arrow_back Wuthering Waves Quests 
Rinascita II Segue
Rust, Sword and the Sun
While waiting for contact from the Ephor's Palace, you and Abby arrive at Solis Tavern, where you run into a blind wandering bard—Nestor. Having learned of the Ephor's invitation to the hunt, Nestor shares with you Augusta's stories before she rose to power.
Quest List
You and Abby arrive at Solis Tavern. While waiting for contact from the Ephor's Palace, you run into a blind wandering bard, Nestor. He shares with you Augusta's stories before she rose to power.
Abby:
Ugh, muggy day... Sky's gloomy, air's all wet...
Abby:
Oh, man! At least let me finish my sentence!
Abby:
Brrr... cold, cold, cold...
Abby:
Oh right, I'm famished! We barely had a bite sprinting all the way here from Ragunna...
Abby:
Whoa, pinch me! This is a feast and a half!
Abby:
Hey, Rover... so, uh... we did bring enough money, right? I mean, we kinda rushed out without grabbing anything...
Rover:
Oh, that... don't worry, money's not an issue.
Rover:
Augusta made sure we're covered. All our food and lodging here in Septimont is billed straight to the Ephor's Palace.
Rover:
But...
Rover:
I think the owner might've overdone it a little...
Abby:
Hah, better get used to it. You're the champ of the Great Agon!
Abby:
And you know me. If food's on offer, I'll be a scoffer. No leftovers, guaranteed!
Abby:
Mmmf, yum yum...
Abby:
Free stay, free meal... This Ephor really knows how to treat guests. Maybe we should, you know, hang around a bit longer.
Abby:
(Sniffs) This smells amazing!
Rover:
Abby, what do you think Imperator wants me to find? If Cartethyia's right, the last clues should be somewhere on the Sanguis Plateaus.
Rover:
We're so close to the finish line, just one step away. But our pace has slowed...
Abby:
(Hiccups) Relax! We're already back in Septimont, what's the rush?
Abby:
I remember Lupa said there's this weird Blightcloud hanging over the Sanguis Plateaus.
Abby:
And when the "High Tide" or whatever rolls around, all the Gladiators go there to hunt Tacet Discords.
Abby:
Wait, is the High Tide coming up soon? The Ephor's invite did say something about a big hunt.
Abby:
Huh... that reminds me, aren't we supposed to meet her today?!
Rover:
A messenger came this morning. Augusta is dealing with an emergency, so our meeting's postponed... looks like it'll be a while.
Rover:
An unexpected change. It's throwing everything off course... I don't like the feel of it.
Rover:
And why me for this hunt? If it's about the Great Agon... the messenger said none of the other Gladiators were invited.
Abby:
Who knows? Maybe she just wants to test her strength against you. Typical Septimontian, right?
Rover:
You think so?
Rover:
I've only met her a few times, but I doubt she acts on such simple impulses.
Rover:
And as the Ephor, is she really in a position to do whatever she wants?
???:
Guest from afar, you possess eyes as clear as crystal.
???:
But... what troubles you so, that eyes once bright as the highland sky now darken with rolling clouds.
???:
...A warrior who walks the blade's edge does not falter over trifles.
???:
The clouds, if I may guess, are cast from the throne...
???:
At the peak of Capitoline Hill, beneath the pale walls of the Ephor's Palace... secrets lie buried. And the most intricate among them are those born from the pursuit of power.
???:
Even one as honorable as the Ephor must learn when to be ruthless.
???:
In Septimont, a city forged in iron and blood, anyone who seeks the throne without knowing the cost is no better than a lamb marching to the butcher's knife.
Nestor:
I am Nestor, a traveling poet.
Nestor:
The rains in Septimont never seem eager to leave this season. So then...
Nestor:
If you are curious about the Ephor... then allow me to say that nothing would honor me more than to offer even a modest service to the Champion of the Great Agon.
Abby:
Wait, how do you know Rover is the Champion? And all that stuff about the Ephor, too...
Abby:
...Your eyes... hmm... Were we talking too loud?
Nestor:
To see and to hear are but two of the many ways to perceive. Trusting the senses is a habit, a natural expedience, but not the only option.
Nestor:
Truth be told, I've been gathering inspiration for my next epic, and its protagonist is none other than Augusta, the Ephor of Septimont.
Nestor:
That's why I speak of her with some familiarity.
Nestor:
I have a feeling your tale with her will soon be written. And knowing more about those who walk alongside you is rarely without its benefits.
