Do you hear the music? It is a concerto resonating with countless individuals' emotions—we play distinctly solo, yet as a harmonious whole. What a magnificent possibility.

The Tower of Revelations, the Notarial Hall, the Sunset Chapel, and finally, the chapel square—the halos over our heads are extinguished, yet the city remains illuminated as always. Please hold here, Sankta. And tell me, is Laterano not more connected to the rest of this great land, and less dissimilar?

The Sarkaz are singing, and the Sankta play the accompaniment—who is this funérailles for, you ask? The nomadic monastery guides everyone it receives back to their homes, irrespective of life or death, irrespective of race or identity. Join in the chorus, and speak no more of this meaningless question.

What is that vast, deep-blue expanse? The ocean, or the distant cosmos? Is it your origin, or your destination? Is it 'evolution', or the sum of all perfection and imperfection that you've carved throughout this process? You Many, is this your true voice? Life deserves a voice.

I am listening... Fear and trauma persist nevertheless, but the strong will overcome them, while the weak find their own ways to fight—with no need to follow a Pope or a Lord of Fiends. In the face of 'calamity', all will play their own songs.

Are these possibilities inherent within 'empathy'? It has no personality, yet is able to suppress and manipulate human emotion—why did It ultimately choose to build a mechanism as singular as 'empathy' for the Sankta...? The music... why has it fallen silent?

Yulia, the Witch King, Cora, Emmanuel... The audience will forever remember the sound of this cello. Do you still recall her words when your mother first taught you to play this instrument gifted by your father? 'Arturia, Mamma wishes you the most peaceful sleep, every single night.'

While 'Calamity' and the gathered crowds are both distant, a Sankta sounds lonely strings in this deserted monastery—is this to be my end...? Arturia, would you acknowledge life's meaning, even in its fleeting nature, if you were to return to that rain-soaked cemetery?

Doctor, can you believe Fede is still asleep? Now, here I am with my cello, and here you are in front of me—it would be a shame for you to miss what I've just experienced. Give me your hand—Yes, right on this string. Let's create this harmony together.

How beautiful... Humans are both the afterglow, and the sky that harbors it.

I'm connected... This is the Movement that does not yet exist.

Not a single note shall fade.

The future I envisioned has been set in stone, Doctor. It simply has not been elucidated yet, which is why I shall move towards it.

In that future, we are each other's audience.

If the musical movement were not inherently prescribed, why do we adhere so rigidly to its interpretation?

A single cloud among countless others, dances with the wind and descends with the rain.

We advance to every last corner of Terra.

Won't you open? 'Tis a visitor rapping at your heart chamber door—

Let us lift our instruments.

Let us hearken.

Behold, the symphony of countless voices.

Behold, the consonance of innumerable souls.

Play towards the setting sun.

Sing with the cosmos.

Embrace the regrets, if you have any.

Feel each other, to your hearts' content.

We are unforgettable.

We stand side by side. No calamity or unknown shall shake us.

Joy, fluke, or mourning? We accept it all, so long as it is sincere.

Doctor, I have awoken.

Listen to the breeze in the corridors. This vessel has its own true voice as well. What of yourself?

Doctor? You have a pretty good sense of rhythm. 'Calamity' will not strike so soon, meaning you still have time to pick up a percussion instrument.

What are you trying to do? Even if I am not allowed to play, I can still make music resound within your mindscape.

Arknights.

Happy New Year, Doctor! We can create a moment of shared emotion simply by circling an ordinary date on the calendar—look, people have always possessed the potential for 'empathy'. Though it is a far cry from the grandeur of the Movement, I am now fully convinced of its existence.

Since music cannot supersede language, Doctor, there's still a lot for the two of us to talk about.

Doctor... did you already listen to the entire piece behind my back? Though it was but an impromptu session, it contained all the thoughts I had while waiting for you, as well as the emotions that should be expressed no other day but today. Since you didn't miss it, tell me—what did you hear from it?

Doctor, the possibilities that Fede and I perceive differ entirely, but the constant is that you remain here at Rhodes Island. If you are the single leitmotif that remains unchanged across countless variations... how could I bear to stray too far from you?