The accompanying personnel could feel countless eyes staring at him—eyes filled with a certain expectation, as if trying to find something in him. Perhaps hoping that the Tacet Discords outside had decreased, or that he had brought new reinforcements or supplies.
As long as… he wasn't just here to take refuge.
But the more people wished to avoid something in their hearts, the more likely it was to happen in reality. Disappointment quietly spread amidst the silence, occupying the same cold, damp basement alongside them.
Rover settled the people he had rescued, ignoring the resentful glances directed at him, and walked straight toward the depths—into an empty room.
He knew all too well—the more people there were, the more mouths there were to feed, further accelerating the consumption of their already scarce resources.
"There are no more traces of human activity around Poisson."
The Shorekeeper gently reminded him. Rover only responded with a quiet "Hmm," staring at her for a long while before finally speaking.
"Abby told me that this world doesn't have the conditions for The Lament to emerge. So… where did The Lament come from?"
His tone sounded like a question, but the Shorekeeper could clearly sense that he already had a guess.
"I have a possibility in mind. I need to leave for a while."
Rover nodded and reached out his hand. The Shorekeeper was taken aback for a moment before extending hers as well.
Even though the girl before him existed only as a virtual projection, Rover still followed the rules of reality, as if truly holding her hand.
"Promise me… you'll come back alive."
The Shorekeeper gave a faint smile. Under the witness of both, a promise was sealed in the simplest of ways.
"You too."
...
"Still no communication. It's been days since we last got through."
Aether glanced at the people in the basement, most of whom were asleep, deliberately lowering his voice. Paimon quietly pointed at the neatly stacked supplies.
"According to Navia's estimates, the supplies we brought this time can last for five days."
Aether wanted to say more, but noticing slight movement nearby, he thought for a moment and gave Rover a meaningful look. Rover immediately understood.
"Just as Abby predicted a few days ago, the Tacet Discord tide is sweeping across the other end of this island in an unbelievable trajectory. Soon, it'll probably return here."
Rover realized the severity of the situation. His eyes fell on the heavily marked red calendar on the stained wall.
He raised his hand, and the Tacet Mark on his hand began to vibrate as Abby emerged.
"Can you confirm with absolute certainty that it'll sweep through here?"
Abby shook his head—he could only say there was a chance.
But Rover couldn't take that gamble. Based on the timing, the tide was about to rise. If the Tacet Discord tide passed through here, the residents wouldn't be able to evacuate. And once the Primordial Seawater arrived, this basement would become their watery grave.
"Seems like we'll have to make plans soon…"
As soon as Rover finished speaking, the crowd not far away erupted into commotion again.
"Another kid!?"
The leading resident stood up, blocking the child's path.
"Where are you from?"
The boy pursed his lips. His body was covered in blood, and the thick scent of iron quickly filled the enclosed basement. No one paid much attention to the smell—after all, the cramped basement already reeked. They were used to it.
"From the Court of Fontaine…"
Before he could finish, the crowd burst into murmurs. Finally, after about ten days of being cut off, they had received news from the capital.
"What's the situation there?"
Under the crowd's intense gaze, the boy shrank back slightly. But soon, he recounted everything he had seen and heard along the way.
When they heard that the Court of Fontaine was surrounded by the Primordial Seawater and would eventually be completely submerged, they realized that the government's collapse was only a matter of time.
The despairing news the boy brought only made the people more resigned. Their eyes had long been devoid of hope—such news only pushed them further into the abyss of darkness.
"How many supplies did you bring?"
That one question instantly made the boy panic. The crowd froze in an instant of silence, their scrutinizing eyes sweeping over him from head to toe. A grim expression slowly crept onto their faces.
"Hmph."
Someone snorted coldly, redirecting their dissatisfaction toward Rover's group.
It was unclear whether their anger was directed at the new mouth to feed or at the Vision-wielders for withholding information. But that single snort ignited the emotions of every resident present.
"I heard they don't tell us some things because it'll only make us more hopeless…"
As the crowd grew restless, a few rational voices poured cold water on the situation, calming everyone down.
"And staying here isn't hopeless enough!?"
One resident spat out bitterly, his sharp gaze landing on the groaning patients in the distant sickroom.
Those sounds haunted their ears every day, like a dirge of death, ushering them prematurely toward their graves.
"If the situation improves, we'll definitely inform you. Please don't panic, and don't act rashly!"
The crowd wanted to argue, but the leading resident gestured for them to quiet down.
"At the very least, they've given us shelter and supplies. That's a fact. Without them, we'd all be dead by now."
Like a pebble dropped into water, it only caused a small ripple before the surface settled back into stillness.
The hungry crowd fell silent. No one raised any more objections. The anger and unease were swallowed back down into their hearts.
Navia gave a grateful glance before turning her attention to the new arrival.
"What's your name?"
She gently smoothed his disheveled hair, crouching down to pat his shoulder reassuringly.
"Vel… ly…"
After some conversation, Navia learned that Velly had originally been staying in the Court of Fontaine. But upon hearing that the city would eventually be swallowed by the endless rising tides, he chose to escape.
After a long and arduous journey, he hid inside a supply transport—specifically, inside the cargo box of the accompanying personnel—and followed Rover's trail here.
Rover watched all of this unfold. This shelter saw incidents like this every day.
Emotions always leaked out in these trying times. In the end, venting was better than bottling it all up.
Rover didn't mind. In fact, he was the one who wanted to vent the most—the one who most desperately wished to end this Lament.
But he knew that if he let his emotions out, it wouldn't be something the residents could handle. He had to weigh the pros and cons.
Suddenly, he felt suffocated. He walked outside and sat atop a collapsed ruin.
The warm sunlight hadn't visited this place in a long time. Only the endless drizzle and the biting cold continued to patter against the ground. The damp air seeped relentlessly into the earth, and even steel barriers couldn't stop the oppressive chill from making the underground crowd feel even more stifled.
The mist before him carried Rover's thoughts far away—back to when he first arrived in Fontaine and gazed into the depths of the sea.
A sudden thought struck him:
When the great flood submerged Atlantis, how did those people face the impending disaster?
Did they bury themselves in the depths with despair?
Or did they stubbornly cling to their feeble sparks of life, burning to the very end?