There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
—Dylan Thomas
The edge of the world resists change in its own way.
Frozen soil, stagnant time, and roaring winds.
Yet the battleship's armored prow surges forward, blast waves shattering every obstacle.
Magnus's scream sinks beneath the sea, staining the thick ice crimson.
First Mate: Radar's out, no sonar contact. Targets eliminated. We got them.
Captain I: Good work, everyone, but let's not start celebrating yet.
Captain I: The ice is getting thicker. We are entering an ice zone. Notify all bridge personnel to reduce speed.
Captain I: Engineer, what's the damage report?
Triglav Crewman I: The Magnus hit our portside propeller. We're down to about 20% thrust on the steering, sir.
Triglav Crewman II: Sir!
The sentry bursts through the door.
Triglav Crewman II: Visual on an iceberg at 12 o'clock! It's closing in fast!
The captain leans into the high-powered telescope.
First Mate: A speeding iceberg? Really? What did I tell you about staring at the snow too long? It messes with your visi—
The first mate takes the telescope next.
First Mate: F**k! That's no iceberg!
First Mate: It's a fin! A massive one! Something's under the water!
Captain I: A Leviathan!
A shiver runs down the captain's spine.
Captain I: Triglav, all systems engage!
Weapon targeting systems whir alive, but the bottom of the battleship takes the first brutal hit.
Captain I: All units, report your status!
Triglav Crewman I: Water in main battery magazine!
Triglav Crewman I: All watertight compartments are under pressure. Captain, we're going down!
Captain I: Understood.
Flames erupt across the nearby sea as the frigate's fuel tanks ignite in the blast.
Captain I: For all these years, we have fought side by side with Triglav and her three frigates. Not once have these old girls let us down.
First Mate: The Manus must be desperate to stop our landing—sending a Leviathan after us, of all things.
The captain stares out at the colossal creature as it looms closer and closer. Its piercing shriek tears through the air as a prelude to another charge.
Captain I: Let them try. The Foundation will not be stopped at the Ross Sea.
The captain presses the communicator on his chest.
Captain I: Triglav to Operations—initiating detonation of the onboard array.
Admiral Somme: ...
Static hisses briefly before the signal dies over Antarctica.
Yet within moments, precise and clear orders are reissued.
Admiral Somme: Operations to Dida—steer clear of the ice zone, fall back to defense line A2.
Moldir: You made your way here through the Ross Sea. The front lines must've given you a grim taste of the war.
Moldir: The Manus won't let the Foundation set foot on Antarctica—not without a fight. The ritual is too important. They will stop at nothing to see it happen.
Moldir: So here's my offer: reciprocity. As a gesture of good faith, allow me to share some intel on their movements with you first.
Moldir: There's a ruin of an ancient city deep in the heart of Antarctica. That is where the ritual will be held.
Ulrich: A ruin? Here?
Moldir: Against that mountain, yes. But it isn't just any ruin. It's Manus Vindictae's stronghold. Rituals, preparations, high-level meetings—that is where they all happen.
Moldir: In order to secure the continent, they have fortified the coastlines, covering every possible landing point. The Order of Enlightenment is stationed at King Edward VII Peninsula, the Apostles Brotherhood controls Marie Byrd Land, and the former Zeno Sentinel Unit has deployed its forces along King George V Coast.
Moldir: The terrain is already a natural fortress, but that wasn't enough for them. They have deployed a number of arcane-modified beasts. Several Magnus and a Leviathan, if my intel is correct.
Guard: Whoa. No way. A Leviathan? I heard you could sink Australia with one of those things.
Moldir presses the communicator to her ear as battle reports crackle through.
Moldir: Not anymore. The Triglav just blew it up and sank with it in the explosion. She was one of the Foundation's best battleships.
Moldir: A heavy price to pay to only reach a stalemate. If I were you, I wouldn't count on support from the Foundation forces. They're already spread thin just holding the front line.
Moldir: You need a plan to complete your mission without their help.
Moldir: And if you're as smart as I hope you are, you will see that this map is your best shot at reaching the city without getting caught in their territory.
Ulrich: ...
Guard: It all sounds too convenient, boss. We've got no clue what she's really up to.
Ulrich's head remains bowed, only the crackle of circuits breaking his silence.
Moldir: Fair enough.
Moldir: But know that the admiral has ordered the coastline be sealed, I can't let you pass—at least, not without a deal.
Moldir: Whatever your purpose is, you won't make it further without some assistance.
Ulrich: Fine.
Guard: Seriously?
He lifts his fishbowl head, the fluid remaining in a steady flow.
Ulrich: I'm meeting with the Timekeeper at the site of the ritual.
Guard: sigh Brilliant.
Now it's the guard who lowers her head, as if surrendering to defeat.
Moldir: What's the Timekeeper doing there?
Ulrich raises his tied hands.
