"Uncle, Chernobog… it's being struck by a Catastrophe."
"I know."
"…In this disaster, who knows how many families will be torn apart, how many will suffer tragedies beyond repair."
"…I know."
"Uncle…"
"Can you shut your mouth?"
"…Yes, sir."
---
At that moment, in Chernobog.
The darkest corners of terran nature ran rampant.
"You filthy Infected! Don't you dare touch me!"
"Heh… How does it feel, being spat on by the very Infected you used to look down on?"
Inside a mansion already taken by rioters—
"Why aren't you lowborn Infected rotting away in the mines? Your lot's been treated too well if you can gather forces like this!"
"You fat, pig-headed noble could never understand our pain. All of you aristocrats deserve to die. Now go to hell!"
Some citizens, still clinging to the hope that they might escape unscathed, tried bargaining with the mob.
"I never once looked down on the Infected! I've always been a steadfast believer in Duke Kashchey's ideals!"
"Kashchey? That hypocritical old wretch only ever cared about so-called 'talent.' Tell me—when did he ever lift his gaze to the truly wretched ones like us?!"
The tragedies multiplied.
"Daddy, Mommy… I'm so scared."
"Heh… Look what we have here—a bunch of children."
"Fufufu… A group of toys that can run, jump, cry, and scream~"
"What the hell are you? Bastards, I'm not afraid of a bunch of ki—ahhhh!!!"
"Disobedient toys, splattering blood all over us. My poor parents will have to wash these stains out of my clothes… Oh, wait. I remember. I saw you little toys kicking my parents' heads around like a ball, didn't I? Fufufufu~"
"My parents are gone too. These toys are broken!"
"Fufufufu~"
Some children had already snapped.
---
"Talulah, let's find a place to rest for now. The weather feels… off," Alina urged gently.
Talulah glanced at her exhausted, battle-worn soldiers. After a moment's thought, she accepted Alina's suggestion.
She knew—her troops were weary, not just in body but in spirit.
They must have been wrestling with confusion.
Deep down, they still carried a burning hatred toward the non-Infected.
"My comrades," Talulah began, her voice solemn,
"I know that many of you are lost and uncertain."
"Many among us have suffered at the hands of the uninfected."
"Families that ceased to be families. Friends that ceased to be friends. Homes that ceased to be homes."
"But not every uninfected is ignorant, or cruel."
"You should all know who I am."
"I am the daughter of Ursus's Eternal Duke—Kashchey's heir."
The members of Reunion began murmuring to each other.
Of course, they knew her heritage. The day Duke Kashchey appeared had made everything clear.
They had simply chosen to avoid the subject.
Perhaps, too, they had been waiting for Talulah to speak for herself.
"But I abandoned that identity. I cast away that bright and promising future… to stand here, with you."
With a sharp motion, Talulah tore open her sleeve, revealing the Originium crystals embedded in her arm.
The surrounding Reunion fighters fell silent.
Their leader might not have been eloquent, but they understood her meaning clearly.
For the daughter of a duke—especially the Eternal Duke's heir—to become Infected was unthinkable.
There was only one explanation.
Talulah had infected herself.
"I'm not asking you to let go of your hatred. That would be impossible."
Her voice rose, her words burning with emotion.
"I only want you to understand—among the uninfected, there are those who bear goodwill toward us."
"We must unite with every force willing to stand with us, so that together we may fight against our true enemies: the ignorant masses, the rulers who treat us as tools, and the arrogance and prejudice that bind this world."
"Will you continue to follow me?"
Talulah stretched out her hand toward the members of Reunion.
In that moment, she radiated the unmistakable brilliance of an idealist.
True, idealists rarely meet a good end. Most abandon their ideals in time, beaten down by reality.
The few who persist burn brightly for only a fleeting moment—
yet in that instant, they inspire others, touching hearts so deeply that followers rally to them willingly.
The Reunion fighters, stirred by Talulah's words, began to respond—
And then the Catastrophe struck.
---
Massive chunks of Originium fell like artillery shells, crashing down toward Chernobog.
Everyone in the city looked skyward in dread.
The destructive power of a Catastrophe was immense, but its radiation was far more terrifying—turning an uninfected into a terminal case with cruel ease.
Those still out in the streets, unable to find shelter, ran in panic.
Those who had found cover huddled in silence, whispering prayers into the darkness.
But soon, confusion spread among them.
Where was the sound of impact?
---
'The Eternal Duke himself shields Ursus's cities from the Catastrophe… Excellent.'
---
Then, in the eyes of many within Chernobog, a vision appeared.
A figure of pure white.
It leaned upon a scepter, a notebook spread across its knees, while a trembling hand scrawled words upon the page.
[Catastrophe Prohibited—Kashchey]
Those caught in the vision saw the words clearly, impossibly so.
The figure did not truly exist in the world around them, and yet it was etched into their sight, unavoidable.
Even closing their eyes made no difference.
And with the vision came a heavy weariness, a creeping drowsiness.
---
"Amiya… you didn't see that white figure?"
The speaker was a black-haired woman with canine ears, whip in hand—Dobermann.
"No. I can't sense anything at all… Doctor, did you notice something?"
Amiya shook her head, her gaze full of worry for the ever-silent Doctor.
"No."
The Doctor's voice, calm and androgynous, gave nothing away.
"I see. Then… may I address that white figure?"
The one speaking now was a blonde Kuranta, visibly restless.
"…Nearl, I suggest you hold your tongue. You saw those words as well. The Eternal Duke of Ursus has acted."
"…Understood. I'll take responsibility for everyone's safety."
Nearl bit her lip, frustrated, but her eyes remained fixed on the white apparition.
The phantom continued to tremble as it wrote, stroke by painstaking stroke:
[No violence permitted here for one day—Kashchey]
Suddenly, the figure convulsed, coughing violently, spewing forth an unknown fluid. Its form wavered, then faded, vanishing from every observer's sight.
---
'As I thought. To meddle with both the Catastrophe and an entire city on a whim… the cost is too great. This vessel must be taken to the Treatment Chamber immediately.'
'Still, that final spray of blood was a masterstroke.'
'It seems the plan will proceed smoothly.'
'Now, it's time to bring this farce to an end.'