Forward! Tear them to pieces!
No conserving ammo! Everyone gets a bonus when we win!
Fire!
This will do a number, even on these nutjobs! Pin them behind their cover!
Instructor! Time to pull back!
Take the wounded! I'll cover you!
They can't take any more! Focus fire on that Vulpo with the shield!
Svolach! How dare you use the boss's stash against us!
Avenge Gromov!
The calls for vengeance swell like waves, as thugs rush forward like the tide...
Rosalind can't hold out much longer! We have to help!
Stay hidden. She'll be fine. Everything is going according to plan.
But they have more firepower than we thought. If they got supplies from outside, we—
Calm down... believe in your comrades.
I've served under the greatest tactician across all the lands. We will get out of here.
...Yes, ma'am!
Zima takes a deep breath as the tide approaches, following in hot pursuit of Rosalind's group.
Dur-nar puts up only symbolic resistance before turning and running away. Behind them, the thugs pursue like hungry manglerbeasts, squeezing into the narrow alley barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other.
They do not notice the viscous liquid beneath their feet, nor the unnaturally shut windows above their heads.
The brats are afraid! After them!
The Sixteen Warriors have reached the target location.
Sonya?
Ready, on my mark.
At the end of the alley, Dur-nar suddenly stops her fleeing steps.
She does not look back, only turning sideways and knocking her shield on the ground with a 'thump'.
Group One, Group Two, go!
The windows open at the same time, dropping burning torches and explosives onto the thugs with impressive precision.
Flames climb their flimsy clothing, and the alley is suddenly filled with screams of terror.
Circle them from the sides! Avoid the flames in the middle!
It's our turn now!
Countless figures emerge from the shadows, from underneath the shattered windows, from behind the overflowing trash cans.
Wielding pipes, spanners, and assorted weapons confiscated from Gromov's stash, they charge at their former oppressors with a roar.
Some wear school uniforms of various degrees of refinement, others wear old cotton coats, but all are wearing the same 'uniform' now.
On all their chests, painted in oil pigment, is a prominent symbol—a clenched fist, once raised simply to survive, now tightened to break its chains.
Ura—
Angry fists meet the thugs attempting to flee the siege in the alley.
One by one, the erstwhile jailers fall to the angry prisoners they have berated and persecuted.
Zima walks over the weapons on the ground to the head of the formation, gazing at the fleeing backs of their foes.
Medics, care for the wounded. The rest of you, we push forward.
Instructor, Rosalind, take some time to catch your breath.
I'm fine, Sonya! Let me—
Zima walks towards her with a smile that permits no question or doubt. She extends her fist.
After a moment of hesitation, Leto nods and lifts her right hand, knocking it firmly against the offered fist.
(Whispers) Good work, General Leto. See you later.
......
Follow me, comrades!
Victory is before us. Do not let your guard down—
Sonya, they're pulling back to their lines and firing.
Take cover and assess their firepower.
Yes, ma'am.
They have reserves, General! Our right flank is pinned down!
I'm coming to help!
...Huh?
I'm going back out there once the bleeding is stanched, and I won't let anybody stop me.
Don't force it, Leto.
It's just a few scratches... hey!
Gummy?! What are you doing—
Shh! Don't let Zima hear you, it'll distract her.
I wanted to help, so I asked Lyudmila to bring me along.
She even got some people to help us out.
Lyudmila? She's here too?
A group appeared ahead.
It is as though they just crawled out from underground; few in number, they nevertheless charge at the thugs on the right flank without hesitation, and soon their greasy clothes are stained with blood.
You're mine, svolotsch!
Ura—
We are not the only ones fighting against Pavlovich and oppression...
Explosion? From behind enemy lines... must be the Unbound.
Antosha and his comrades are bleeding! Forward, friends!
The boys can't hold them! We need to fall back!
Shit, shit, shit! That's their 'support'? A few shots and a fart?
Hui! Ten days ago those nobles were fighting each other to kiss my boots! How did it come to this?
It's time to go, magistrate!
We'll be taken prisoner if we stay!
Set a fire and go up the walls.
The duke, no, Ursus will save me. I must fight to the bitter end.
I will take these zasranets down with me, if I have to!
I made a round. It looks like the rest of them have retreated up the wall.
