Rover faintly remembered that it all began on an utterly ordinary afternoon. At the time, he had just gathered enough food to last him at least another hour.
When he slowly pushed open the door, the myriad facets of life were condensed within this tiny space.
Someone sat quietly in a corner, reading a tattered novel.
Someone called out to a few companions and started a game of rock-paper-scissors.
Someone slowly opened their eyes, their pale lips uttering the last words they would ever speak in this world.
Someone knelt on the ground, their head bowed low, weeping bitterly as they bid farewell to a loved one.
Beyond that, there were others who simply closed their eyes in silence, lying on the floor or leaning against the walls, trying to pass the time in whatever way they could.
Navia, who had just finished her routine check on everyone, suddenly felt her vision darken. Her balance faltered, and she swayed backward—but luckily, Aether reacted swiftly and caught her.
Her haggard expression betrayed how long it had been since she last rested. The sheer exhaustion radiating from her was palpable, even to Rover, who stood some distance away.
"Miss, you must rest now!"
Without another word, Melus helped Navia to a soft bed. She wanted to say something, but the moment her body touched the mattress—a comfort she hadn't felt in so long—her consciousness surrendered before she could resist, plunging her into a deep slumber.
A little girl named Adele tugged at Silver's sleeve, her eyes red and swollen.
"Will Big Sister Navia end up like those people… the ones who close their eyes and never wake up again?"
Silver, who was usually quick with sharp remarks, found himself at a loss for words. How could he explain the concept of death to a child?
"No, Big Sister Navia is just very tired. She'll be fine after some rest."
Florent, the Spina di Rosula's strategist, gave Silver a meaningful look before stepping in to comfort Adele himself.
"Mhm! Big Sister Navia promised me that when I grow up, I can join the Spina di Rosula too."
Florent chuckled softly and patted Adele's head.
But in the girl's blind spot, his gaze shifted toward Navia, filled with quiet worry.
Nearby, Aether silently sharpened his weapon, trying to make it even deadlier. Meanwhile, Paimon animatedly regaled the children with tales of their travels across the four nations—soaring dragons, terrifying Archons, and more. Under Paimon's embellishments, these legendary stories became even more fantastical and mysterious.
But the encroaching silence would not stop spreading just because people did nothing. And despair would not stop growing just because people lowered their expectations.
Rover glanced around. Whether it was the silent Aether or the unconscious Navia, they were not exceptions.
Most people simply stared blankly at the aged ceiling, their hollow eyes devoid of any light—only an unsettling darkness remained.
On this island surrounded by the sea, no one could escape before the floodwaters swallowed them whole.
A deep sense of powerlessness spread through Rover.
He had the strength to fight his way through hordes of Tacet Discords, yet he couldn't save those teetering on the brink of death.
There were many things he could do, but none that could immediately resolve their dire situation.
If the myths were true, then only a select few—Rover among them—would have a ticket to the Ark.
All he could do was shove these overwhelming regrets deep into the recesses of his heart. He believed that one day, he would unleash all this pain and sorrow in one furious outburst.
Rover handed the food to Aether, who accepted it wordlessly before turning toward the storage room.
Beside Navia, a caretaker's log caught his eye. Rover picked it up and flipped through its pages one by one.
[Lady Aquilina has watched over me since I was a child. Unfortunately, when the building collapsed, her arm was crushed. The only option was amputation. In a way, I was the one who took her arm away from her.
I should be the one apologizing, yet every time, she comforts me first—saying that if I hadn't acted decisively, she might have lost her entire life.
Her optimism and relentless struggle make me wonder—why must suffering always fall on people like her?]
[Corolla's lungs have always been weak. It's because she inhaled toxic substances during the frantic escape. Sometimes, she coughs up blood. In severe cases, she vomits clots.
Every time she has a violent coughing fit, I can only stand by helplessly, uselessly handing her tissues.
This feeling of powerlessness has numbed me. Why am I the only one still unharmed?]
[Old Sandino stares at the ceiling all day. Ever since the wound on his arm festered, the pain often wakes him in the middle of the night.
Then he just sits there, dazed. Sometimes, I find him sitting without his coat on, and it worries me sick.
I still remember the silent tears he shed in the dead of night, dripping onto the sheets.]
...
Rover read every page carefully, then set it down, committing each patient's face to memory. He buried the unbearable, indescribable emotions and helplessness deep in his heart.
He would make it right. Just like every other promise he had ever kept.
In the soundless basement, Rover silently made them a vow—he would end all of this. He would unleash the fury and rage that rightfully belonged to them.
...
Even Vision-wielders—those blessed with elemental power—could not remain untouched by this calamity. Unnoticed by most, countless people had begun to change.
Aether, who bore no visible wounds, spoke less and less, often spending entire days in silence.
That once-cheerful young lady now spent her days moving between patients, becoming a silent witness to the fading of life.
Furina, who once adored sweets, now curled up in a corner like a wounded kitten—no longer moving, no longer defending herself. She simply waited, listening to the ebb and flow of the sea, for the final judgment to arrive.
The rains over the Court of Fontaine had grown more frequent lately. Neuvillette gazed into the distance, taking in the endless expanse of gloomy clouds until the shadows swallowed his form entirely.
In the face of this relentless disaster, everyone would be battered by the storm. The floods sweeping across the land would carry away the helpless. What form of resistance could they possibly muster against such despair?
...
A child's crying pierced the silence once more, adding a layer of agitation to the stifling atmosphere.
Rover set aside what he was doing and crouched down, wiping away Adele's tears.
"I… I had a nightmare… I dreamed that all of you would die…"
As she sobbed, Rover held her gently and began humming—a lullaby from a distant world, one that belonged to another time and place.