Along the way,
Durandal picked up a strange drifting bottle.
It seemed to be a clue left behind by someone who had accidentally entered this place before her.
This is indeed a unique dimension within the Imaginary Space.
Endless histories… they seem to manifest in some bizarre form shaped by one's subconscious.
In any case, given that I've been trapped here for a very long time now… I have to keep writing something, or I fear I'll lose my sanity.
I've noticed certain things that should not exist here—strange entities. Perhaps they are beings that have lost their physical forms, appearing to me in this way.
Maybe everything I'm doing now is nothing more than a gamble with slim odds of success, but… people should at least try one more time.
(…The clues are extremely vague. And the person who left this note clearly encountered problems they couldn't overcome.)
Durandal frowned.
The nature of this space far exceeded her expectations.
Now that she was trapped here… her situation might be even worse than she had imagined.
(At the very least, the direction Genius is pointing to isn't wrong. I'll keep searching.)
She didn't allow herself to grow discouraged,
and continued onward in the direction indicated by Genius.
Soon enough,
another drifting bottle appeared before her.
After using the device to pass through several layers of history and memory, I was once only a single step away from regaining my freedom.
But it was precisely at that final step that I failed—and everything returned to the beginning.
Just like before, I simply couldn't control that kind of power, let alone use it to pass the trial.
If you find this note, then I wish you good luck—don't end up like me, eroding yourself through repeated attempts.
The contents grew harder to comprehend.
Yet the danger hidden between the lines made Durandal even more cautious.
(The final step… a trial… erosion?)
(This place is far more dangerous than it appears.)
After defeating wave after wave of incoming Imaginary beasts,
Durandal opened the third drifting bottle—this one condensed from motes of light.
From my perspective, this should already be my twenty-eighth attempt… yet the arbiter of the trial doesn't seem to acknowledge this at all.
Is it incapable of recognizing such distinctions? Or is it that…
I've eroded to the point where I can warn no longer be individually identified?
…Come to think of it, did I ever truly have a name?
Forget it. Someone trapped here like me has nothing left to lose anyway.
(…517.)
(So this is what "erosion" refers to. Is it because of being trapped here for too long? Or—)
(No. There still isn't enough information to draw a conclusion.)
Continuing along Genius's indicated route,
Durandal soon encountered something unexpected.
(This flower-like object…)
(Is this the "device" mentioned in the bottles? It's hard to associate the two just by appearance.)
(According to the notes, I'm supposed to use it to gradually approach the final arbiter.)
(And as for clues nearby…)
She then noticed a damaged photograph buried in the sand at her feet.
(This was taken at something like… HOMU Land?)
(There doesn't seem to be anything useful left on it.)
(I'll keep it anyway.)
(There don't seem to be any more clues here… I'll have to find a way to activate the device.)
As Durandal activated the mechanism—
When she opened her eyes again,
she found herself standing inside a familiar sanatorium.
"The Sochi Sanatorium… how nostalgic."
Inside the lobby,
Durandal encountered a strange, enormous stuffed doll.
"Hello?"
"Hm? Who are you? I may not have the best memory, but I don't recall seeing you around here."
Durandal briefly introduced herself.
"So then… who are you?"
"As for me? I suppose I'm an awareness that has forgotten both its name and appearance. Tell me—what do I look like to you?"
"…A giant stuffed doll."
"A doll? Let me guess… HOMU? Or maybe HOMU Spicy?"
"…Why don't you just look down at yourself?"
"Sigh. That's because I can't see myself."
The giant doll let out a sigh.
Yet its words made Durandal—and countless viewers—tense up.
An eerie atmosphere spread.
"Because I've completely forgotten my appearance and my name, in this space… forgetting means losing yourself."
[March 7th: This place traps people for a really, really long time… slowly eroding everything they are?!]
[Honkai · Bronya: That's a huge HOMU!!]
[Jean: Forgetting means losing yourself… how terrifying…]
[Venti: Time probably doesn't even flow normally here…]
[Kiana: Forgetting your own appearance… and not even being able to see it… that's awful!]
[Durandal: But… why this sanatorium?]
[Rita: Please be careful, Lady Durandal.]
[Theresa: What a horrifying space…]
[Furina: As long as you come back safely…]
[Hu Tao: This is basically exile to an eternal hell.]
In the chat,
everyone felt deep unease toward this terrifying place.
If someone loses all their memories—
even forgetting who they are and what they look like—
…are they still themselves?
This was nothing short of a hell of oblivion.
On-screen,
the giant doll continued describing its situation in an unsettlingly casual tone.
"When I look at my own body—how should I put it—I just see something half-transparent… like frosted glass?"
"Hey, don't make that face. Once you get used to it, it's actually not that inconvenient."
The doll stretched lazily.
Durandal sighed and took out the notes she'd collected.
"Are these photos and notes… yours?"
The doll stared blankly at the photos and scraps of paper, the large yellow doll image standing out among them.
But when it saw the handwriting—
…it froze.
"This… this is definitely my handwriting. But I'm sorry—about the experiences recorded here… I truly don't remember any of them."
"But if I once left these notes behind… then that at least means I reached the deepest part of this place many times on my own, right?"
