Last Rite is a Greatsword-wielding striker who deals Cryo DMG.
BASIC ATTACK: An attack with up to 4 sequences that deals Cryo DMG. As the controlled operator, Final Strike also deals 25 Stagger. DIVE ATTACK: Basic attack performed in mid-air becomes a dive attack that deals Cryo DMG to nearby enemies. FINISHER: Basic attack performed near a Staggered enemy becomes a finisher that deals massive Cryo DMG and recovers some SP.
Performs a Hypothermic Perfusion on the controlled operator's weapon and returns some SP. The next Final Strike performed by the currently controlled operator within a certain duration creates Last Rite's Mirages that unleash an additional attack at the target. This attack deals Cryo DMG and applies Cryo Infliction. When the controlled operator is Last Rite herself, casting this battle skill does not reset her basic attack sequence.
COMBO TRIGGER: When an enemy has 3 or more Cryo Infliction stacks. Encases the target enemy in icicles and shatters them to consume all Cryo Infliction stacks of the said enemy. The number of Cryo Infliction stacks consumed determines the amount of Cryo DMG dealt to the said enemy and Ultimate Energy gained by Last Rite.
Last Rite encases herself in frost armor, creates an ice scythe to perform 3 slashes, and gains immunity to all damages while this state is active. Each slash deals massive Cryo DMG. Last Rite can only gain Ultimate Energy from her own battle skills and combo skills.
Assign to Growth Chamber to grant vitrified plant growth rate +20%
Reach E1 to unlock
Assign to Growth Chamber to grant vitrified plant growth rate +30%
Reach E3 to activate
Assign to Reception Room to grant operators a small Clue 7 Rate-UP: Seš'qa (activates upon assignment; effects of the same type cannot stack)
Reach E2 to unlock
Assign to Reception Room to grant operators Clue 7 Rate-UP: Seš'qa (activates upon assignment; effects of the same type cannot stack)
Reach E4 to activate
When the controlled operator with Hypothermic Perfusion performs a Final Strike that hits the enemy, it deals another 20% DMG and 5 Stagger.
Strength +20, Cryo DMG Dealt +10%.
Combo skill Winter's Devourer and ultimate Vigil Services improved: DMG multiplier increased to 1.15 times the original.
Ultimate Vigil Services improved: Ultimate Energy cost -15%.
Battle skill Esoteric Legacy of Seš'qa improved: Amount of SP returned is increased by another 5; Mirage Additional ATK Multiplier is increased to 1.2 times the original.
CODENAME: Last Rite GENDER: Female AUTHENTICATION: Seš'qa DOB: November 12 RACE: Sarkaz [ORIPATHY INFECTION STATUS] Oripathy positive (infected), based on medical examination reports. [INTEGRATED PHYSICAL EXAMINATION] PHYSIOLOGICAL STRENGTH: Excellent COMBAT SKILL: Standard TACTICAL ACUMEN: Normal ORIGINIUM ARTS ASSIMILATION: ■■ DOCUMENT: Records from a Logistics Operator Miss Last Rite accidentally damaged several training machines during testing. From the perspective of the Logistics Division, the scope of damage she inflicted is still within reasonable limits. To put it simply, there are other operators who inflict greater losses during routine inspection. Hence, we wonder if you can help inform Miss Last Rite that there is no need for her to keep delivering handwritten letters of apology to us, or actively avoiding members of our division for that matter. DOCUMENT: A certain log that requires sufficient authority level Adelheid's Originium Arts should only get an [Excellent] rating. However, when this Nachzehrer attempts, bashfully, the manipulation of death, everyone at the scene witnessed a shadowy figure behind the curtain. It felt cold, ancient, grand, and ... serene. It was a discomforting experience though Instructor Maze tried to soothe my concerns... What is Seš'qa trying to hide?