Ulrich: I'm not saying another word until you remove these cuffs.
Moldir: You think you're in a position to bargain?
Ulrich: Bargain? You were the one suggesting reciprocity. Hardly seems reciprocal to keep us locked up, don't you think?
Moldir: ...
The key clicks into the handcuff's lock, the bolt turns, and then the now freed captive flexes his wrists.
Ulrich: We really are here because of a song. The record is the key to everything.
Ulrich: In 1995, before the world was afflicted with the "Storm," this record—along with its arcane record player—was sent into space aboard the "Regulus Space Telescope," serving as the power source of the satellite.
Ulrich: For 12 years, it took pictures and transmitted them back to Earth.
Ulrich: Then, in 2007, the satellite crashed near Aldeburgh, destroying everything but this record in the process.
Moldir: 2007?
Moldir: That would have been 1966, right after the sixth "Storm."
Ulrich: Precisely. A rock music enthusiast from that era found the record and later brought it to Laplace. She is now a member of the Timekeeper squad.
Ulrich: The last image transmitted from the satellite was timestamped April 16, 2007.
Ulrich: Even after the "Storm" sent everything back, the satellite's timeline kept moving forward.
Moldir: ...!
Moldir: Are you saying that the satellite crossed the "Storm"? How?
Ulrich: We believe it's because of this record.
Ulrich: It's the only material that has been proven to be immune to the "Storm."
Ulrich: In our previous experiments, it reduced the severity of the Storm Syndrome afflicting one of our researchers and slowed its progression on me.
Moldir: Wait, what?
Ulrich: But those results were from small-scale, isolated tests. We've never tried it in a real "Storm."
Ulrich: Since replicas of the record haven't demonstrated the same immunity as the original, we've developed an upgraded amplifier system for it.
Ulrich: Now, when played on our upgraded player, this record can create an immunity zone with a 2.5-mile radius.
Ulrich: But the immunity isn't permanent. We found that the element "Regulus" in the record is consumed every minute it plays. At best, we're looking at 12 minutes of protection with this original copy.
Ulrich: If Manus Vindictae succeeds in triggering another "Storm" with their ritual, this record may be our last line of defense. That's why I've brought it here.
Ulrich: And that's why I need to get it to the Timekeeper. Should the worst happen, at least we can minimize the damage.
Ulrich: And I'll be able to see how it works during an actual "Storm"—an invaluable boon to our research.
Moldir: Sounds like Laplace has made remarkable progress since the Equilibrium Umbrella.
Moldir: I have to say, I'm impressed.
Ulrich: So, there it is—all my cards on the table. What have you got for us?
Moldir: ...
Moldir: The actual location of the ritual is in a sanctuary hidden in the heart of that mountain behind the city ruins.
Guard: Hah, first a city, now a sanctuary? Boss, she's got to be messing with us.
Moldir: I am telling the truth. There's a tunnel in the city that leads into the mountain. Only the "chosen" are allowed through.
Moldir: And you can bet that the tunnel will be heavily guarded.
Moldir turns aside, processing the information absorbed from Ulrich.
Moldir: 2.5 miles of immunity, you said?
Ulrich: That's right. I'll need to know the size of the city and the length of the tunnel to figure out the best placement for the record.
Moldir: I have an idea.
Moldir: The mountain's interior is hollow. The sanctuary sits right in the heart of it.
Moldir: It used to be an active volcano, but it hasn't erupted for centuries.
Moldir: The elevation of the volcano is 11,616 feet. That's just under 2.2 miles.
Ulrich: ...
Ulrich exchanges a glance with the guard beside him.
Guard: Boss, it's not exactly easy to tell what you're thinking, you know. Surely you're not taking her seriously, are you?
Three figures emerge from the abandoned research station, now repurposed as a field hospital.
The two freed captives adjust their clothes, ready to depart.
Moldir hands the map to the guard.
Moldir: Scaling the mountain isn't going to be easy. I have marked the dangerous areas on this map. Try to avoid them when planning your route.
The guard nods and receives the map.
Moldir: Before you go, let me make one thing clear. This is just my advice. Whether you take it or not is up to you.
Moldir: If just the two of you go up the mountain, you may keep yourselves out of the enemy's sights, but it will be highly dangerous. There will be no saving you if something goes wrong.
Ulrich: Of course. We'll weigh our options before we make a move.
Moldir: Good. Keep your head on straight, soldier.
Ulrich: ...
Ulrich: So, just like that, you're letting us walk out of here? With the record and a map? You call it "reciprocity," but what's in it for you?
It may have just been the wind or a trick of the eye, but for a moment Moldir seems to smile.
Moldir: Arcana's death hasn't weakened Manus Vindictae. In fact, they have kept the Foundation very busy, taking different names and causing chaos around the world.
Moldir: They rallied their followers, journeyed across the globe, and set the stage for their ritual on this barren land, and all right under everybody's noses.
