[begin transmission]

To all YoRHa units currently active on the battlefield.

[00:00 - 00:26]

Intently focus on the task before you. Nothing else is to exist beyond those clearly defined parameters.
The subtle sixteenth notes provide an unconscious impetus to push forward.
Accents on the even beats enumerate the explicit objectives as they are recounted in mind.
Periodically, an electronic stab cuts the steady progression, serving as a reminder of the severe nature of your mission.

[00:26 - 00:54]

An incoming reverse cymbal rush demarcates the transition into the next phase of your attention cycle.
Hyper-focus sets in. Flow state established. There is no room for deviation or distraction at this point.
The mantras chanted in an alien tongue demand just that. There can be no faltering.
To make a mistake in such unfamiliarity and uncertainty could prove, would prove, fatal.

[00:54 - 01:21]

Heavy percussion punctuates the ethereal, alluring chimes of exotic charms.
As if to shake you from losing sight of the objective, but almost too disruptive in their own right.
The point-of-no-return has long since passed. When did that occur? The thought is immediately displaced from mind.
For another percussive barrage accompanied by authoritative strings demands absolute diligence.

[01:21 - 01:45]

What is it exactly that lies ahead?
A horn, severe in tonality warns of imminent cataclysm, somewhere off in the distance.
Meanwhile the difficulty and the chanting is unrelenting, unwavering, infiltrating the conscience.
12H, 11B, 7E, 1D... comrades that did not survive. 
Competent, admirable individuals that met their abrupt, unceremonious end.

[01:45 - 02:15]

Trepidation firmly sets in, coinciding with the crescendo of vocalizations and orchestra.
This is real. This is danger. This is all happening to me. I am fighting a losing battle.
The fear becomes as dizzying as the bows dancing across the strings.
A grand realization of possible, almost certain failure fills your heart heavy with apprehension.

[02:15 - 02:41]

Brief respite amidst the torrent. A soft, lullaby-like piano ostinato offers comfort through concerned tones.
Within their meager consolation you attempt to recompose yourself, reassuring yourself that you will prevail.
Thoughts made subordinate to the devastation that asserts itself before you, as it's powerful second crescendo takes hold.
...4B down.

[02:41 - 02:54]

Companionship proved to be the last bastion against complete and utter despair.
The strings speak for your soul and lend voice to the terrible doubt and lamentations locked inside.
Can I really see this mission through? Am I really capable enough? Are my efforts in vain?
Is the end to all of this anywhere in sight? How much longer must I keep fighting this pointless battle?

[02:54 - 03:01]

Through abject suffering and attrition, a short-lived glimmer of a beautiful thought.
Per angusta ad augusta. Through difficulty to honor.
Amor fati. Love for one's fate. Your tragic disposition will see you through.
Quiet restraint and poise can see you through any outcome, perhaps even bring about grace.

[03:01 - 03:08]

But what makes you so sure that you and your best efforts are deserving of grace?
The misgiving creeps into your mind, underscored by the organ playing in a villainous key.
Strings weep gently for you, as if to bemoan this tragic realization on your behalf.
Afterall, the splendor and elegance of butterflies protect it not from spider webs.

[03:08 - 03:41]

A singular, foolish doll. Adversarial elements too crushing and too plenty to overcome.
Resigned to fate, well-practiced in the act, you mechanically push forward.
It is the only thing you can do. The only thing you know how to do.
Live. Fight. Suffer. Die. The infernal da capo offers not pity nor quiet as it demands repetition once more.

[end transmission]