her arms slash downward in a straight line, and the gargantuan fire serpent scorches the stone pavement as it hurtles toward Lady Priscilla. Lady Priscilla takes the stance not to dodge but to receive it.
She thrusts the shining sword upward from below, and the tip of the blade smashes into the snake's head—far too large a thing to be called a snake anymore. A sound that has nothing to do with sword against chain rings out, and the fire serpent's aim goes wildly off course!
But Lady Priscilla is sent flying by the impact too, and pursuit is impossible!
When Sirius flies into a rage and the fire serpents go on the rampage, the balance of offense and defense reverses dramatically. Lady Priscilla is driven onto the defensive, her darting figure pursued by iron chains and flames alike.
Why? How? Well, of course I can see that Sirius's strength is no joke, but considering Lady Priscilla's dominance in the early stages, I can't exactly say she's been outclassed. The shining sword being inefficient—that was a story for daytime. Could its bill finally be coming due?
Or—could it possibly be— Lady Priscilla isn't lacking in offensive options— "Me!?"
ZOOMBASH—forget me, everyone around me gets ZOOMBASHED too!
Is she—buying time for me so that doesn't happen!? No way—Lady Priscilla, that arrogant, self-centered Priscilla, would do something like that!?
『You, prepare yourself to sing. — When a shadow falls upon the shining sword's radiance, I will cut that vulgar creature's head off no matter what. Before that happens.』
At that moment, a jolt of lightning ran through my mind.
Right before this fight truly began, Lady Priscilla said that to me. She said it.
Before the shining sword reaches its limit, I was told to prepare to sing. And when that time comes, she said she'd mercilessly ZOOMBASH Sirius's head off, and you'd all be ZOOMBASHED too.
But that meant—until that time came—she'd be waiting, not ZOOMBASHing. It meant there was a far deeper meaning than I had realized.
If that was the case, then Lady Priscilla was waiting. Waiting for me to be ready to sing.
At the very least—until the moment she could take responsibility for her own words.
"Grrgh! Mmmmm! Mmmmm!!"
So annoying! She's so annoying! If you love him, just say you love him! She definitely loves him. No—she'd told me she had a fondness for me. She did tell me properly. Ah, damn it—geez, I'm scared, it can't be helped!
"Lady Priscilla—!!"
If she really was fighting with that same troublesome thought in mind, as I suspected, then she'd understand immediately what I was thinking. I point my finger at the stone tower—the one being consumed by Sirius's flames.
Lady Priscilla, who had turned only her gaze toward my voice, sees where I'm pointing— "—Oh."
With that terrifying face and those terrifying eyes, but with an expression that was frighteningly dependable—she smirked.
With such wickedness that you couldn't even tell who the Sin Archbishop was anymore!
"Stop looking away!!"
"Handling you is a mere trifle. Don't presume to tell me how to conduct myself."
She deflects the incoming chain with the flat of her blade while leaping backward. Lady Priscilla's body gains speed, and with a single jump that should be impossible, she lands right beside the stone tower. Looking up at the blazing control tower, she plunges the tip of the shining sword into its base— "What an ugly conflagration. A truly beautiful flame burns thus."
The difference in beauty between flames—us amateurs can't really tell.
Can't tell, but even to my amateur eye, there's no mistaking it—a fire entirely different from the one before erupts and engulfs the stone tower, the control tower, in an instant!
Rising, wavering white flames—identical to those burning on the waterways.
Sirius's chains create fire serpents that blazed with a fierce, blazing heat of their own, but the fire born from the shining sword had a sacred quality that made you hesitate to touch it.
Well—I touched it and it hurt like hell, so I can't exactly say it can't be touched, but— "The stage is set. — Give it your all, then."
"Roger that—loud and clear!"
A final flourish of flame engulfing the control tower was Lady Priscilla's parting word. I threw back a grand response of my own and sprinted at full speed toward the control tower.
Watching us from across the square, Sirius was seething with enough fury to start a war just over a pair of chopsticks falling over, and she was pointing both hands our way!
"What right do you have to interfere with the flame of love I kindled for that man!?"
"I think it's time to stop saying things like 'burning an entire house down counts as a courtship display'—that's something an old-fashioned, out-of-touch lord would say!"
I said it! I said it! Wohoo!
As I spoke over my shoulder while running, I could feel Sirius's windmill-swing chain crashing down behind me! Burning chain! Heat wave! Heat wave!
If it hits, my head would be vaporized before I even had a chance to burn, but I'm sprinting too hard to care about what's behind me! You know why!
