Clain is helpless behind a clear wall as Barrot details Phryne’s role in the system, but the priest’s demented rant is cut short. As the temple begins to collapse and Nessa starts to fade, the future of Fractale—and all of mankind—lies in Phryne’s hands.
Excuse me... some soil got 
stuck in my finger nails and...
...عذرًا... علق بعض التراب بأظافري و
Äh … Ich habe Dreck
unter meinen Nägeln.
J’ai de la terre sous les ongles…