Operator Last Rite (ID name: Adelheid) is a special brand ambassador for Seš'qa. She is now working under the Specialist Tech Division following recommendations from "Bridge Builder" Fleming, senior business consultant of Witching Hour. If this is your first meeting with Last Rite, consider a relaxed and friendly approach. Treat her temporary silence or avoidance with understanding and acceptance. Last Rite is not skilled at dealing with strangers, but attending to the meeting with a few snacks or candies at hand will actively build her trust in you. And please, AVOID getting too close to her when she panics as this is extremely hazardous. If she sees you getting wounded due to the resulting accident, her panic attack will only escalate. — Martin Marvin Malen, Assistant, HR Division, Endfield Industries
"The internship mission was a success. She's far more committed than we thought. The girl literally commands to the letter. Also, can we ask the Business Office to convey this to Seš'qa: Reading ad lines to beasts and Aggeloi doesn't achieve anything." "We are really happy that Operator Last Rite helped clean out the mountain of chores that slowly built itself up over time. But can someone tell her that this is a buffet-style canteen. No one's going to be charged extra for big appetites." "Specialized Emergency Ice Melter Sprays are now available. We got plenty in store, so grab what you need. Now, we know that Last Rite gives off freeze gases when she panics. I guess it'd be nice if you people can stop triggering her panic attacks." "Last Rite is getting on pretty well with the other patients of the rehab center, and she believes that volunteer work can help her with stress relief. Chew on this, people. Why is she feeling stressed, hmm? In any case, do not tell any of our patients that Last Rite is an undertaker. It is unnecessary and we will have a lot of explaining to do if word of this gets out." ...... HR Division Operator Bulletin. The girl was so stressed and embarrassed she inched towards the dustbin to conceal herself. "Relax, girl. Everyone says you're really friendly and easy to get along with."
In the beginning, children at the Den of the Brave always poked fun at Adelheid. No one really knew the girl who lived so far away. She was shy, introverted, dressed in boring clothing, slow to react, and never caught the ball during conversations. "Biggie" Tom started by badmouthing her at every turn. He wanted her out of the children's secret base. But Tom eventually relented because of two reasons: The grown-ups respected the Caprinae couple who adopted Adelheid, and even though she was teary eyed and sniveling, she never forgot about stuffing herself with apple peelings and turnip leaves. Everything changed in that atrocious summer. The rains poured in June, the entire place was flooded, and the bandits were finally evicted after a grueling battle. The ordeal left scars upon five families who lost their loved ones. The unsuspecting children followed the procession to the suburbs, and they saw her atop the hills. Adelheid, except it was not the little crybaby they knew. They saw the girl and her family cleaning out the resting places, cleaning the headstones, and offering elegies to the deceased. It was not until the coffin was laid to rest when the children finally realized that Tom would no longer return to Den of the Brave. Instead of fear, it was panic and denial that spread. The children could not accept the machinations of fate, and failed to figure out a way to make up for the missing position. It was then when Adelheid placed a simple wooden statuette before Tom's grave. It was very roughly carved, crooked, imbalanced, and unpolished. "He always wanted a figurine of a Competition Knight," the girl said. "That would be Tom's final wish." The grown-ups fail to control their tears again. They lamented the death of a life so innocent and young. But the children tried not to laugh as the statuette looked nothing like a Competition Knight. In the end, they bore it no longer and burst out laughing. They took out their Knight Cards and discussed how to make the statuette more knight-like. Although Adelheid failed to follow their conversation and the task of carving the figurine fell to a more dexterous companion, the children would always hand the new and much improved statuette into Adelheid's hands, for she was tasked with leading their own procession into the cemetery and perform the annual ceremony. "Tom is right here," the girl promised every year. No one knew how Adelheid was so certain about this, or how she learned of Tom's wishes. Nobody seemed to care about how she performed her work. In the end, Adelheid did not break her shell. She remained rather inept at expressing herself. Every time her tummy rumbled, she became so embarrassed she would start inching to a nearby dustbin. But whenever new kids arrive in town and start talking about the strange girl humming songs in the bushes, someone would tap them on the shoulder and give them a quite a story.
