Cryptographer III: What is going on?
In other glass-walled rooms, researchers look up from their work in confusion.
The airlock doors have been sealed tight, and their electronic equipment is flashing erratically.
Broadcast: Warning, warning.
At the same time, all of their screens light up simultaneously, indicating the arrival of a new message.
Cryptographer IV: Hey, Dawkins, forget the outside, come look at this!
Cryptographer IV: Some guy's cracked it! They found the correct pronunciation!
Cryptographer III: For real?! They better be serious. If this is some kind of prank ...
Despite the blaring alarms, the staff gathers around their screens, eagerly reading aloud the incantation that was just sent.
Cryptographer III: La unua ... cirklo ...?
Enigma: Damn it! Damn it! S**t!!!
He runs down the corridor at full speed, gasping for air. Just as the airlock doors begin to close, he flings himself through.
The closest room with glass walls is filled with thick white smoke.
He sprints to the door and frantically pounds on it.
Enigma: Ulrich! Dawkins! Victor! Richard! Are you in there?!
Enigma: Listen, if you receive the pronunciation of the incantation, do not recite it! Do not write it down! Do not pass it on!
Enigma: I know we've had our differences, but you have to trust me. I'm trying to save you!
A chilling silence looms on the opposite side of the door.
The only noise that can be heard is Lucy's emotionless voice coming through the speakers.
Broadcast: Warning, warning.
Broadcast: All personnel stay away from their communication terminals. Do not recite any messages on the screen.
Broadcast: Repeat. Do not recite the incantation. Do not recite the incantation. Do not recite ...
The door suddenly opens. The smoke pouring out nearly chokes him.
Enigma: cough
Enigma: Richard?
Cryptographer IV: ...
A cryptographer emerges from the thick smoke, his movements stiff and his face expressionless.
As he opens his mouth to speak, a small crack forms at the corner of his lips and quickly spreads across his entire face, as if he were made of clay.
Cryptographer IV: Daw—
Suddenly he collapses, his skin splitting and cracking like parched earth.
Enigma: RICHARD!
Enigma quickly moves to support him, preventing his colleague from breaking into pieces on the hard floor.
He checks his vitals—still alive; only his skin has been affected by the mutation. Underneath the cracked exterior, he can still see human flesh and blood.
Enigma: Don't speak. We're going to the rehab center!
Cryptographer IV: No ... You ... Go ... Daw ... kins ...
Lifting a muddy finger, he manages to point toward the room.
Slowly, a monumental figure emerges from the hazy entrance.
It is a mud golem, with thick clumps of mud dripping off its body.
The only remaining human element is Dawkins's nameplate, barely clinging to its chest.
Cryptographer III: Urh, urrrrrh.
Cryptographer III: I'm ...
Enigma: Dawkins! No, no. No!!
The airlock door at the end of the hallway hisses open. A squad of security guards with hypno bullets and restraint nets barge their way in.
Laplace Safety Officer: Researcher Adler, please evacuate immediately!
Laplace Safety Officer: We will take over from here!
COMBAT
Enigma: I thought the worst case would be that the ritual is useless, since no one here can wield it.
Enigma: I was wrong, so terribly wrong. The reality is a million times worse.
Enigma: We have invited a disaster. It is a curse—even more unpredictable, unstable, and uncontrollable than the mask!
He grips his hair tightly, his voice hoarse as he shouts.
Enigma: Dora crumbled to dust. Richard cracked like dry land, and Dawkins turned into a statue of mud.
Enigma: And Victor, he vanished. We've tried everything, but he's nowhere to be found. Yet he's here, typing, sending e-mails, getting the door for me.
Enigma: All of these catastrophic events, and only three words were uttered. Three.
He shakes his head and laughs bitterly, not even in the mood for mockery after all that's happened.
Enigma: What are we dealing with, Madam Lucy? Which deity are we provoking and stealing from?
No one can answer his question.
The security guards are busy cleaning up the mess, while liaisons are frantically issuing warnings and confirming the extent of the casualties.
The rehab center personnel have also arrived, and as they leave, their stretchers are filled with injured people.
His supervisor finishes up a call and hangs up the phone on the wall.
Lucy: Get some rest, Mr. Adler.
Lucy: Your mission is complete. Other researchers will take it from here.
Enigma: You what?
He asks in disbelief, anger swelling in his chest.
Enigma: Are you not going to call it off? After all that's happened?
Lucy: The research must go on.
The robot's answer is concise and cold.
Lucy: The authenticity of the incantation, and the fact that any arcanist can recite it, were revealed to us through this unexpected mishap.
Lucy: Now, a new question arises: how can we eliminate the side effects?
Lucy: From now on, we no longer require the help of human researchers.
Her tone is calm and gentle, yet with authority. The decision has been made.
Lucy: Only arcanum can lift a curse of arcanum.
Vertin: 37!
The eerie sounds continue to reverberate in the cave.
37 kneels on the transparent stairs, blood seeping from her mouth and nose.
Vertin: Stay with me! I'll get you out!
The suitcase. The noises wouldn't reach her in there.
It could be her refuge.
37: Uhm!
37 suddenly jerks. Slowly, an ornate scroll rises from her bosom.
Vertin: Is this 6's scroll?
The strange noises begin to fade.
In its place is an ancient melody.
37: +1, -1, +2, -3, 3, -3, +2, -1, +1 …
37: I see. I understand now.
Vertin: What did you say? 37, are you feeling better now?
She nods, having regained her clarity.
37: They're numbers, Vertin.
37: 6's scroll reconciled the gap between the supreme existence and me. I can now hear and understand.
37: The answer to my question, the solution to free us from the "Emanation," the response Apeiron promised me ...
37: ... is a string of numbers.