Moldir: They planned every step, but you—you just barged in here with nothing but a record and an idea. If you were my soldiers, I would have thrown you out of my camp by now.
Moldir: That said ...
She returns the record to its rightful owner with a solemn gesture.
Moldir: I would rather see the "Storm" end than see you fail.
Ulrich accepts the record in turn.
Ulrich: ...
Ulrich: Well then. Thank you for your help.
After a final handshake, Ulrich turns toward the snowfield with his guard.
A few steps later, he looks back.
Ulrich: Why don't you come with us?
Moldir: Me?
Ulrich: Look, we may be rushing in there like a couple of idiots,
Ulrich: but if this works, if it really stops whatever scheme the Manus are brewing ...
Ulrich: Don't you wanna see it for yourself?
Moldir: It doesn't matter what I want. I have orders.
His ferrofluid flickers a few times before he walks into the gathering powder snow without another word.
Moldir: ...
Moldir snaps a salute to Ulrich.
Trail "Outdoor Experiment"
Guard: pant I knew this wouldn't exactly be a Sunday stroll. Urgh!
The guard pushes another obstructing boulder aside with effort.
Guard: But I didn't think we'd literally be carving our own trail through the wilderness.
Guard: Boss, at this rate, the world'll be in absolute bedlam by the time we reach the top.
Ulrich: Hold on.
Ulrich: Let me check the map Lieutenant gave me.
Guard: Lieutenant Moldir ... As grateful as I am that she set us free—which I absolutely am—I have to say, this isn't exactly the type of freedom I imagined.
There's a rustling sound.
Guard: Who's there?
The guard fumbles for her gun, only to smash her elbow against the very boulder she just moved.
Guard: Tch! Ouch!
Several critter-like creatures burst forth from the snow.
Penguins: Gaaahh!
Penguins: ...
Guard: ...
Ulrich: ...
Ulrich: Penguins? Here?
The penguins charge toward the climbers, their beaks already pecking at the coats.
Guard: Hey! Give that grenade back!
Guard: Uhh. "No interference," right, boss? I mean, you're not going to make me fight a penguin, are you? Look at their little faces!
???: All members of the Sentinel Unit Antarctic Advance Party, attention!
Ulrich: ...?
The penguins wobble into a perfectly aligned row, like well-trained circus performers. Or perhaps even soldiers.
???: Alrighty, let's see what we got here. Rookie guard, check.
???: Awakened researcher with a fish tank for a head, check.
Buddy Fairchild: Mr. Ulrich! Allow me to apologize for the shock my jits have given ya.
Buddy Fairchild: They're jumpier 'n a spring cricket at the moment. Lot of 'em just lost some dear friends o' theirs after gettin' back from Florida—brutal, really.
The little rodent standing before Ulrich snaps off a salute.
Ulrich: Penguins in Florida?
Guard: And a squirrel in Antarctica?
Buddy Fairchild: Not just any squirrel—yer lookin' at a sergeant, missy! Sergeant Buddy Fairchild, reportin' for duty!
Buddy Fairchild: We been waitin' here on account o' the lieutenant's order.
Buddy Fairchild: I been tasked with bein' yer Official Antarctic guide, and it's a good thing too, 'cause ya sure ain't gon' find no one else to guide ya 'round these parts.
Guard: The lieutenant ... You mean Moldir?
Buddy Fairchild: Sure as shootin'. Her message came in earlier today—told me yer fixin' to scale that there mountain and gave me the job o' gettin' ya there.
Penguins: Ga-gah!
In unison, the entire penguin squad delivers a textbook Zeno salute.
Guard: Ah, Moldir, I could kiss you!
Ulrich: So, em, Sergeant Fairchild, you and these, uh, troops, are under Moldir's command?
Ulrich struggles to process the surreal scenario.
Buddy Fairchild: Let's skip the pleasantries, shall we? The lieutenant's orders were clear as the day is long.
Buddy Fairchild: If ya really wanna help yer friends and save the world, then we better get yer bee-hinds up that mountain quicker 'n a cat on a hot tin roof and get that record playin'.
Buddy Fairchild: Now let's get movin' 'fore the Manus get their ritual goin'!
Guard: "Save the world"? I had no idea she thought so highly of us.
Buddy Fairchild clasps his hands behind his back, tapping the ground with his feet.
Buddy Fairchild: Hmm. Now, let's see here.
Circling Ulrich with paws still firmly behind his back, Buddy Fairchild sizes him up with a critical eye.
Buddy Fairchild: Mountain ain't no Everest, but it's sure as a storm in July to be a tough climb for ya'll big-n-tall'uns.
Buddy Fairchild: Well, can't never could. Buckle up, folks! I don't wanna see no bodies tumblin' down the mountain, ya hear?
GAMEPLAY & COMBAT