Nestor:
Augusta—
Nestor:
A girl of humble birth, a Resonator of modest talent, a commoner without noble patronage. And yet from the den of wolves that is Septimont City, she rose, and eventually claimed her place.
Nestor:
Just like the burning sun was once a cloud of dust.
Nestor:
Are you ready to listen to the "Epic of the Blazing Sun"?
Nestor:
Fail enough times, and you might eventually succeed. Should we call it resilience, or mere stubbornness?
Nestor:
Or perhaps, for a girl who has lost everything, there was never a second option. She had no one to trust but herself, and naught but a blade to hold.
Nestor:
And yet...
Nestor:
As the first stanza of an epic, this is nothing extraordinary.
Nestor:
Since the Lament, across the scorched lands of Solaris, I've heard this story repeat itself again and again.
Nestor:
Greatness, yes, our era has certainly seen it. But true greatness is never found on the first page of a story.
Nestor:
Courage, glory, and honor... such immortal virtues have been etched in tablet and stone. They are never forged overnight.
Nestor:
Light as a thread, elusive as the wind, they weave themselves into every twist of fate, tangling with every "insignificant" choice we make.
Abby:
Hmm...
Abby:
I don't know, it's just unbelievable. The Augusta he's talking about and the Ephor we saw in the arena... No way they're the same person.
Nestor:
Heh, a girl far from home, arriving in the city upon Capitoline Hill in pursuit of strength. No title, no status, no wealth...
Nestor:
I doubt anyone at the time could've imagined her rising to where she is now.
Nestor:
Do you mean... Cato?
Nestor:
Do you believe Cato handed her that final victory on purpose, and that his scathing words were a test of her resolve?
Nestor:
Then Cato must've been an idealist, to place his faith in a girl with nothing to her name.
Nestor:
Now, why don't we keep this question in mind and see where the story leads us.
Nestor has told you everything he knows, yet his stories barely scratch the surface of Augusta's life. In the end, Nestor poses his questions: What is it that has lifted Augusta to the seat of power? What is it that makes a ruler? He expects no quick answers, but hopes you will meet Augusta with these questions in mind and seek the answers yourself.
Nestor:
Merely the rough shape of a short epic. This is all I can offer about the Ephor.
Nestor:
Now, as a listener, what do you make of my narration?
Nestor:
I appreciate your kind words, my generous listener.
Nestor:
I am only a humble wordsmith spinning verses and rhymes. The essence of poetry is granted by those who dare defy their fate.
Nestor:
But there is one thing I must confess.
Nestor:
Through my words, your knowledge of the Ephor is... partial, at best.
Nestor:
Poetry can only offer a glimpse of the true story. The reality of people, events, and things slips beyond the grasp of words.
Nestor:
I do not belong in the pages of the epic, so I remain confined to the observer's gaze. I can imagine events and emotions unfold, but I cannot truly recreate them.
Nestor:
Here's some advice for you, though I hesitate to call it such...
Nestor:
If you want the truth of a story, step into it. Become part of it. The opportunity stands before you now.
Nestor:
As I've said, the tale between you and Augusta, the hero of Septimont, is only now turning its next page.
Nestor:
It's not difficult to see. Fate flows like the stars tracing their course. Your destination is written in the steps you take.
Nestor:
The rain is passing... I hear it ceasing its symphony upon the earth. It is time for farewells.
Nestor:
Before I leave, may I ask you one last question? What is it that has lifted Augusta to the seat of power? What is it that makes a ruler?
Abby:
Well... I'd say strength.
Abby:
Let's be real. There's no way Augusta could've passed those trials without strength.
Abby:
Rover, what do you think?
Nestor:
Hehe, you needn't rush to answer now. Keep it in mind as you continue your journey.
Nestor:
When the final chapter is written, the answer will reveal itself.
Nestor:
Farewell, my friend. Our paths crossed by fate and by chance.
Nestor:
Soon after this brief encounter, everything about me will be gone with the wind. But you... your epic continues.
The Ephor's Palace rings with the Senators' criticisms toward Priestess Iuno as usual. After addressing their complaints, Augusta meets with the center of the grievances herself on the Palace roof. Iuno has some reservations about the upcoming hunting operation and their plans due to the prophecy she saw, but Augusta assures her firmly that she will fight to the very end.
The previous day...
Shrewd Senator:
Your Excellency, you have indulged her too much.
Shrewd Senator:
As the Priestess, Iuno is far too unruly in both action and word. It's a disgrace to her title.
