[Phone: Backdated to before the fifth portal]

I suppose it's only a matter of time before I had to get involved. I doubt many of you are familiar with Second Magic so it was a waste to let you go and explore those portals on your own. [ Quite the charmer, isn't she? ] I plan to visit one myself soon enough and when I do, I'll be sure to figure out what's going on here.

Seven portals though and only three left. It's hard to decide on just one. [ And in typical Tohsaka fashion: ] So I'll go whenever I feel like it. If you wanted to work together, you should know that I do better when I'm on my own. I can't really have someone else slowing me down. Try to understand.

Or don't. It doesn't bother me either way.

[ In a sterner tone, she continues. ] I do have to ask though if there's anyone who could catch me up a bit on the missing holes of history in this town. I've only been here for a little over a year and there's so much that's happened before. With people going off and getting themselves droned before anyone can gather all of the information in a single source... ugh, it really pisses me off.

If you had thought that a charred nuclear hellscape couldn't possibly get any worse, turns out you thought wrong.

The sixth portal is located just a few yards across from the entrance to the Mayfield Dairy. The door to the Dairy is, as always, locked, but those of you who stare long enough at the drawn curtains might notice them fluttering slightly every once in a while- as if there's movement behind them. As if someone is watching.

Even just by glancing at the portal from the Mayfield side, you can tell it makes the desert portal look like a tropical vacation by comparison. The portal opens up to the interior of a ruined schoolhouse, its walls and floor caked with dust and ash. The hallways are bare and desolate, save for the occasional scorch mark. Inside the classrooms you can see small skeletons beneath the desks, curled up as if for warmth.

The world outside the schoolhouse is no better. Not only are the old hazards still here- pockets of intense radiation, air clouded by ash and smoke -but things have apparently deteriorated since your last visit. There are glitch pockets, as expected, but they're not sitting in place anymore: they're moving, slowly at times, quickly at others. And they're not moving at random, either: they'll come straight for you, as if they're hunting...

But glitch pockets aren't the only ones out for your blood. The roaming gangs of cannibal survivors are still here, but they appear to have been as changed as the landscape. Many of them bear the same deformities as the drones of the carnival- multiple or lacking limbs, two bodies fused together, mutated growths spreading up and down their limbs. Many of them are wearing scorched hazmat suits, patched together haphazardly. All of them are armed. None of them are friendly.

The sun hangs high in the sky, but you can barely see it through the thick brown clouds. This is a dead world, and unless you find that memento fast, you're about to become a permanent resident.