Explosions erupt from all directions, unleashing deafening waves of sound that reverberate through the confined space with a metallic ring.
—!
Excruciating pain suddenly explodes in her chest as an old, bone-deep affliction rampages through her body like a storm, tearing through her limbs and searing every inch of her skin.
█▄▆█.
Nirvatia has already given the last dose of her tranquilizer away, leaving her with no strength to fight against the agony branded into her soul.
Keep... running...
The twisted branches of the Golden Oak collapse and burn amidst the thunderous noise. Nirvatia staggers forward, biting her lip as she trembles and presses on.
Ahead, flickering light illuminates the jagged outlines of ruins. It is the source of the explosions, and the direction where Margaret and you are located.
Without the protection of the blocker, the Red Mist mercilessly ravages Nirvatia, pulling at her disoriented thoughts and steadily infiltrating her M.I.N.D.
From today onward, you're one of us, Nirvatia.
Muffled syllables reach her, as if transmitted through thick, flowing water. Whose voice was it? There is no time to discern.
We'll be friends from now on, okay?
This one is clearer. Was that her own voice? Did it come from some distant, dust-shrouded afternoon long ago?
The thick mist coils around her like a living creature with a cold, viscous, and skin-crawling sensation. It seeps through her torn clothing, penetrating her skin and infusing her vital fluid.
Despite her fragmenting M.I.N.D., she presses forward with unwavering resolve, determined to continue onward.
Because she knows you are waiting for her there—waiting for help, for closure, or perhaps simply for someone to face the ending with.
Guh—!
The Red Mist forces her to throw up vital fluid. Nirvatia stumbles and collapses hard onto her knees.
The tearing pain darkens her vision, but even more distinct than the agony are the whispers echoing in her ears.
Ah, the flashes are going off!
Um, hey! Are we supposed to say something together for this?
Margaret... Jagienka...
Broken syllables escape Nirvatia's throat as she props herself up with her arms. The rubble cuts into her palms, her vital fluid mixing with the filth on the ground.
Within her field of vision, countless blurred figures sway in the crimson mist. Some are familiar and comforting, some are grotesque and twisted, while others merely watch in silence.
A cacophony of voices collide. The ghosts from her past merge with present phantoms, tearing at her M.I.N.D. She can't distinguish between the Red Mist's poison and the memories resurfacing from the depths of her mind.
But she knows her direction.
What determines a person's worth has never been about what you can achieve, but rather what you're willing to sacrifice for a righteous cause.
I'm going back.
I'm going back.
FOR A BETTER TOMORROW!
All these voices and apparitions have formed the path she now walks upon.
She is both pursued by these voices and encouraged by them as she presses forward.
It has been this way since the beginning, and remains so even now.
Our story won't end here.
She is near.
The vibrations of explosions travel more distinctly from ahead. Waves of scorching air laced with the smell of gunpowder are slightly diluting the bloody stench of the Red Mist.
[player name]...
She swallows down the bloody foam rising in her throat and gathers her scattered strength one last time as she pushes toward that intersection of light and fire and the person waiting for her—
She stumbles onward.
