That small figure ran all the way, sprinting wildly, trying to escape at all costs.
To escape the ever-present shadow of death.
When Castorice had just personally told her past, the audience didn't feel it that deeply yet.
But after witnessing all of this with their own eyes… that inescapable sense of oppression and heaviness began to linger in their hearts.
Especially the gray, dim filter, the consistently cold and emotionless perspective, and even the faint chanting behind the story, all of it allowed the audience, even through the screen, to touch the softest part of Castorice's heart.
The comments became sparse. Everyone was immersed in the atmosphere.
And on the screen, when the young girl finally stopped running, she had unknowingly arrived at an open field in the wilderness.
It was early spring. Green grass covered the ground, and wildflowers bloomed everywhere.
Life felt as if it was overflowing. She stared at a small wildflower by her feet, crouched down, her gaze tender and full of warmth. Slowly and carefully, she reached out her hand and gently touched the flower.
Her small, gloved hand covered it.
And then, the very moment her fingers brushed the petals, without any surprise, the flower withered at a speed visible to the naked eye.
In that instant, the chanting echoed again.
Seeing the withered flower, Castorice quickly pulled her hand back in fright. Her lips trembled uncontrollably, and tears instantly welled up in her wide eyes.
But in the next second, she bit down and forced the sadness and tears back.
A flame ignited. It engulfed both Castorice and the flower.
Within the fire, only the voice of Elder Amunet could be heard: "Accept death, and walk alongside it."
As the words faded, the flames gradually diminished, eventually turning into three small clusters of fire.
A group of children dressed in the same clothes were holding hands, happily dancing around a bonfire.
Their faces were filled with the purest joy and happiness.
And not far away, beneath a withered tree, Castorice quietly hid there, motionless, staring at the children playing.
After watching for a while, Castorice lowered her head and turned away.
But at that moment, the slightly lively little girl who had appeared when Castorice first entered Aidonia, standing in line at the entrance, appeared here again.
With a smile on her face and no trace of fear, she walked straight up to Castorice and extended a wooden stick in an inviting gesture.
Castorice froze for a moment, then revealed a faint smile.
A pair of hands.
One holding one end of the stick, the other holding the opposite end.
Separated by that piece of wood, the two slowly walked toward the bonfire.
But just before reaching it, Castorice suddenly stopped.
In an instant, the scene cut, leaving only the disappointed girl and the wooden stick fallen on the ground.
No one knew what Castorice was thinking at that moment.
Why did she retreat? Perhaps to protect everyone… Or perhaps… she was afraid of herself.
But no matter what, she was still just a little girl.
A longing for friendship, for connection always existed in her heart.
And so, in the very next moment, in front of a lone burning fireplace, before a mirror, Castorice finally let go of all her burdens.
With her eyes closed, holding a wooden stick in each hand, a pure and sincere smile appeared on her face as she danced along with the flickering flames.
The expression on her face, was full of genuine joy.
Her reflection in the mirror, and the shadow cast on the wall by the firelight, swayed along with her.
And outside the screen, all the emotions the audience had been suppressing were ignited by this scene.
…
: !!!
: I can't hold it in anymore!!
: Wuwu… my nose stung and the tears just fell!
: How can this be so heartbreaking!!
: With no one to accompany her, she can only hold sticks and imitate others dancing.
: With no one to accompany her, she can only hold sticks and imitate others dancing.
: My heart is really breaking.
: She's so young, yet she lives alongside death every day.
: It's so cold… so suffocating!
: Wuwuwuwu… how is this a blessing? This is clearly a damn curse!!
…
The comments flooded past.
Many people didn't even know why this scene made their noses sting.
Her ability to grant death made the audience subconsciously overlook this at first.
Just like the people of Aidonia, most had instinctively regarded her as just a Holy Maiden with the power of death.
The old deer withered in her hands, the elderly found rest in her touch, and those escorted prisoners, even heroes, turned into petals at her fingertips, scattering and returning to death.
The entire portrayal had always been cold, even the filter itself.
Until Castorice ran for the first time. Stopped within a sea of flowers.
At that moment, the look in her eyes wasn't curiosity, nor admiration, it was longing.
Even though the flower still withered in the end, Castorice's lips trembled, almost breaking into tears.
Before this, when facing those who were about to die, under Amunet's guidance, Castorice had always appeared somewhat numb.
Even though every time, she still showed restrained resistance and unwillingness.
But to the audience, it all felt the same.
Until now, this was the first time in this segment that she showed an expression that truly belonged to a "child."
Secretly watching others dance, then dancing with sticks pushed that emotion to its peak.
She had no friends. She could only rely on imagination and imitation, using two wooden sticks to comfort herself, pretending she was accepted, that she was part of the group.
And this wasn't just to ease loneliness. It was also the only safe way she could release herself without harming others.
Castorice couldn't touch life, yet through these actions, she tried her best to construct the feeling of being alive.
And this was exactly the same Castorice the audience saw from the very beginning, always gentle.
Even though she carried the fate of death since childhood, she still longed for life.
So when the audience saw her playing happily by herself like that, they completely broke down.
And the happier Castorice looked, the stronger the contrast of that desolate beauty and coldness became.
When in reality, she had nothing at all…
...
: I really can't take this anymore!
: MiHoYo really just entered their comfort zone here, huh?!