I'm back, Sonya! We've brought the explosives from behind. This is the right occasion for it.
But the walls are tough, and we need to put out the fire and collect the explosives that they didn't remove.
It'll take a lot of time...
We'll put out the fire first, then worry about the rest. Watch me—
...Sonya?
Hah.... hah....
Wh-Why don't you come in?
Sir... I understand your resolve.
But the walls are tough, and they haven't gained entry.
Can you put down the match? At least don't point it at the fuse—
Never!
...What about the people that Captain brought?
They seem to be struggling. We have not heard from them.
Sir, we cannot wait any longer! Hit that comm button and call in fire support!
No! What do you know?! I... I can't end up like that. I'd rather—
What's this sound? What are they doing?
Where are you going, Sonya? Come back!
That's where the statue of Igor is, but the fire hasn't—
The swing of the massive hamaxe shatters the ground, sending burning grease and debris flying with the shockwave, and brutally ejecting the air itself from the area.
Denied oxygen, the flames are stemmed for a moment, before being quenched by the stirring dust.
I see...
She steps forward and puts her boot on the ash where flames had burned a moment ago.
One strike, two strikes... sparks fall upon her hair and shoulders, as she continues to slam the burning earth, as though trying to forge a path where none existed.
Maybe toppling the statue in the direction of the wall will bash the gate open...
People start to gather behind her, following her to the end of this flame-forged path—
The statue of Igor Velikiy stands next to the gate of the quarantine zone, gazing down at the last corner of Grypherburg, and at the bearer of the hamaxe.
The young leader walks toward the thousand-year-old giant, whose stony head wears a golden crown of sunlight, the emperor admiring the centuries of creation and suffering that he began.
She clutches her hamaxe. Every breath she takes seems to be the roaring furnace...
Hrrah—
She raises her arm, for the voices trapped in her throat, and a gushing crack appears in the marble pedestal.
......
Follow Sonya!
Smash it, topple it! Grypherburg lies before us!
Here I come!
She brings the hamaxe down again, for those dreams frozen in the winter night. Cobweb-like cracks spread through the empire's foundation, and the illusion of grandeur begins to wail.
Look at the cracks! It's buckling!
Don't just stand there, Fedya! Give us a hand!
......
He peers up at the statue, once awe-inspiring, now trembling and teetering, his heart trembling along with the sound of every hit.
He cannot help but put his hand on the statue too. He hears the cries of young people all around him, feels the warmth of their shoulders rubbing against his.
Ura—
......
Magistrate!
Gosudar-batyushka—
Igor's pieces come thundering down on his head as he mutters his last words.
The dust has yet to settle. A bright ray of light shines in.
Someone's running! More Sixteen Warriors ahead!
Get them! Make them pay for their crimes!
For Ursus!
Igor's sword falls upon the wall, the authority wrought from stone shattered to pieces.
Igor's fist smashes the shackles. One figure climbs over the ruins, then a dozen, a hundred...
Zima's speech last night echoes in their minds.
...They told us to be ordinary.
Did they tell you that you would have bread and butter if you cut out your tongue?
Did they tell you that you would have a pardon if you shattered your kneecaps?
Did they tell you to polish your plaques and medals with your comrades' blood?
How easy it would be to enter the dustbin of history, the trampled weeds that feed the soil...
But no, we say.
We chose kindness and honesty. We chose to brave the storm and suffering, because we are protecting ourselves, protecting everyone who deserves a future.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more—
For all the children of Ursus who will not kneel!
The red sweeps the earth like lava breaking through a dam.
The Ursine students burst forth from the pale, frozen soil.
I, I was the only one who made it out alive. Everyone else—
(Sobs)
That's the fourth one to describe the battle... why do they all sound the same?
Don't expect too much of Pavlovich's thugs. I think the captain's soldiers will be more useful.
Keep your emotions in check, sir. The committee needs more details.
Captain Chicherin has... fallen honorably. However, you say you are aware of the Captain's exploits in battle?
Yes.
They, they killed almost all of the traitors, but most of them died in the explosion and the collapse—
Liar!
You didn't see anything that happened!
...Police, remove the child from the room.
We've done an inventory check, General. We need to leave soon.
...How many casualties this time?
Medic team's still counting... not everyone made it.
