Your condition is worse than I expected... Does [player name] know?
No.
Of course. The commandant isn't a Construct specialist, and you wouldn't tell the Commandant on your own.
Then...
Time's short, so I'll be brief. You know your frame's condition better than I do. Right now, it can only output about 40% of its intended combat capacity. For the rest of your journey, you must avoid fighting as much as possible.
The more serious issue is your M.I.N.D. Has [player name] tried stabilizing it for you?
Many times... but it hasn't improved.
Just what I expected. Your new frame uses a different design, allowing you to switch between humanoid and hybrid forms.
To keep your M.I.N.D. stable during form switching, we need to keep it in its initial state—the state it entered right after activation...
Can you just tell me the conclusion?
The conclusion is simple. Your frame didn't complete the required M.I.N.D. initialization during its first activation.
Because of that, your M.I.N.D. can't be stabilized through the commandant's support until you return to Babylonia for proper maintenance.
Given your current condition, your M.I.N.D. deviation will keep worsening until it's repaired. There's a very high chance you'll lose stable control over your frame.
What's the worst case?
You'll slip into a coma-like hibernation.
Every second of this call is precious. In just a few minutes, the interference blanketing the Arctic could cut the line. Even so, Rosetta falls silent.
How long do I have?
Based on the data I have, roughly five days. Babylonia has the right equipment to recalibrate your M.I.N.D. Once you get there, everything can be fixed. But...
I need to reach the evacuation point before I lose mobility.
Yes, Rosetta. This will be a very difficult journey.
I wish you and the Gray Raven Commandant... safe... trav—
His final word dissolves into static. The line snaps completely, cutting the last thread that connected you to Babylonia. Now, the two of you stand alone on this silent, frozen world.
Snowfields
Arctic region
Day two of your trek
Arctic region. Unknown coordinates. Snowfields. Day two of your trek.
Compared to yesterday's calm and clear weather, today is harsher. You're both grateful you managed to cover so much distance while the sky was still kind.
Rosetta walks ahead of you, saying nothing. Her silence gives away the thoughts she's trying to sort through.
[player name], where do you think people go after they die?
Rosetta turns back to you. You've never seen her eyes hold so much confusion and sorrow.
Yes... Is there really such a thing as a realm of the departed?
...
There's disappointment hidden in her silence.
But what?
Rosetta stays silent, following behind you, chewing on your words.
The wind begins to pick up, sweeping fine snow into the air. The horizon starts to blur as the ground and sky blend together.
You walk ahead of Rosetta through the rising snow, clearing both the path before you and the doubts clouding her mind.
Enjoy... or endure? Are you saying not everyone lives in this world with hope, [player name]?
You push forward against the wind and snow. At the top of a snow ridge, you extend your hand back toward her.
And what about us?
In the swirling snow, Rosetta stands beside you at the ridge you helped her climb, taking in everything you just said.
So... does that mean we all become the departed one day?
We're... "departing" right now?
You gently wipe away the frozen snow clinging to her cheek.
You stop walking, remove your heavy gloves, and scoop up a handful of pristine snow. The moment your skin meets the ice, a raw exchange of heat begins.
Rosetta watches as the fine snow melts quickly in your palm, leaving the warm skin beneath flushed red from the cold.
So that means... Grandpa is...
She seems to realize something and looks to you for confirmation. You only meet her gaze gently, offering neither a nod nor a shake of the head.
Rosetta remembers clearly how her grandpa's soul slipped away with his body's warmth as she held him, while she desperately searched for serum to resist the Punishing Virus.
Yet even the Punishing Virus spares the dead. Death is not a disease. It cannot be cured.
Rosetta doesn't look at how painfully red your outstretched hand has become. She simply takes it in hers, passing her warmth into your cold fingers.
I do believe that.
Regaining clarity for a moment, Rosetta finally notices the worsening weather. The snow is now far too heavy to travel safely.
The snow seems to be getting worse.
Fortunately, a wind-sheltered cave lies hidden beneath a nearby snowbank. Like a silent guide, it casts a faint, clever glimmer toward you through the polar night.
Standing at the entrance, you shake off the snow clinging to you and step carefully into the cave.
It's so dark in here...
We'll have light once we get a fire going.
A faint glow rises in a pitch-black forest. An old man with a torch walks beside Rosetta through the quiet woods. Animals startled by the firelight scatter in all directions, but neither of them pays it any mind.
They head toward the traps they had set earlier.
A seasoned hunter never depends solely on guns or bows. Days ago, Puff and Rosetta had already planted these traps throughout the forest.
And now, the harvest time has come.
Even before reaching the third trap, they can already hear the pained cries of the wounded prey.
A dying deer lies within the pit, its eyes reflecting the grandpa and granddaughter studying their catch. Rosetta recognizes the fear and despair she once knew all too well.
Rosetta, this one's yours.
Rosetta jumps into the pit and quickly finds the point on the deer's neck that will end its suffering the fastest.
As the blade sinks into its flesh, the deer lets out its final cry.
Grandpa, did I forget to pray again?
There's no need. You're already an exceptional warrior, Rosetta. You've faced more life and death than I ever have... You understand the weight of it.
The weight... of life and death?
The old hunter dresses the animal with practiced skill. Fresh death sends streams of fading warmth into the frigid forest air.
You've long known how to face the deaths of others, haven't you?
Including mine.
I'm sorry, Grandpa... I'm so sorry... If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have...