This was Adelheid's first culture shock. Seš'qa, the Stop, the capital of Witchcraft, the Sarkazian hub, the gathering spot of vagabonds... It was a city of names and she heard plenty of them. However, it was not until she alighted from the dirigible and stepping onto Seš'qa proper when she realized that "flight" was the most insignificant feature of this strange realm. The entire place seemed to be a never-ending stream of carnivals. Riot was engraved into the air itself. The decorative furnace that adorned the central plaza spewed waves of heat, clamor, and tons of laughter. Every street was lined with strange shops and signs. People rubbed shoulders in the crowd, chewing food with names that defy even the most dexterous tongues as they marched for the formation of giant figures looming in the distance — Rumors speak of a fighting arena as well as a fairground featuring Sarkazian culture, meticulously prepared for tourists when Seš'qa made itself available to them. However, the purpose of this administrative divisions seems rather limited when Seš'qa itself was already like a giant theme park. Adelheid's stomach started rumbling again. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to accept that wandering peddler's invitation. She heard about Witching Hour, but she could never afford anything from this manufacturer. She only needed a broom to chase away the beasts back home. Like Seš'qa itself, the concept of proper weapons felt foreign and distant. "But I only flipped a truck toppled by the Aggeloi so it got back on its wheels. Why would anyone recommend me a job opportunity for that?" Adelheid started to wonder. What could she possibly do at this place? The peddler was far away, handling some registration procedure, stringing syllables and words that she could not understand. She suddenly realized that she knew nothing about the Sarkaz, despite being one herself. And is that powerful mercenary a Goliath? A man wore pendants dangling from his sharp ears. Did they mean anything? Everything was new. The peddler explained that her constant sense of hunger was a racial trait as well. But knowing this did not solve the problem. According to Sarkazian standards, her stubborn refusal to "feed" probably made her the one least qualified to talk about the rebellious nature of this city. Her stomach rumbled louder. Every time she felt afraid or helpless, impulse would find its way in and make it harder to control herself. And this was worse than usual. If someone asks, how should she answer? It would be inappopriate to say: "I'm sorry. I just don't feel like being a Nachzehrer." There was still a chance to escape. The peddler's route would pass through a few more towns and villages. She could always apologize later. It would be best to find a place to hide and wait for the constant sideway glances to ease off... "What's happening to you?" The voice jolted her back from her increasingly sticky sense of anxiety. The lad tilted his head, his gaze more curious than confused: "There's free bread over there. Just tell the guard before you grab one. And there's also a pamphlet with a list of jobs. That's free, too." "I ... I'm sorry, I'm actually alright," she tried to get her breathing under control and ease the trembling out of her voice, "I'm just waiting for someone." "Oh. Okay, " the lad sniveled, "But you don't have to worry. Plenty of opportunities here. You'll find something to do. It took me two whole weeks as well." The lad was mature for his age and did not seem to believe in her words. Adelheid thought about it but chose not to argue. His expressions seem to exude strange powers that alleviated her worries. He gave her a pat on the shoulders before blending into a nearby crowd once more. She turned to look. It did not appear like a tourist attraction. Sweaty laborers worked on the scaffold as merchants frowned and wrote out their orders. A few well-dressed individuals flanked by mercenaries walked out of what seemed to be a fancy bistro. Everyone looked busy, yet all of them gave off the same relaxing vibe of that young lad. There were plenty of opportunities and she would figure something out. She saw the lad running towards the mercenaries, shouting angrily as he bundled their weapons. He was like a shepherd trying to herd a flock of giant, half-drunken beasts from their masters into the inn. The lad's tail was short and sharp, reminding her of her foster parents. The girl suddenly remembered the peddler saying something on the dirigible: "We got it to fly because the Sarkaz everywhere were facing difficulties. But when it started flying, we realized that plenty of others are facing hard times, not just the Sarkaz." Before it became a flying city of amusements, Seš'qa was a frontier outpost. Despite being involved with countless legends and serving numerous functions, it was a young outpost facing the unknown in the frontiers where humanity strove to build a new home. Life will always find a way. The outpost does not need to house everyone. It just needs to be "a stop", and that would be enough. And thus, after more than ten minutes of shock and awe, Adelheid began diverting her attention to the streets. Her eyes rested upon a massive pile of roasted stockbeast fillet glistening with grease. It was salty, so salty that it sent her heart racing wildly.