"Before that one does something foolish, I'll do my part to see it through."
"Tch—!"
In my place, Lady Priscilla lands right where the chain was about to fall. The shining sword sweeps across overhead, mowing down the raining tongues of fire!
Behind me, the sounds of Lady Priscilla and Sirius's chaotic battle continue without pause, but I've finally reached my destination—the burning control tower.
"Hah... hah...!"
It wasn't that far, but I'm out of breath, and my body feels like lead! Honestly, I want to drink some cold water and flop onto a bed right this second. It's unbecoming of a wandering bard, but I've gotten too used to the pampered life—now I can't stand anything that isn't a soft bed!
"Oh, honestly... this is all Kirika's fault, and everyone's fault too!"
They're the ones who kept me in this city, spoiled me with ridiculous hospitality. Everyone from the 'White Dragon Scale' was fawning over me too, and Kirika was hitting on me with an almost scary level of intensity—and because of all that, because of staying in this city, my wandering bard constitution has completely gone soft!
So right here and now, let me—remember what it means to push your body to its limits!!
"Gy—aaahh!!!"
Steel myself, clench my teeth, and clutching Lyuriel to my chest, I hurl myself into the blazing control tower! Hot, hot, hot, so hoooot!
"—Guh, nnk—"
The searing heat beyond my expectations sends an immense shock through every fiber of my being.
And yet—and yet—despite feeling that insane heat wave, not a single thing is scorched. Not my skin, not my hair, not Lyuriel. I can feel the heat, but nothing is burning.
When I touched the white flames rising from the waterways, there was pain but no burning. So I thought—maybe the shining sword's flames were just a bluff.
But I was wrong, wrong.
The shining sword Lady Priscilla wielded had burned through Sirius's chains. The same fire, yet some things burn and some things don't.
Lady Priscilla's fire chooses what to burn. If that's the case, then it must also be able to choose what not to burn.
"——!!"
So—! The white flames engulfing this control tower will not burn me right now!
It's hot enough to kill, painful enough to make me want to die, and I want to roll around on the ground right this instant from the pain—but I'm not burning, not being consumed, not dying!
My eyes will melt, my tongue will shrivel, my hair will catch fire, my skin will blister, Lyuriel will burn, my bones will crack, my flesh will char, my consciousness will blow away—ALL OF IT IS AN ILLUSION—!
It's not hot, it's hot, it's hot, it's hot, it's not hot, it's not hot, it's hot, I'm dying, I don't want to die, it's hot, it's not hot, it's hot it's hot it's hot it's hot but I'm still goiiiiiing!
I race up through the control tower—one floor, two floors—how many stories is this thing!? Where's the rooftop!? How far up do the flames go, how far does the fire reach—looking right, looking left, white flames everywhere, it's hot, it's hot, why am I pushing myself through all of this, it's hot, desperately pushing through the heat, and I— "————!!"
I want to scream at the top of my lungs, want to shriek until my throat tears apart.
Absolutely not—if I let out that scream, my throat will be shredded in an instant. I cannot sacrifice this throat. My fingers either. I want to claw, want to slam my hands against anything and everything to vent the pain. I can't, I can't—if my fingers are ruined, I won't be able to play.
My eyes are fine, my skin is fine, my hair is fine—let them melt, it doesn't matter.
But my throat—no. My fingers—no. My ears—I can't allow it. I need all of these for what comes next.
I stomp up the stairs, kick open an absurdly thick door, and there—right in front of me—the night sky! Wind buffets my face, heat rises in waves from below, and the walls are all gone, but I stagger forward to the edge of the rooftop where I can look down.
Wind howling below, and down there a red figure and a white figure are swinging deadly weapons at each other, and around the white flames countless people are crying and wailing.
And me—I'm burning up, burning up, about to die any second— The heat hasn't gone away either. The soles of my feet are scorching, the wind fans the white flames and they surge even stronger, and suddenly grief comes crashing into my chest, threatening to choke me up— "Snhk... sniffl... L-
It's painful, it's agony, I feel like I'm going to die—but I've reached the place where all that suffering was leading, and from here I can see everyone, my voice can reach everyone.
I'm dying, I'm dying, but there's something I have to do before I die, so...
"Now then—those far away, lend me your ears! Those nearby, watch me dance! And those farther still, I'll raise my voice even louder, so listen up!! Liliana Masquerade is going to sing, play, and dance for you! Listen to me—to the sky that races ahead of the dawn!!"
—All of this burning, burning passion—let's dump every last drop of it right now!