......
What about the Unbound?
......
Sonya. Rosalind.
Antosha?
Where are the others?
We ran into a company of Ursus Guards while assaulting their rear.
Take this and press it against your chest. You'll be fine.
Mm...
Is it so late already, Matvey... it's dark...
The cold winter wind blows past, freezing the mud on her young face.
Yeah.
They're well-equipped. We can't keep this up. Antosha—
Antosha! Come back!
Antosha charges forward, an Originium bomb in his arms. A bolt whistles past, and his left leg buckles, causing him to fall in the mud.
Almost—
Footsteps approach like the beating of drums. Before he can react, a firm hand has snatched the Originium bomb from him.
Remember, Antosha?
I'm the nimblest amongst us.
!
Raise your weapons, svoloch! You will not kill freedom—
The Unbounded defeated them all...
Then, Matvey—
......
No... no...
......
We're alive because of him. Because of all of you...
I'll find him and the others before we leave and say a proper goodbye, Antosha. I—
No. Say no more.
There is one more thing that you must do.
You must defeat me.
What?!
You killed Pavlovich in order to walk out those gates.
Because you knew he was guilty, the persecutor of all who dwelled within Katorga...
Then why didn't you see the crimes of Pavalo, the crimes of the Ursine nobility?
People like him, the nobles who are even worse, and this 'Emperor' Fyodor, all throw their weight about in this miserable hole.
They watch as common folk bleed... they live off the rot, not a worry on their minds.
Think about our magistrate beneath the rubble. His pathetic life finally gave back to the oppressed at the moment of his death.
Their destruction brings the answer I seek, the total destruction of Ursus.
You're judging everybody, justifying execution by their status.
Wrecking things is just a means to an end. Sometimes it can be useful, but it's pointless if it doesn't unite people.
This again, this talk of flexibility, of taking stock of the situation...
Today, you leave them, their corrupt thoughts and methods to linger. Tomorrow, their 'better life' will claim your friends, and your successors.
And you think death and destruction can get rid of the corrupt thoughts, and wipe out all injustice overnight?
For the sake of a prophecy that hasn't even come to pass, we're not to unite and protect ourselves, but instead send our pure hearts to face the guns and warships of Ursus?
Enough talk, Sonya.
Since when did you pick up lecturing... we shall fight.
You're hurt really bad.
Pave the path to your new order with my dead body.
No.
Do you really think this is how you make your dreams come true...?
Or do you just want a poetic death because you saw your friends die?
......
I know how hard it is to be the only one left... but Antosha—
You're always talking up the value of destruction. You think that if I kill you, it will lay the foundation for some kind of future.
And I'm not about to go along with that stupid idea. Taking a life doesn't add anything to a dream.
I have to go find my comrades...
Wait, Sonya, don't go—
...Stop!
Do you think you're the only one who mourns the Unbound?
No!
Don't hurt them any more...
Enough is enough.
Your dreams, and maybe even you yourself...
It's all the meaning of their sacrifice.
......
That taste of rusty iron again. It is the second time that he has tasted such regret today.
What are you doing? Let me in!
Rosalind? Why...
This was the fastest way.
We also needed time to bury our friends.
Ukusik...
Antosha! I'm here!
You're bleeding! I'll wrap you up...
You don't know yet...
Know what?
I woke up in Sonya's camp. They said Matvey brought me here last night.
......
Do you still have the letters?
Your Majesty! Your Imperial Majesty!
You must have suffered such a fright! We summoned the Imperial Guard as soon as we heard—
Really? To do what?
To purge the traitors, of course!
Traitors, you say. Which traitors?
You mean...?
Your Imperial Majesty!
Witte?
We can discuss at the palace.
A car is waiting for Your Majesty.
Fyodor can see the red velvet in the black car parked a short distance away, even seems to smell the familiar aroma.
He pauses, then keeps walking.
Tell me, Witte.
Is that fire the culmination of all that we achieved over the last twenty years?
How did it come to this...?
......
Chairman, we can't let the people see His Imperial Majesty like this!
Let him go.
It is his wish...
Fyodor has lived in this city for decades. Now, for the first time, he walks its streets on his own two feet.
The snow falls upon him, equally cold in the ruins as it is in the palace.