"Why?" The legendary senior business consultant of Seš'qa, one of the lead brand managers of the Witching Hour, the downtrodden Sarkaz merchant, "Bridge Builder" Fleming, was taken aback by this simple question. Though it came right out of the blue, Fleming quickly regained his cool, tidied his tie, and started counting the stars as he readied himself for the banter. The Feline who stood before him always made him tingle with a strange nervousness, ever since that snowy night. "Ahem. First thing first... We genuinely appreciate Endfield's acceptance of Adelheid. Seš'qa hereby extends its most sincere gratitude." "Good. That means you'll pay extra for her additional catering fees. Right?" "Trust me. Sending her to Endfield is considered a loss for our business." "Oh. You have a slogan for Last Rite ... the Princess of the War Court? Very loud and attention grabbing. Must have made you a fortune." Fleming laughed. He usually laughs as a means of dealing with his opponent on the negotiating table. But at this moment, he was laughing to give himself a chance to breathe. M3 paid no attention to Fleming's peculiarities. Her gaze was reserved for Adelheid, seated uncomfortably outside the office — Last Rite herself. Fleming sensed M3's curiosity. He cannot afford to miss the opportunity to regain his initiative. "What do you think of Miss Last Rite?" "I think she's hungry," M3 said without averting her gaze from the girl in question. Fleming tried to remember things. Rumors speak of the Feline's ties with the origins of Kazdel, and she hardly paid this much attention to other talents he recommended. "How could you let such a lovely girl starve?" "I swear..." "I think you need to pay an additional catering fee to Endfield Industries. Maybe we should set this sum to..." "I *SWEAR* this is for the best!" Fleming immediately realized that he had slipped. His opponent was simply trying to muddy the waters... No. She was just having a friendly banter. Why did he suddenly break his composure? "And why is that?" "Ugh... You know, a Nachzehrer in a cemetery with an extreme 'shame of consuming'... She has consistently refused to touch the deaths of others. Her constant hunger is only a natural consequence." "No, no, no... You got it all wrong..." M3 maintained her coy, relaxed tone. But that was not the worst for Fleming. What stressed him out more was the fact that she had not smiled ever since he stepped aboard Dijiang. "You know the Sarkaz. No amount of roasted steak fillets could fill an empty soul." "Soul? You believe in souls?" "Ahem... Every Sarkaz who benefited from the protection of the myriad souls believes in them." "I'm sure the myriad souls will be happy to know that," M3 finally moved her gaze away from the girl. She hesitated, a rare opportunity. But Fleming did not treat this as a good sign, "But the time does not match." "I understand... It took place over a century ago. Nevertheless, Adelheid is definitely a young girl of only seventeen or eighteen years." "Right. So, why?" Fleming kept his bitter smile inside. Nevertheless, he decided to confront this question directly. "I don't know. But like you said ... she remains very hungry." "Even with 'that thing' following her around? That's practically unheard of." That genuinely surprised Fleming, if only a little. "Find it rather astonishing that there are things you have not heard about." Fleming immediately regretted it when those words blurted out of his mouth. Thankfully, M3 was not in the leisurely mood to interpret his verbal mishap as a taunt. "A vast land has perished in her shadow. Millennia-worth of winters heed her beck and call. Yet she remains hungry." "It's the blood. We found other Nachzehrers. So many deaths are birthed upon this planet everyday. We have no desire to see another War Court appear without warning. But ... this child is obviously an exception. She has not been 'fed' because she respects every crew mate, messenger, and soldier who died in the frontiers. She could not bring herself to do it. In fact, she refuses to do it." "Then how did her power..." "'Though she did not consume the dead to strengthen herself, Death remains willing to assist her.' That wendigo friend of yours gave this assessment." "...Nezzsalem would be extremely moved if he were here." "But that also means the child is destined to take on burdens that shouldn't be hers." "I suppose this is the actual reason you recommended her to Endfield." "If Adelheid hopes to take upon a path of her choice, I believe Endfield Industries will be her best instructor." M3 was obviously taken aback. Fleming himself was also stunned by her reaction. He knew that M3 never expected him to give such a ... soft and compassionate answer. However, he also did not expect M3 to had judged him so poorly. It was a depressing realization for the merchant and consultant. "Well, Fleming ... perhaps you are kinder than I thought." Those words allowed Fleming's confidence to return. "And that is also your kindest evaluation of my character for all these years we've known each other, Miss M3." M3 sighed. It would seem she finally allowed herself to relax. "Now, how would you like Endfield to treat her?" "The usual," Fleming smiled from the bottom of his heart for the first time in this dialog. "Let her do what she wants, like a normal child. Let her live, get into trouble, grow up, and earn her keep. It would be wonderful if she gets to make a few friends and discover what she wants out of life..." "Treating her as your own?" "Hah. Me? My blood's too poor for her," Fleming also shifted his gaze to the window. Adelheid was already getting overwhelmed by other Endfield operators trying to start a conversation with her. "But before Talos-II forces humanity to the brink of extinction, before Death completely fashions her bloodied throne, and before the next Sovereign of the Nachzehrers is forced to manifest upon this planet ... she simply remains as a shy little Sarkaz girl."
We're about to leave? Ah, uh ... just wait for me ... a sec...
I remember the Operational Manual said — Oh, I-I'm almost done!
It's ... my turn already?
Last Rite, prepare to strike...! Um... We're attacking, right?
No problem. As long as it's hefty enough.
Wow... I've never seen this model before... Let me t-take another look at the use-user's guide...
I will continue fighting ... in my own way!
KYAAA...! I-I-I'm so sorry! That scene was a little ... terrifying...
