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While everyone else had quietly shifted their course and mindset, believing they erred not and still pursued Eileen\'s vision...

Only she, pitifully, tragically, ludicrously... charged towards an unreachable endpoint, risking everything, sacrificing all.

This was the only lie told by the Tower of Babel\'s elite to Ravenna, aside from concealing Eileen\'s death—a lie that, upon her learning the truth, led her to ruin.

When she looked up, asking "Who among you still upholds Grandfather\'s vision?" she was met with silence.

—The puppet born from fifteen years of fervor was forsaken by that very fervor.

She received from them the will to change everything, even without witnessing worldly suffering, yet they abandoned the possibility of forging a new world.

"We... Ravenna... don\'t be like this."

The last time Hendrik was nearly driven to despair was when Evora wanted to destroy the Tower of Babel on a whim, and he was almost incoherent:

"It\'s not what we think, not... not giving up, but changing... using... another way to..."

"Create alchemical devices and tools to improve the lives of the commoners... right?"

Ravenna finished Hendrik\'s sentence for him, and then, as if knowing what he would say next, whispered in that ghostly voice:

"Nothing will succeed, in the end, there is only failure."

"Even with Ansel\'s protection, even without extraordinary intervention... it\'s the same."

Ansel... had already shown her.

Shown her the reality that she had never understood and could not change.

The complexity of society\'s essence, the chaos of human hearts and nature, and...

The fact that the whole world was already grotesquely deformed under the distortion of the extraordinary.

Even in absolute fairness, where not even extralegal means could be used, the prosperity of Watson\'s domain came to an end within a mere month.

Humans who hold miracles do not wish to bestow miracles upon all.

They only wish to become the miracle itself.

Everything she wanted to save, devoured the hands that she offered for salvation... Just this alone, she was already unable to resolve. So what about the complexity of human hearts? The complexity of society? And on top of that, the extraordinary that loom over everything?

Nothing can be changed.

The puppet took one last look at everyone in the conference room, taking in their evasive, bewildered, hesitant, and sorrowful expressions, then lowered her head, ceased speaking, and turned to leave.

"Ravenna... wait, wait!"

Ronger, kneeling on the ground, trembled as she reached out to the retreating figure of the petite scholar: "We didn\'t mean to hurt you... we, we can change, we still have time, we—"

"...We?"

Ravenna stopped in her tracks, all her emotions seemed to have been retracted, no, not retracted, but... extinguished.

Extinguished into a gray nothingness. Just like the colorless world reflected in her lightless eyes.

"Here, there is no \'we\'," she said.

"Here, there is no \'me\', no... Ravenna Ziegler."

With those words, the puppet turned and left.

Throughout these days, each isolated incident, if taken singly, would not suffice to shatter Ravenna.

The agony of "betrayal" by elders; the panic of self-nullification; the despair of being unable to alter the course of events; the shaping of one\'s beliefs and ideals; and even the one she revered most sacrificing her—all these could be mended by her near-mad conviction, honed over fifteen years. No matter the hardship, given time and space for thought, she could overcome.

Yet Ravenna was bereft of these things…

— Because Ansel had no intention of granting them.

From the moment he coaxed Ronger to reveal their betrayal of the ideals they held for Eileen, from concrete facts to the abyss of lies, the devil methodically dismantled her self, her ideals more significant than her being… her everything.

Once the seed of self-doubt was planted in Ravenna\'s heart, the chain of destruction commenced, culminating in Eileen\'s chilling "great creation," heralding a… grand finale.

I... do not comprehend why, despite my ignorance of the commoners\' suffering, I persist in my quest to change it all.

It turns out, it was because my grandfather orchestrated everything with his demise, designing my life.

But it matters not, for Hendrik and the others share my pursuit of grandfather\'s ideals; I am not alone.

Ah, but they have relinquished the chase, convinced that grandfather\'s dream is unattainable, believing their methods superior, deeming compromise inconsequential.

Yet... that too is fine. Even if my convictions are sculpted, even if I stand alone in the end, I shall press on, I must.

But... how shall I advance? Where lies the path?

How am I to... change it all?

...I am weary.

If my life is but a design, and within this design, I am deemed expendable, if... if I am oblivious to how to fulfill the very purpose I was designed for.

Then... what am I?

What is the raison d\'être of Ravenna Ziegler?

From within and without, everything about Ravenna Ziegler pointed towards nothingness, solitude, and... utter insignificance, devoid of value.

In the end, even if she swallowed the false bitterness of life, even if she embraced the despair of eternal solitude, the sole anchor she could cling to—turning that pursuit into reality—shattered.

What reason is there for a puppet, unable to even set its own goals, to exist?

Thus, the puppet, stripped of all possibilities, perished in a hell devoid of all hope.

She staggered forward, uncertain of why she was moving, unsure of where to go, merely propelling her legs, merely keeping herself in motion. She didn\'t know how long or how far she had walked until, like a disabled person who had lost control of their limbs, she collapsed face-first onto the ground.

There were no tears, no cries, no shouts of anger—she simply lay there, devoid of any semblance of human vitality.

She was like a doll drained of its energy.

After an indeterminate time, the puppet heard exclamations not far away.

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