Don't say that, silly child.
He hands the torch to Rosetta, then turns and steps back into the darkness they came from.
I'm the one who should be sorry... child.
The firelight can't reach his face. It only outlines the stooped silhouette of the old man carrying his prey. Rosetta knows he will never grow older, nor younger again. He remains frozen at the age of his death.
I regret never having the chance to tell you this story.
It's about... your parents.
My... parents?
It was a long time ago... back then, I resigned from the armed force.
Puff seems to have forgotten that Rosetta is no longer a child. She senses the anger buried in his voice, a fury that has lingered so long it clings to him even after death.
Was it because of... the Amalgamator project?
I couldn't accept such inhumane experimentation, so I withdrew early and walked away from that blood-soaked place.
Your parents were researchers there...
They... worked on modifying Amberia?
Yes... but when Amberia went berserk, their conscience awakened. They fled with some of the technical documents.
Of course...
The old man stops and turns. In the torchlight, Rosetta sees her reflection in his eyes.
And you, my child.
Because they stole classified data, and to prevent leaks, the Arctic Route began hunting down all researchers involved.
Your parents found me and entrusted you to my care. It was their way of atonement.
And after that? Where did they go? Did you ever see them again, Grandpa?
When they brought you to me, they were already being hunted... To avoid dragging us down, they drew the pursuers in the opposite direction.
I never saw them again... only their bloodstained clothes later in the snow forest. Perhaps...
There's no need to explain further. Rosetta understands now. Her parents, whom she never had the chance to meet, made their final choice to protect her.
Before the memorial grave I made with their clothes, I vowed I would raise you well. That was my promise to them.
Their deaths changed me.
They seem to be nearing the end of the forest. Rosetta glimpses faint threads of light ahead through the darkness.
And my death has changed you as well, my child.
Death? What is it like? Only the dead truly know. But they can't tell anyone their thoughts or feelings, for their consciousness vanishes the instant death takes hold.
The living, however, can only imagine. They imagine the regrets the dead left behind, imagine the hopes they never fulfilled, imagine their own guilt, imagine that the dead linger in the world as some spiritual echo.
And so the living reshape themselves through their imagined versions of the dead.
Rosetta... do you know? This is exactly what I feel guilty for...
His voice is low, weighed down by helpless sorrow. He never turns around. And just as she can only imagine the moment of his death, Rosetta can only picture the emptiness in the expression she can't see.
The dead hold power over the living through the one experience the living can never have: death.
They step out of the forest's dark curtain. Dawn's piercing light clashes jarringly with the name of the realm of the departed. Rosetta suddenly remembers the true name of this land:
"The mortal world."
The radiant sun has already risen above the horizon, its long-absent light consuming her completely.
In the dim cave, the tactical flashlight is far too harsh. Seeing Rosetta shield her eyes, you fumble to switch off the device you rarely use.
The dead hold power over the living through the one experience the living can never have: death...
You don't quite catch her quiet whisper while putting the flashlight away.
Grandpa was apologizing to me...
Yes. He said...
Rosetta repeats Puff's words from her vision. The flashlight's glare fades, and only the faint, flickering campfire remains, its damp wood crackling softly as it struggles to burn.
A way of interpreting memory?
Were those... the comrades who fell beside you, [player name]?
Then... do you let them "hold power over" you, Commandant?
It's our choice to carry these burdens...
Know what?
It's hard to imagine you using the word "conquer" to describe our relationship with science, [player name].
That kind of "forever"... feels too heavy.
You take the terminal back from her hands. Rosetta sinks into thought again while you stir the fire, coaxing the weak flames to burn brighter.
Alright. Gear up properly and be careful!
Once fully equipped, you step out of the cave. The snow has let up drastically, giving you a rare window to move forward.
But something is wrong... Out in the empty snowfields, you see lights that never should appear here. Enemy indicator lights. The same kind the hostile mechanoids at the institute used.
The lights are dim, yet painfully obvious in the pitch-black polar night. You watch them creep slowly across the snow.
You pull back into the cave after confirming the pursuit, ready to discuss your next move with Rosetta.
Can you tell if they're the same force that attacked the institute?
Then I'll eliminate them!
Do you have a plan, [player name]?
You pull up the planned evacuation route on your terminal and sketch a more winding alternative beside it.
If you were their Commandant, would you only send one pursuit team?
If one team is here, there are probably more. A detour might help us lose this group, but it could also lead us right into another.
So instead...
Rosetta raises her hand and forms a silent gesture, one she learned from Puff long ago. A hunter's sign for "ambush."
We set an ambush. Wipe out every last one of them.
You notice a small oversight in Rosetta's strategy.
...Observing, waiting, and using the terrain to gain the upper hand. Well done, Rosetta.
Grandpa, will this be enough to catch that ermine?
Most of your steps are correct. But you forget one thing: Always plan an escape route, and think carefully about what you'll do if the one who comes isn't an ermine... but something far more dangerous.
Something more dangerous?
If you realize you're outmatched, abandon the prey if you must. Never strike recklessly and put yourself in danger. That is the first lesson of hunting.
Never let yourself become the prey.
Become the prey?
When you know you're outmatched, you walk away. Losing the prey is fine. Losing yourself is not.
But if the prey is weak and careless, that's when you strike.
We've already laid the bait. It'll draw them right into where we want them.
Don't drift off now, child. Did you hear what I just said?
Yes.