"All right! I suddenly feel confident again!"
"Come on—let's find the clues, recover my memories, and discover the path to freedom!"
Its voice brimmed with renewed determination.
Yet countless viewers watched Durandal with lingering concern.
A space capable of erasing everything—
a place that devours memory itself…
Could Durandal escape in time and stop Otto?
And what about Theresa, who had fallen from the sky… what had happened to her?!
Soon after,
as the two continued their search,
they uncovered fragments of memory.
"That sleeping face… I never get tired of looking at it."
A man's voice murmured to himself.
"But it's time to wake up, Kallen—"
"…Hey! That's cheating, Dad! Tickling is unfair!"
A little girl's lively laughter rang out.
"Huh? Have you forgotten already? When you were two or three, I used to wake you up like this all the time."
"And then you'd make me cry, and Mom would drag you away angrily—don't tell me no one ever told you?"
"I-is that so…? I don't really remember…"
The man laughed awkwardly.
"Hehe, let's forget that. Dad's free today for once—how about some morning training together?"
"Then… will you teach me the real Kaslana Gun-Kata?"
"Hm? Are you saying what they teach at school is fake Kaslana Gun-Kata?"
"Hmph! The boring stuff they teach there doesn't even compare to your Forty-Eight Forms!"
"That's where you're wrong, Kallen. Fundamentals are everything. The Sixteen Forms, Twenty-Four Forms, Forty-Eight Forms—they're all just natural extensions of the basics."
"Don't believe me? How about this—we spar. I'll only use the three introductory Kaslana forms, and you can use anything you like. If I lose, I'll teach you all the Kaslana Gun-Kata secrets. Deal?"
"Hmph! You said it! No backing out!"
"Heh. Deal."
The memory fragment faded into darkness.
All viewers were stunned by the name that appeared.
[Silver Wolf: That's… Kallen Kaslana?!]
[March 7th: Kaslana Gun-Kata—so it really is Kallen!!]
[Theresa: How could… Saint Kallen appear here?!]
[Kiana: Why would Kallen's memory fragments be in this space?!]
[Honkai · Himeko: Did Kallen come to this Imaginary Space too?!]
[Ningguang: But historically, Kallen died long ago…]
[Furina: What on earth is going on?!]
Not only was the chat in uproar—
Within the pure white space,
Kallen herself stared at the fragment in a daze.
She didn't know why Durandal had found her memories here.
But she was certain of one thing—
This truly was her childhood memory.
Back when her father was still…
Kallen shook her head, suppressing the sorrow welling up inside her.
What followed was a heavier feeling.
Time passed.
She and her father both left this world.
Only Otto remained—
wandering alone, searching endlessly.
Now, Otto had strayed onto the wrong path.
At this moment, what Kallen wished for wasn't resurrection—
but for Durandal, and Kiana aboard the Hyperion,
to truly stop Otto.
To stop him from destroying the world.
To stop him from sacrificing everything just to revive her.
Kallen did not want to return to life at the cost of the entire world.
Nor did she want Otto to bear such sin and infamy.
He was Otto Apocalypse—
Head of the Apocalypse family,
Overseer of Schicksal.
What he should have done…
was protect humanity, fight the Honkai,
and become a hero.
On-screen,
Durandal pondered the memory.
"This fragment… mentions new names."
"Yes. The little girl was named Kallen, and she trained Kaslana Gun-Kata with her father."
"Do those names mean anything to you?"
"Not really… I can't recall hearing them before. But it's strange—whenever I silently recite 'Kaslana Gun-Kata,' I feel my blood surge."
Durandal's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
She stepped back, drew a circle at her feet,
and within that confined space executed a dazzling sequence of movements.
"—This is Kaslana Gun-Kata: Sixteen Forms, as mentioned in the memory. Does it trigger anything?"
"…It just repeats that feeling of blood surging. Nothing more."
The giant doll shook its head.
Before they could discuss further—
Imaginary beasts flooded into the empty hall!
Durandal snorted coldly.
"Obstacles, huh… that just proves we're on the right path."
"I'll handle this."
She charged forward and swiftly eliminated the enemies.
After the battle,
following the direction the beasts had come from,
the two found the device once more.
"Based on my experience, this type of mechanism should take us to the next space."
"I'm sorry… you've been doing all the work, and I still can't remember anything useful."
"The path we're walking may be one you left behind before. Following it forward—whether or not you recover your memories—I believe it will help you become whole again."
"…You're amazing. You're really good at encouraging yourself and others while staying rational."
"I'm just quoting something someone once told me."
Durandal smiled faintly.
"They said—the meanings of self, humanity, world, and universe can't be measured by results. All life begins from nothing and returns to nothing. But the road beneath our feet at every moment determines the meaning of our lives."
"So even if forgetting the road behind us is regrettable, as long as we remember the direction we're heading, the past will still quietly support us from behind."
"Walking the road beneath your feet… That's a good goal. Not distant—but never easy."
"After all, many people could have gone far… yet ended up like me."
"What are you talking about? Life is about moving forward. Forgetting who you were doesn't mean you lose your future."
Durandal said gently.
The doll seemed moved, its previously dejected demeanor slowly lifting.
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