Pro ... motion? *Gasp* Really?! F-for me?
Mom ... Dad ... I ... I finally did it...
Acknowledged. I shall forge a path through fire and blood in your name, and shall not falter in the face — Umm... Why are you looking so ... tense?
I realized that I can be a lot more helpful to everyone if I stay. If my contract with Seš'qa expires, you can contact me... O-oh no! I wasn't supposed to say that! Please... Don't tell anyone about this...
Seš'qa liaison, reporting in for duty... My name... I-I mean my codename's Last Rite... Just call me that...
The training must continue. I must master this power...
And I hope that our battles may bring about peace.
Understood! I shall throw in ten times the effort...! No, I mean, one hundred and twenty times!
Endministrator?! H-ho-how are you...?
Need help with anything, Endmin?
I can do this. It's just one line. Yes, be confident! Hey, Endmin...!!! D-d-de-de-dessert's ... g-g-grrr-great today, right?
Oh no ... it's so crowded... W-what if someone comes up to me? I should just go curl up in a crate...
W-wo-would you happen to know where we can report damages? I ... uh ... smashed the training cabin ... again...
Hngh... C-could I lean on you for a sec...? I just need to grab some hardtack... I-I'm okay... Just a little ... hungry...
Personal stereo, omni-toolkit, basic Arts Unit... Ah, it's just a shopping list. These things are really hard to get in my hometown. Thankfully, a few colleagues at the Logistics Office offered to pick them up along the way. They're so nice to me!
Endmin ... can I ... post some flyers in Dijiang? Seš'qa gave me a load of promotional work. If I don't meet my KPI, they'll drag me back for special training...
Endmin, please accept this humble token of my eternal and everlasting g-gratitude! I ... I'm so sorry... I don't know what to say...
This is ... for me...? A-are you really sure, Endmin? Oh gosh... I ... I think I'm ... I think I'm gonna pass out...
Heheheh... Endmin, is it true they have a house made entirely of candy in New Wrankwood? Can I ... get a few days of leave to stay at that place? And don't worry, I'll chew through enough things to get our money's worth! Oh... It's ... it's just an ad?
Dark circles around my eyes? Oh, I'm taking courses on first aid and basic crop disease prevention... so I started sleeping less... But they're really useful! Chopping things to tiny bits with a sword won't fix all our problems! That's definitely a no-no! The only problem is ... lessons on the Arts of Restoration are so hard...
Last Rite. Witching Hour pegged this codename on me. Since I'm a Nachzehrer and worked as an undertaker back home, they wanted a name that "highlighted the product features"... But I'm not the product — it's this outfit! And the last rites are somber ceremonies meant for the departed! Why would they use it in such a laughable manner...? Endmin ... can I ask you to write another letter of protest for me? Please?
People keep joking about me letting myself go "hungry", and I kinda know why. But using my innate Nachzehrer abilities would disturb the dead. The chances are slim, but I forbid it... I haven't figured out everything due to the complexity of our witchcraft. So I chose not to tap into my powers. That is the safest course of action!
There's something I must share with you, Endmin. I don't care what happens after I do. Well, y-you must know that ... that Seš'qa grossly overpackaged me! They just named me "Princess of the Battle Court" without asking! I never wanted to lie to you... I'm truly sorry. Maybe I should just resign — W-wait, you knew this all along?! And you're ... okay with it?
I really wish I could use my blade like the other operators. Everybody's got beautiful sets of stances, hews, and guards. I tried copying their moves but somehow kept throwing my sword away by accident. I guess I can only fight with wild, instinctive swings... Wait. My swings are beautiful too? I ... I don't know about that, but ... I guess that's very kind of you.
Many races do mention some kind of "spirit" that lingers after death. My parents taught me many prayer rituals, and I used to perform every last one of them at the cemetery back home on a daily basis. Hmm? Oh yeah, I've heard of a Sarkaz type called the "Revenants". It was said they could worm themselves into all sorts of carcasses and re-animate them... Wait. Are you trying to tell me a horror story? NAHNAHNAHNAH! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!
Why does everyone play tricks on me? The kids back home either called me "Omnomnom" or "Little Miss Confused". Senior Endfielders also kept giving me funny names. I need to figure out how to look more authoritarian... Oh! I have an idea. I can wear a mask like the Endmin! How do I look if I talk to people with this on? What? It's too scary? Oh... Fine...
