Everything—I’ll burn it all… and my whole disgusting life, too.
HP | 79.0 + (2.73*lvl) |
DEF |
Trigger | Dialogue |
---|---|
Identity Acquisition | Everything—I’ll burn it all… and my whole disgusting life, too. |
Morning Greeting | So it’s you. Have you slept well? As for me… sleep wouldn’t come. |
Afternoon Greeting | I don’t feel like eating. You should take off your mask and have a nice meal. |
Evening Greeting | Have you ever been afraid of dreaming? …I wish I were like you. |
Chatter #1 | Ever since I realized that my life had been intertwined with disgusting beings, my every memory haunts me as its own nightmare. |
Chatter #2 | I burned and scorched them away… I saw them turn to ashes before my eyes, yet they still torment me. |
Chatter #3 | …She is right—I must carry out more purification… That will then purify my mind with certainty. |
Post-Uptie Chat 1 | I skewered sixteen today. Tomorrow, I will nail and cremate twice as many. Huhu… It gets fun as you keep at it, doesn’t it? |
Post-Uptie Chat 2 | The power to cleanse filth with fire… Indeed, it was certainly a good idea to listen to her. |
Idle | …If you have nothing to say, then may I go see her now? |
Uptying | This doesn’t really feel special. I have… always had talent… as the chosen one. |
Deployment | I’ll wrest them upon stakes. |
Stage Entry | To purge the grounds with fire, and build anew a clean world. |
Viewed in Battle | I’m busy right now. |
Commencing Attack | Unto the fire. |
Enemy Stagger | …Good. |
Staggered | Huch! |
Enemy Killed | …Go down in flames. |
Death | Was this… not the answer…? |
Check Passed | That wasn’t troublesome at all. |
Check Failed | Tsk, I knew that wouldn’t work. |
Victory Cry | I think… I did well enough to be acknowledged by her. |
Extra Conditions Fulfilled | It’s only natural. Because I… am the chosen one… Isn’t that right? |
Defeat Wail | Scheiße, just how did—? Grrmgh… |
Mad Flame
Heal 50% less SP from winning a clash or defeating an enemy.
Cornering
CRIMSON x 6
1 ally with the least SP deals +10% Blunt damage. If said ally is below 0 SP, further boost their Blunt damage the lower their SP is. (Max 10%)
Coerced Judgement
Coerced Judgement
Coerced Judgement
Coerced Judgement
Amoral Enactment
Amoral Enactment
Amoral Enactment
Amoral Enactment
Self-destructive Purge
Self-destructive Purge
Sinclair.
A soft and gentle voice enveloped the area.
Look this way, Sinclair.
The voice is wrapping—perhaps coiling, even.
Alas.
Keke… Kahah! Isn’t this a magnificent sight?
The laughter of the one standing next to the child completely twisted the air, like a hair-raising shriek made by two sharp pieces of metal scraping against each other, then flicking away.
Examining the area closely…
One could see that it was surrounded by raging, knifelike flames.
How does it feel, Sinclair? How does it feel to witness this sight ablaze?!
Her voice could even be described as manic, her wry smirk more twisted than the fire around her.
…Ah.
That is when the child opened his mouth.
His lips trembled, his lungs brought up gasps and huffs.
Could this be a response of fear? Indeed, it may seem that way.
The child most certainly had something that one could call a chance.
He could’ve hatched out of the shell that is fate with his own strength, and gripped control over the path his life should take.
And yet…
It’s beautiful… Faust. Beautiful to look at those vile and repulsive things being purged.
It’s not so easy to reject the ease of letting another crack the egg from the outside.
Even if they aren’t your mother bird…
Even if they wrest hold of your path and jostle it…
That disquieting flame, almost mistakable for warmth, lures you into giving up your strength before it like a comforting bonfire.
Why didn’t I let go earlier, Faust?
I didn’t need to bother trying to think or ponder so much when there was a clear answer laid right before me.
The child spoke with a trembling voice, whimpering on the verge of tears.
Pushed out of his nest all too soon, feigning the confidence he sorely lacks…
A baby bird who hasn’t even broken his shell fully.
That would be the description most befitting this child.
Not just anyone can be like Faust, Sinclair.
However, it’s alright… Nfu.
The child with silver hair spoke, pointing to the sky.
Up above, something muttering indistinct mechanical noises was skewered to a nail.
Ah… Ahh!
The child’s pupils further shrink, while his tremble grows yet more intense.
It was painfully evident that he did not wish for what he was witnessing.
Despite him knowing this as well, he has decided that he will be ignorant of it.
Despite still thinking that what he is doing isn’t right, he cannot resist the convenience of letting this mysterious mother bird bring him food.
A pink chick who does nothing but gape and swallow.
Having dived into a pot of boiling oil, the child had no choice but to flutter with his melting arms.
…Though, by the time the fire dies down, he’ll have been reduced to ash.
Ha… Haha.
The child laughed.
Congratulations, Sinclair. Now you’ve become someone who can laugh at that sight.
The one standing next to the child celebrated him with sincerity.
In truth, she was lauding her own achievement more than anything; if there really were possibilities diverging into numerous worlds… she had managed to mold the child into a form one of those worlds must envy.
It may even be that someone from another world has already been infatuated by a glimpse of the changing and charring child.
Soon enough, that world too will face a storm of fire, oil, and sparks; the child there will face a similar yet distinct trial.
Now, let us begin, Sinclair. The cleansing of this world.
…Okay.
The child weeps amidst the fire; he shall ultimately be snuffed out in flame, unceasingly swinging the steel in his two arms and failing to grip anything in his hands, unable to tread the path he chose.
Whether he will break the shell from inside, or instead yield himself to the ease of being gripped open…
What happens in that world will stay there.
Though, if you ask which world will be the first to reach that point…
Who could ever know?