Stern Senator:
Indeed. She entered the Palace unannounced, uninvited, and with no decorum.
Stern Senator:
A blatant affront to the authority of the Palace.
Augusta:
Heh... same as always.
Augusta:
Senators, all she crossed was a doorway. One too insignificant to carry the weight of our authority, or defend anyone's fragile pride.
Augusta:
Let us not forget, it is not the walls of Capitoline Hill that command fear.
Augusta:
It is my will, my sword, and our relentless conquest.
Augusta:
I know your fear. You fear a Priestess's voice drowning yours, and a rebel challenging the Senate's rules.
Augusta:
But listen well, power does not bow to sycophants cowering behind their traditions.
Augusta:
If you seek power, then step from the shadows. Face me and prove yourself worthy.
Iuno:
Took you long enough, Augusta.
Augusta:
Handling the senators takes time. You know that.
Augusta:
Well, to keep our esteemed Priestess from waiting, maybe next time I'll just leave them to their own devices.
Augusta:
I'll make sure they record every detail of your "feat" and relay it word-for-word to Grandmother Lillibet.
Augusta:
"Priestess Iuno: Unruly behavior, left Tetragon Temple without permission and trespassed into the Ephor's Palace."
Augusta:
...I wonder, who will lose it first, Lillibet or you?
Iuno:
Let those old foxes report me all they want.
Iuno:
If they step into the Tetragon left foot first, I'll shoot the left. Right foot first? I'll shoot the right.
Augusta:
Heh, I'm with you on that one.
Augusta:
The Senate should be reminded now and then that the Tetragon's kindness is not a reason to take Priestess Iuno lightly.
Augusta:
Why didn't you wait there? I had everything handled. We depart for the hunting ground tonight.
Augusta:
If anything changed, you could've reached me by my Terminal. You didn't need to come all the way here... I want you free of duty until that day arrives.
Iuno:
You're overthinking it, Augusta. I'm here to see that person.
Iuno:
Grandmother Lillibet said {Male=his;Female=her} fate is one of "unknowable void." Sounds intriguing enough to make time for.
Augusta:
So that's it. Too bad. The ship from Ragunna won't dock until tomorrow morning, and we'll be gone by then.
Iuno:
Ugh, what a hassle.
Augusta:
Patience, Iuno. Rover has accepted the invitation, so you'll have plenty of time to meet during the hunt.
Augusta:
Is there something else you want to say?
Iuno:
...
Iuno:
I read Grandma Lillibet's Book of Prophecies. The hunt and our plan... neither end well.
Iuno:
Are you sure... we should go through with this?
Augusta:
Risk does not trouble me. Peril simply requires greater strength. But really, when did you start caring about the Temple's traditions?
Iuno:
...
Iuno:
"O ye faithless of Septimont, the Divinity is enraged. Should your ruler defy Their will again, doom shall be your fate."
Iuno:
Lately I've been hearing murmurs from the nobles again, about the ancient prophecy from Ragunna...
Augusta:
I will admit, those words once carried weight.
Augusta:
But when our ancestors crossed the waters and climbed these hills, Ragunna's "Divinity" didn't get a seat on the ship.
Augusta:
And the Priestesses all said the prophecy was incomplete.
Augusta:
"Only the Hero of Heroes wielding extraordinary power, risen from the dark tides, shall bring eternity to Septimont. Then shall the waters quiet, the tempest still, and glory return with the blood of the old king."
Augusta:
Do not forget, this is the other half of the prophecy.
Augusta:
Fabius, Atilius, Valeria... One after another, these heroes have saved Septimont from the brink of ruin.
Augusta:
As long as a hero stands, no disaster can break this eternal city.
Iuno:
What if… this time is different? What if ruin is our fate?
Augusta:
...
Augusta:
Then I will sever that fate with my blade.
Augusta:
Haha...
Iuno:
What's so amusing?
Augusta:
So the fearless Priestess Iuno can be frightened after all...
Augusta:
But it's fine. If you're afraid, don't push yourself. I can handle this alone.
Augusta:
Most Revered Priestess, wait for me in the Temple. I shall return victorious.
Iuno:
Frightened? Me? If anything, it's you, trying to shut me out and face it alone.
Iuno:
Fine. Go ahead. You'll come back to me sooner or later.
Augusta:
That, I can't deny.
Iuno:
Ha! I knew it. So you do need me for this hunt.
Augusta:
Thank you, Iuno.
Iuno:
...Why are you saying this?
Augusta:
The storm is coming...