I took the operator's standard test. I crushed the fitness part, but the technical stuff ... w-well, let's just say Supervisor Perlica ended up passing me anyway! I've been doing remedial training since then! Oh, and about that old gent who handed me the contract at the floating city... Perlica said he was trying to protect me. I don't really know what she meant, but Perlica is always right!
Seš'qa has always safeguarded the Sarkaz knowledge and devices of witchcraft, but there are so few Nachzehrers on Talos-II. Many warring techniques once passed down through the generations were lost to time. According to our scholars, many Nachzehrers fought upon the battlefields of Terra... and they sustained war itself by absorbing the power of fallen comrades... I don't think we need to do that anymore, right? I have a frigid aura I could barely contain. The frigidity would seep out of me if I'm not careful. Nevertheless, it's a power that I'm ... I'm more comfortable with.
Seš'qamam instructors told me that a proper Nachzehrer uses witchcraft to master the frost. And I wasn't being proper because my frigidity kept seeping out of me. Well, I'm really good at checking my urges to absorb the dead. The downside is that I get hungry easily... No, I'm alright. I burn through food pretty fast. In fact, I've been eating midnight snacks for a while now, but somehow I've still lost weight... Umm, Endmin ... was everyone staring at me just now?
You hardly see outfits like mine? It's a prototyping loadout from the Witching Hour. They want me to wear this during combat to collect some ... uhm ... test data, I guess? But I'm not really good at fighting things. Wonder why they hired me for this... Anyway, this outfit's fabulous! It's light, sturdy, and even dries your hair after a shower! But the user manual for combat mode is a brick of a book, and it's hard to memorize everything...
I remember everyone buried in the cemetery my family tended — the elderly, the unfortunate babe, the mercenary from another town, the stranger with rock disease... Each of them had a final wish. During the rites, those who came to say goodbye would speak those wishes aloud. And beneath their words ... I could feel what the departed truly longed for. They weren't asking anyone to fulfill their wishes — they just wanted to be heard. Remembering their wishes was the only thing I could do. As my Mom said, a wish that lingers behind is proof they once lived.
Witching Hour has to tweak my combat outfit from time to time, so I often make trips to the floating city. When Seš'qa gets far enough from other cities, they retract the touring facilities and the place goes really quiet. The caravaneer who introduced me to Endfield said that Seš'qa roams Talos-II bearing crews of mercenaries and witch-crafters. Their goal is to connect and support Sarkaz communities around the world. But ... if I'm being honest, they feel less like a charity and more like a profiteering venture...
Dad said that the TGCC dug several wells in our old place many years ago. But a senior Endfielder just told me that Endfield was the one that led the entire project! Anyway, quite a few families moved in after we had access to water. After that, the caravaneers began visiting our place. One of them told me I could try my luck at Seš'qa, and that was how I met everyone at Endfield. Maybe this was an act of Fate?
It began when I was still a very little girl. I would occasionally hear a voice talking to me. She sounded tired and exhausted, and probably slept most of the time. None of her children rested in our cemetery. I believe they were further north... And whenever I would go hungry, she would hold me close and comfort me. But in recent years, she slept longer and longer, and sounded even weaker than before. I really hope there's something I can do to help...
I see resources over there... Should we go and collect them?
That looks like something nice... If I'm not seeing things...
My combat outfit is reacting to something. Is there an anomaly over there?
Careful! That enemy looks really powerful!
The Ar-arsenal people ... won't get mad about this, right?
Let me do it. I'm strong.
Woooooww... I've never seen nice things like these...
It's so beautiful... Oh, sorry! I'm done gathering it!
I hope I didn't spill that dirty goop all over the place.
A-an-anyone want something cold to drink? I can make them cold for you...
Let me help you!
I ... I feel better...
Look out! Danger!
Stay awake...! I can't fall here...
Must protect them...
Th-that's ... so cool...
Everyone's so incredible!
Y-you flatter me!
E-everyone made it happen!
Let me take point!
Let's do our best, people!
I hope I didn't break my combat outfit...
Made possible by Seš'qa's latest technology! Ah... I can't break this habit...
W-we all did a good job!
Is everyone okay...? Oh ... feels good to be alive...
I'm so sorry! It-it-it's all my fault! I'll ... I'll fix what went wrong. How about ... we try again?
Last ... swing!
Crush you!
It's a bit cold.
Let the snow freeze.
Frost, heed me.
I'll mop this up!
I'm ready!
Now bite ice!
This will be cold!
Please stop fighting...
You're going down!
Maximum power, activate!
Your grave has been dug!
Uh, any last words?
