Limbus Company: The Last Don Quixote

The aftershocks of the Golden Bough tore open a forgotten darkness somewhere. A silver-haired man awakens amid the ruins of an alley on the outskirts of the city, wearing a black-and-red long coat. His memories, however, are completely blank. He remembers neither his name nor La Manchaland, Sancho, or why he once fell into a deep sleep. The only things beside him are a worn copy of the Fixer Magazine and a tattered storybook. From the magazine, he learns of the city’s “heroes.” From the storybook, he learns of a knight’s oath. And so he solemnly misunderstands the age he lives in: he believes Fixers are modern knights, that the weak should be protected and the wicked punished, and that if a windmill looks like a giant, it’s worth charging into battle against. He calls himself Don Quixote. But the city has no intention of going soft just because he dreams. Every commission has a price, justice comes with a penalty for breach of contract, saving someone may hurt someone else, and heroes are merely products in a brochure. When he reveals his ancient, elegant, and terrifying Bloodfiend nature in battle, Bloodfiend hunters, associations, offices, and Golden Bough investigators all turn their attention to him. He wants to become a knight. But perhaps he was once a monster. He has forgotten his sins, but not escaped them. He has taken up a name without knowing that someone else has already inherited it. Sancho, La Manchaland, windmills, fairy tales, blood, and the echoes of the Golden Bough will gradually catch up with him. And this time, the real Don Quixote must understand: a name isn’t property. It’s a dream that lives on because it continues to be told. As long as the windmills keep turning, the knight must keep raising his lance.