Augusta:
Come, Iuno, my friend. The best way to greet a storm... is to walk straight into it.
A girl whose homeland was devastated by the Dark Tide, Augusta, follows Septimont's Gladiators to the city. Her heart yearns to find the power to protect her home, and the crowd's buzz of the Great Agon catches her attention. The girl thinks this path may help her find the strength she is seeking, so she is determined to participate in the Agon. According to the rules, she needs a mentor. With no identity or status, she faces repeated setbacks until she finally finds Cato as her "lifeline." The girl continues to hone her skills, passing the entry trials Cato set for her, and finally makes her first step into the Agon.
Nestor:
Dear guest from afar, do follow me into the near-forgotten stories of Augusta. But simply telling it might be a bit dull.
Nestor:
Perhaps, having the listener become the protagonist of such stories might be a good option.
This should add a more "immersive" touch to the sounds and images you've yet to hear and see.
Nestor:
At this moment, you are Augusta.
You shall relive her past. Face the same choices she once made.
Thus... please forget your name for now.
Nestor:
Of course, Augusta's story is already written.
No matter what choices you'd make, they will not alter our reality.
Nestor:
Yet, be wary. Fate is fickle, and a misstep can lead to a swift end.
Weigh your choices carefully.
Nestor:
Well, then. Let the story begin.
Set aside the complex thoughts,
and let me sing the epic of a young girl—Augusta.
A gentle, warm light begins to blur your vision, and you slowly close your eyes... When it clears, a small, frightened girl clutching a sword stands amidst the ruins.
A group of solemn Septimontian Gladiators stands guard around her.
Gladiator:
"Hey, kid, are you alone?
Don't be afraid. We know what the Dark Tide did to your home,
and we're here to help."
Gladiator:
"You must be hungry. Here, this should be enough to keep you from starving for now."
Gladiator:
"We can take you to Septimont City.
It's not safe here. We don't know when the next disaster will strike.
Staring at these ruins won't change anything."
Gladiator:
"Even if you rebuild these walls a thousand times,
they'll never hold against the Dark Tide.
You don't have the strength to stop it.
Bring your sword and come with us..."
The Gladiators shake their heads and pat your shoulder.
In the end, you chose to leave the village.
The Gladiators' words revealed a bitter truth: you lacked the strength to protect the home you are leaving behind.
In your travels, you...
Following the Gladiators, you arrive in the City of Septimont by ship.
You wave them goodbye after arriving at the central square.
Meanwhile, you notice the square is crowded with citizens.
A poster for the Gladiator's Agon is pinned to a wooden board.
The air is filled with heated chatter about the upcoming match.
Septimontian Onlookers:
"You must know, Septimont reveres strength. Here, only the victor reigns. That is a law older than the city itself."
Septimontian Onlookers:
Eat or be eaten, such is the way of this city. To survive, you'll have to find your bite and seize the crown with your own teeth.
You can't stop thinking about their conversation.
You realize that Gladiators are the very symbol of strength in Septimont.
If there's a way to dominate the arena, maybe you'll find the strength you're looking for...
As you leave, you notice that three words stand out in the incessant chatter: identity, status, and talent.
They seem to be an essential part of gladiating.
Arrogant Septimontian:
"There are always those commoners who view the Agon as mere boring displays of butchery.
But we're hardly entertained by the sight of rats shrieking in the dirt.
What we crave is true magnificence, a warrior who can make roses bloom from blood."
Cold Septimontian:
"Wanna have a little bet on how many mangy rats are gonna try for the Agon this year? Them and their stench be stinking up the place."
Nestor:
You are determined to step onto the arena.
The rules demand a mentor at your back.
Someone to keep death from claiming you on the first day, and perhaps even teach you to see the fight through to the end.
Nestor:
After hitting several dead ends, you eventually come across Cato.
Cato is a retired Gladiator star but takes on few proteges.
Cato:
"So you want to join the Agon, you say? Why don't you start by telling me a little about yourself?"
You recall the discussions about Gladiators—identity, status, and talents. People in the city of Septimont seem to value these more than anything.
You choose to...
Cato:
"The Dark Tide took your home, and you came to Septimont seeking strength. Is that so?
You've got some mettle, but that's not gonna cut it here."
Cato:
"Go home. People like you always show up with nothing but fancy dreams, only to see them crushed and trampled.
I've seen enough of idiots like you."
Cato:
"What now? Still here, are you? You think your stubbornness will change my mind? Pathetic."
Cato:
"Alright then, let's have a duel. Land one strike and you win.