: How did they even come up with a scene like this?!
: I'm done for!
: Holding a stick, dancing alone, accompanied only by her reflection and shadow.
: I never thought my idea of "three people with my shadow" would become this vivid because of this!!
: The person who came up with this scene is insane!!
: This is too tragic!! Ahhh!! This kind of soft, subtle knife cuts the deepest!
: Damn, I won't be able to sleep tonight!
: They even gave Castorice a close-up, her happier she smiles, the sadder it feels!
: Her smile made me cry directly, wuwuwu!
: The music is so tear-inducing too!
: Damn you, MiHoYo! I'm gonna beat you up!!
...
The viewers vented their emotions wildly through the comments.
On the screen, Castorice's dance had already been covered by drifting snow.
In the blink of an eye, it was winter.
In the snow-covered Aidonia, Castorice ran alone across the snowy plain. The heavy snow made every step difficult, and in the end, she collapsed onto the ground.
She fell, but didn't get back up. Instead, she simply looked at her hands.
Those pale, delicate hands had already been frozen red.
Castorice sobbed unwillingly. Such beautiful hands… yet they had become the embodiment of death.
But she had no way to change it. Just like fate, it never gives people a choice.
As the screen faded to black, when the light returned, Castorice had already grown into a graceful young girl.
At the entrance of the Aidonian temple, she put on a cloak and bowed in farewell to the priests.
No one knew what she had gone through while growing up. But… it probably wasn't anything pleasant.
Her expression was calm and composed. She turned and left, without stopping.
In the background, scenes of different murals appeared one after another.
They were all things Castorice had seen and experienced on her journey.
War… Natural disasters… City-states attacking each other, people slaughtering one another.
Wails, screams. Everywhere she looked, it was all suffering.
Those hands that had once granted countless people death… were nothing compared to all this.
Until one dusk, the long-traveled Castorice returned once again.
She stood on that familiar road, gazing from afar at Aidonian temple.
But in her eyes, there was no longer fear. Growing up had also taught her how to hide her emotions.
The next day, in Aidonia's graveyard… Castorice walked there alone, her hand brushing one cold tombstone after another.
In her mind, she still remembered what each of them had been like in life.
Everyone buried here, had been granted release by her own hands. Every single one, Castorice still remembered.
Ironically, only at moments like this could she reach out and touch them.
As she walked, she saw a hunched figure standing ahead.
It was an old woman, leaning on a cane, her hair completely white, her face full of hardship.
She stood before a gravestone, placing down a flower.
It must have been someone dear to her.
When Castorice approached, the old woman heard her footsteps and turned around.
"Is that you... Castorice?" The old woman forced out a smile.
It wasn't particularly pretty, time had carved deeply into her face, but Castorice froze for a moment, seeing the shadow of someone familiar in it.
It was... that little girl who had once reached out to her by the campfire.
Outside the screen, the audience fell silent the moment they realized this.
Time had passed, and even an old acquaintance had aged beyond recognition.
The scene shifted again. A wooden stick, on one end, Castorice's still delicate hand; on the other, a withered hand full of age.
Another memory echoed. The viewers, who had barely recovered, were once again completely shattered.
…
"All of them... have gone."
"heeding Death's summon… crossing into their domain."
"I… must go too."
Across the wooden stick, the old woman held Castorice's hand, chatting about everyday things.
But as she spoke, the topic inevitably returned to death.
Castorice's body trembled slightly. She didn't know how to respond.
The old woman stopped walking and looked at her with a gentle smile.
"I don't fear it, just... I have some regrets."
"Watching people leave this world again and again... it must be lonely for you."
"You must want to desperately embrace them before they go."
Her words were slow, yet they made Castorice panic, causing her to throw the stick away.
In front of this "younger sister," who was now older than her, she revealed a flustered, helpless expression.
Castorice realized her intention.
"I can't..."
She stepped back.
"these hands... they're too cold..."
She didn't know how to describe it, her resistance, her fear, that most detestable thing called death.
All her thoughts turned into jumbled fragments. However, the old woman said nothing.
Still smiling, she firmly held Castorice's hand and pulled her closer.
"But big sister Castorice... your hands are so warm."
"Just like anyone else's."
"So go on, don't hold back, give me a warm hug."
The moment the old woman grasped Castorice's hand, her body began to fade away, purple petals igniting across her form.
At that moment, Castorice looked at the expectation in her eyes.
Just like when she was a child, her lips trembled, and her eyes instantly filled with tears.
But this time, she didn't hold them back. Embrace her… this was the last thing the old woman could do for Castorice.
That warmth, that touch in her hands, made Castorice completely lose control.
She bent down and tightly hugged her. And then… everything collapsed.
All her emotions, all her sorrow, poured out together with her tears. On screen, all sound disappeared.
Only Castorice's sobbing remained.
She buried her face in the old woman's shoulder, crying uncontrollably, her face soaked with tears.
At that moment, the entire scene turned into a pencil sketch.
The little Castorice, outlined in simple lines, was tightly embraced by the girl from her childhood.
And in that instant, all the lines gained color.
In that world made of lines, Castorice was no longer the Holy Maiden.
She was ordinary, normal. Laughing, embracing, and experiencing the world of Amphoreus together with others her age.
Seeing this scene, the audience, already shaken twice before, was shattered once again.
And this time… even more completely.