If you manage that, I'll teach you how to be a true Gladiator.
This duel here is your entrance trial."
Blades meet in a sharp clash. Cato moves with practiced ease.
You are quickly defeated.
Cato:
"Strengthless. Do you realize how weak you are?"
Cato:
"Heh, do you really know who you're fighting against?
Can you really best me?
You can't. Now, how do you plan to end this?"
Cato:
"Back for Round two, are we?
Country rats like you sure are as pestering as the city folks say you are, huh?"
Just like last time, you aren't much of a challenge to Cato.
You are swiftly beaten once again.
Cato:
"Go back. This is not your path..."
Cato:
"Too slow, too weak... Your foolish swings only bring smiles to your enemies."
Cato:
"Is that your best? How naive. Well, I guess a rat that lives in the dark is never meant for the sun. Checkmate. You've lost."
Cato:
"Still not ready to give up? Why don't you sell your sword?
It'll get you some food at least."
You stand before Cato again. Dragging your exhausted body, nearly at your limit.
The wind swept up by the blade whispers past,
and you're suddenly home.
Soft sunlight cascades on the great oak's leaves, and you hear your friends' laughter, your parents' gentle calls.
But in the very next breath, a bone-deep chill engulfs you.
That touch, you know it all too well.
Thoughts race across your mind, and your hand instinctively gripped the sword hilt.
You seize the opening and land a hit on Cato.
Cato hands you his sword and turns to leave...
Cato:
"In Septimont's arena, the victor claims the weapon of the defeated, a symbol of conquest. This sword is yours now..."
Cato:
"If you are determined to bite off that crown,
do not fall before you get there.
Augusta, that's your name, isn't it?"
Cato:
"The moment you step into the arena, you will lose this name.
The spectators may brand you with a number, a symbol, or even the name of some wild beast."
Cato:
And only the last one standing has the right to reclaim their true name.
Cato:
"By then, all will be chanting your name—Augusta.
You'll have to conquer their hearts and win their applause even without identity, status, and talents.
Tell me, will I see that day?"
Cato:
Training starts tomorrow. Six sharp. Right here.
The Great Agon draws close as time passes. Besides a mentor, Augusta also needs a sponsor to participate in the Gladiatorial events. Sponsors are mostly nobles and merchants, and for someone with no identity or status, the only place to approach them is the underground arena, where nameless Gladiators are sold like commodities. Realizing she's become the bottom pick, Augusta takes the initiative by offering herself to the nobles and merchants in the audience, only to be met with waves of mockery. An old-school nobleman studies Augusta and offers her a deal: if Augusta manages to pass the three trials he sets, he will become her sponsor.
Nestor:
Dawn breaks with a pale glow. A month has already passed under Cato's training.
And today, the grind continues.
You arrive at the training site.
Repeating the same moves over and over again
has begun to wear on your patience.
You notice some Gladiators training in moves you've never seen before.
You decide to…
You reflect on your training. It was always you alone, facing the wooden post, patching yourself up, over and over.
Days slip by, and the Gladiator's Agon draws near.
Today, Cato will give you one final lesson...
Cato:
"I've done all I can to prepare you. Now, you're on your own."
Cato:
"Here's my final task for you: tell me, why do you want to become a Gladiator? What pulls you through all this training?"
Nestor:
Your ideal has never faltered since you left home:
to be strong enough to protect others.
You meet Cato's gaze, and he reads the answer in your eyes.
In the meantime, a flicker of desire crosses your eyes.
You recall Cato's words from when this all started—
Cato:
"By then, all will be chanting your name—Augusta.
You'll have to conquer their hearts and win their applause even without identity, status, and talents.
Tell me, will I see that day?"
You're aware that sponsors for the Gladiator's Agon are mostly nobles and wealthy merchants, figures beyond your reach, except, perhaps, in the underground arena...
Underground Merchant:
"Hehe. These are all top-of-the-line "merchandise" I got here.
Care to have a look?"
Like products on display, you and a few other Gladiators stand in the middle of the underground arena, scrutinized by nobles and wealthy merchants in the stands.
One by one, those beside you are chosen and escorted away.
The audience cast their eyes in your direction.
However, all you receive is constant laughter in return.
Augusta:
"These laughs... So they really did have a hand in that disaster..."
When the Dark Tide struck, those with power and wealth continued their life of indulgence and luxury.
The might of the Gladiators existed only to serve their desires.
Arrogant Noble:
"Well, well, a village girl with such unremarkable Forte dreaming of power and strength.
I can't remember the last time Septimont had a joke this amusing."
Arrogant Noble:
"What can you offer?
Prancing around like a circus clown and scrambling for your life so we can all have a good laugh?
Or do you think playing innocent will win you favor?"
Arrogant Noble:
"Anyone interested in this one?
After all, watching the weak struggle is always a fine source of entertainment."
Old-school Noble:
"Entertainment, you say... Heh, in Septimont, strength defines worth. We shouldn't be so quick to judge a Gladiator who offers herself."
You turn your view towards the voice.
With heavy steps, a well-dressed old-school noble walks down from the stands towards you.
He smells of rotten stench. It's unlike the smell of rats as the Septimontians had put it, but a foul odor of power and wealth.
Old-school Noble:
"I engage only in profitable ventures. To stand in the arena,
you must prove your worth.
I have three trials for you.
Survive them, and we may speak further, brave young lady."
Augusta accepts the nobleman's trials. The first trial is to slay a Lion Beast corrupted by the Dark Tide. The second trial is to take the swords from one hundred Gladiators... Augusta completes the first two trials through her astonishing will and honed skills. The old-school nobleman is left embarrassed and enraged by this and imposes the final trial—challenge Arsinosa and gain her approval. Augusta knows the nobleman set these trials merely for entertainment, to enjoy the weak struggle, but she has no choice but to accept.
Nestor:
You accept the noble's trials. Though "trials" is too fine a word for something intended only to break you.
Outside the walls of Septimont City lies a wasteland plagued by the Dark Tide, your homeland.
They say a ferocious Lion Beast corrupted by the Dark Tide prowls deep within a cave.
No common blade can cut through its skin.
Your first trial is to slay that beast. The noble, however, decides to strip you of all equipment but a dull sword.
The mountain trail winds like a serpent. Among the charred tree stumps, dozens of bleached skeletons lie scattered.
You suspect you're getting close as you continue forward against the unpleasant smell.
When the first rays of sunlight split the clouds,
the cave reveals itself, breathing death.
Before you get a clear picture of the cave,
a crushing force presses down upon you.
???:
"Shhh, get down! You trying to get yourself killed?
Hold your breath or you'll alert it!"
You turn around and see a hunter.
Just then, a massive beast roars and walks past where you are hiding.
After the Lion Beast has left, you apologize to the hunter. It was thanks to him the beast did not notice you.
Hunter:
"Going by those clothes, you're a Septimont Gladiator, eh?
Heh, I used to be just like you.
Lost a big match, got tossed out by the nobles, and ended up like this. We're nothing but their playthings."
The skills honed for battle are now merely tools for survival. Septimont has abandoned the strength it desperately needs.
You pity such reality.
Hunter:
"Only a madman would go after that lion."
His words are rough, but he eventually tells you everything he knows.
You bid the hunter farewell and make preparations for the hunt.
To gain more knowledge of your "prey," you choose to silently observe the Lion Beast in the following days.
After a few days, you've managed to grasp an overall behavior pattern of the Lion Beast. Thus, you march towards the deep cave.
Deep within the cave's dark embrace, you tread softly.
Then, a sudden dread freezes your steps.
Between the flickering torch flames, a monstrous shape appears: the Lion Beast.
Fire from the nether dances amid its golden mane, while claws like scythes tear wounds in the earth.
As you expected, your sword fails you.
It's ineffective against the lion.
Before you can take a breath, the lion's thunderous roar storms you again.
You decide to...
Augusta:
"No good, can't find an opening...
It's moving faster and reaching further. Can't keep this up."
Augusta:
"If strength alone isn't enough...
Perhaps... I can borrow some help..."
Just before the Lion Beast pounces at you, you slash with all your strength at the stalactite above.
It crashes down into the lion's gaping jaws.
You land on its neck. It lunges to seize you, but your swift dodges force its claws into a deadly knot around its throat.
Seeing your chance, you give a final pull, and the beast strangles itself in a frantic struggle.
The trial has ended, and you drag your exhausted body towards the stream. Clear water cascades down into the mountain valley, and the dense forest slumbers quietly in nature's cradle.
You rinse your blood-stained hands in the water.
The clear stream slowly turns red.
The birds scatter and the fish vanish.
You sense the forest's unease at your presence.
The critters' panic plunges you into reflection. For the first time, you realize that power can instill fear.
With no time to rest, you approach the nobleman again.
He imposes the second trial upon you.
Old-school Noble:
"Killing a mad beast is hardly an achievement. I'm sure you're aware, girl, that all the warriors of Septimont have 'two lives.'"
Old-school Noble:
"One by their parents, and the other by their sword. You may consider the sword in a Gladiator's hand as their 'life' in the arena."
Old-school Noble:
"For your second trial... Bring me one hundred 'lives.'
Yes, prove to me you are worthy of standing in the arena."
To get the "admission pass" for the Agon, you start the second trial.
Day after day, you fight Gladiators of Septimont.
As your reputation grows, so do the spectators.
They don't care who you are, but only want to see when you will fall.
Septimontian Onlookers:
"Look, it's that girl again.
Didn't think she would get as many wins as she did.
Just look at the size of her. How will she even carry those swords?"
You have grown used to this kind of noise.
The deafening cheers numb your fatigue.
Your sword now rests against your opponent's throat.
One by one, the Gladiators you've challenged grow in numbers.
Those you've defeated kneel before you, offering their swords symbolizing their honor with both hands.
Even in Septimont, there's a limit to opponents that prove a challenge to you. Eventually, you will need to seek out tougher challengers.
You have targeted Viktor, a frequent champion of the Agon from one of the noble houses.
Noble's Servant:
"Do you have any idea who Viktor's father is?
His lordship is the largest sponsor of the Agon."
Noble's Servant:
"Power, wealth, those aren't things brute strength can rival.
Viktor has the best mentor, the finest weapon..."
The house behind Viktor comes to you with an offer.
A perfect job and a substantial fortune, if you walk away from the duel.
You reject the bribe without a second thought. Humiliated, the noble's servant spits curses in your face.
Noble's Servant:
"You ignorant country peasant.
Do you know what it means to refuse a noble?
Hmph, then you shall suffer for your arrogance. When the time comes, don't expect any pity as you won't be getting any."
The scion silences the rambling servant and tears up the contract.
Viktor:
"Let's go. There is no point in talking sense into an ignorant fool. Then again, I'd appreciate it if you don't waste too much of my time in the arena."
They throw a bag of Credits as a way to humiliate you, following it up with sarcasm and mocking gestures. They attempt to overwhelm you with their pride.
The day arrives. Viktor accepts your challenge with his honor of nobility as the stake.
You remember well the haughty look he wore but a few days prior.
But the nobles wield only words, not swords. Viktor knows nothing about swordsmanship.
You easily defeat the weak, incompetent scion, and casually lift his pretty helmet with the tip of your sword.
Augusta:
"I have won. And I achieved it without wasting your time.
Do you see? Your gilded lies shatter before real strength!"
The crowd erupts in cheers and applause. The nobles, unable to deny your triumph, lower their heads.
You return to your lodging to count your trophies: ninety-nine swords, ninety-nine opponents defeated.
Now, only one "life" is left to claim...
Most Gladiators have long feared your reputation and dare not challenge you, except one...
Aridel, the rising star of the underground arena.
Unlike you, he was born with powerful Forte. He is undoubtedly the "king" of the arena.
Amidst the endless chanting of the name "Aridel,"
you arrive as promised.
Your opponent's towering physique dwarfs yours, and his crushing presence brings to mind the fearsome Lion Beast.
After several exchanges, you notice something unusual.
The floor is too slippery to gain a foothold,
and Aridel's armor is unusually heavy...
You are all too familiar with the nobles' despicable tricks.
You then shift your pace,
luring Aridel into the very trap meant for you.
After a few more rounds, his steps grow loose, his reactions sluggish.
Your sword stops just before the neck of Septimont's strongest Gladiator. The entire arena falls silent, and almost immediately, the crowd erupts into applause.
Spectators:
"Stab! Stab! Stab..."
Spectators:
"Kill! Kill! Kill..."
Aridel:
(Aridel closes his eyes and accepts his fate)
In front of everyone's watchful eye, you only take Aridel's sword.
You then bow towards the audience before turning to leave.
Spectators:
…
Spectators:
"Live! Live! Live!"
The next day, you arrive before the old-school nobles with one hundred "lives."
Old-school Noble:
"Hmph, Aridel is merely made of Septimontian flesh.
Above him stands a far greater force."
Old-school Noble:
"Your third trial is to earn the blessing of Arsinosa."
Augusta:
"I know Arsinosa. It has never tasted defeat.
People say it's a peak no humans can ever reach. The last wall of Septimont. But..."
Nestor:
It is this insurmountable challenge that stirs the thirst for victory in your blood.
You accept the third trial:
To confront the guardian of Septimont, Arsinosa.
It is the day of the final trial, and the stands are filled with spectators. Everyone is eager to witness how a human will rival the strength of Arsinosa. Augusta looks up as Arsinosa appears. Facing the massive guardian of Septimont, she is unsure when the battle will begin. The moment Arsinosa opens her eyes, she immediately charges towards Augusta, who barely manages to deflect the attack even with her trained reflexes. After several exchanges, Augusta seizes an opportunity to land a strike on Arsinosa, but she is almost at her limit. To Augusta's surprise, Arsinosa halts its attack and bows. The audience erupts with thunderous applause, and the girl is raised to the high platform amidst the cheers. Only then does she realize that after gaining Arsinosa's approval, the people of Septimont will make a special exception for her. Augusta will bypass the Great Agon and be crowned "Champion."
Nestor:
On the eve of the trial, you return to the training grounds once again.
While you wait for Cato, you find yourself standing before the familiar wooden post. It has been your most enduring companion in your pursuit of true strength.
Cato:
"Well? Not particularly an easy path, is it?
Tell me, what did you learn from this path?"
Cato:
"Strength brings conquest. Such is humanity's oldest rule.
Augusta, I'll be there for your last trial,
and I will call your name for all to hear."
Back in your room, you stare blankly at your stacked collection of swords. These trophies symbolize strength and conquest, but how will you show them to the world?
You once heard the tale of a legendary Gladiator.
A warrior who would always fuse their opponent's swords with their own after victory.
Now, you decide to tread the same path and stand before the smithy.
You wish to demonstrate your strength, yet now you still seek to do this with power not of your own...
Watching the blacksmith's hammer rise and fall, an seemingly impractical idea emerges.
—In the end, you use your Forte to fuse all the swords into one.
Your Forte never stood out among Resonators.
But its seemingly insignificant power is enough to be stronger than the forge fire and hammer swings.
The day of the final trial has finally arrived.
You walk to the arena's center with your "newly forged" sword.
The bronze horns blare from atop the twelve stone pillars.
All eyes are on you. Everyone is eager to witness how a human will rival the strength of Arsinosa.
Suddenly, a rumbling roar cut through the noise of the crowd.
The nobles' banners flutter and fall.
A colossal shadow swallows the sunlight around you
Arsinosa appears.
"It's awake!" A noble shrieked.
Arsinosa stands silently opposite you.
Slowly, its eyes open, coldly watching you.
With a sudden sweep of her tail, the Lioness shatters the stone pillar. You roll aside, barely dodging the flying debris. A chill seeps through the tear in the cloth of your left shoulder.
The screams from the stands are soon drowned by the Lioness's roar.
A wave of sound and dust rips past your ears.
You can taste blood on your lips and tongue.
Her second attack comes without warning. You barely have time to react before your sword rises to meet her descending paws.
You manage to withstand Arsinosa's fierce attack, and at the moment it withdraws, seize the opportunity to thrust your blade into the ancient crack in its right foreleg.
Golden blood spills the arena.
Arsinosa ceases her attack, her mane brushing against your bloodstained face before she lowers her head.
The arena shakes with applause.
You hear the crowd chant your name in honor.
Augusta:
"The voices... They are..."
Septimontian Citizen:
"O wise and noble Arsinosa, the mighty guardian of Septimont!
Bestow upon her the crown of courage and strength!"
Septimontian Citizen:
"When the cries of triumph resonate with the earth, we see the fire of humanity blaze across Septimont."
Septimontian Citizen:
"O sun and moon, witness this extraordinary feat!
Witness her epic dedication to Septimont."
As the platform rises, you realize that by earning Arsinosa's blessing, you have been granted a privilege.
You are crowned the Champion without the Great Agon.
Nevertheless, you have already conquered countless Gladiators with your strength.
Under everyone's gaze, glory now bows at your feet.
Nestor:
At last, you stand atop the summit, the "Champion." Only now, with battle-fire cooled in your veins, do your wounds raise their voices in protest.
Nestor:
You have shattered the decaying order with strength. And through strength, you shall reshape new rules.
Nestor:
You shall wield Gladiators' valor on the righteous path. You shall allow no more fragile lives to tremble before death. You shall ensure that your homeland's tragedy will forever be undone...
Nestor:
Yet... should these new rules, forged by might, lose their foundation, will they not fall? A cold whisper of unease coils in your chest...
Nestor:
Well then, no time for pointless pondering now.
Nestor:
From this day forward, your sword, your honor, your two lives, shall serve Septimont!