Unlike before, when capture left the System on a long tether, once Moragus’s people brought Nana back, she plunged into war-prep like steel into a forge.

The System saw her host rarely; across five full winters, she glimpsed her only twice, like a moon between storm clouds.

The first time was outside the walls, when the System shadowed Moragus’s scouts, snow grinding under boots like glass.

Under a snow mountain’s shadow, Nana alone erased a foreign recon unit, a lone wolf in a white wasteland.

White snow ran crimson like spilled wine; torn limbs lay like broken branches; a heap of corpses steamed faintly in the cold.

At the heap’s heart, a blood-soaked girl stood gripping a corpse’s wrist, a red flower in the snow.

She looked darker and colder than before, a lake sealed under ice; the System couldn’t tell what storms she’d crossed.

From that day, a rumor blew through Moragus’s ranks like a north wind: the Snowfield Demon walks.

Moragus entered true war footing, gears clanking like thunder; even the once-free System was pressed into military tasks like a cog set to grind.

The most recent sighting came weeks ago, at a full muster, banners like black waves, breath fogging the air.

Nana carried less gloom, her youth pared away; in its place, the calm the System knew, a mask of frost.

She hadn’t become the Nana Toki the System remembered; time had taught her to be unreadable, like fog hiding deep water.

Moragus granted her the surname Shi, a seal laid like a brand on steel, then asked what reward she wanted.

On her lone contributions, his army’s strength surged like a tide; even enemy courts whispered of Chronos City with winter in their voices.

Beyond Moragus, there was Nana Shi, a name that rode in like a black gale.

“General Shi, I’ve watched your five years of effort,” Moragus said from his throne, voice smooth as oil over stone.

“Diligence earns reward; speak freely,” he added, elbow propped, eyes steady as stars. “If I have what you want, I’ll give it.”

“Your Highness is generous,” Nana’s voice was flat as still water. “I want nothing, save that you keep our bargain.”

“Ha! Of course,” he laughed, bright as struck brass. “I won’t break faith with your friend. Rest easy.”

“If you’re uneasy, take my token to the lab,” his smile curled like a cat in sunlight.

“They’ve got ore forged from the Queen of Time’s scepter, a gold-iron stone like a caged meteor.”

“Make yourself a weapon, if you don’t mind the work; the two Laws of Time in you—bestowed by Shi Qian and that captain—will sing to it.”

“Then I thank Your Highness in advance.” The flicker on Nana’s face was a ripple on ice, gone at once.

Was that for Seven? Had my host bound herself to her that deeply, like roots twined underground?

“Deputy General Ning, what are you thinking?” Moragus’s gaze turned, slow as a turning sun, down to the System below.

“You’re not as glorious as General Shi,” he said, tone light but weighty as iron, “yet you’ve served our nation well.”

“Do you want a reward?”

A reward… what would an outsider do with trinkets, dust on a shelf?

But if I could stand closer to my host, like a moth to its candle, maybe that would be enough.

The System looked toward Nana’s fading silhouette, a line in the snow, and after a few heartbeats answered, voice steady as a drawn bowstring.

“Then assign me under General Shi,” she said, a single stroke of ink on white.

Even now, she hadn’t given up on saving her comatose host in the real world, a ember cupped against the wind.

“You want to serve under General Shi?” Moragus’s curiosity pricked like a thorn. “I can allow it, but give me a reason.”

“A reason? Sure.” The System lifted her head, eyes clear as night ice toward the man on the throne.

“Because General Nana Shi is the woman I want to follow for life.”

Silence fell like snow.

Moragus narrowed his eyes, gaze heavy as a hunting beast; the air thickened like storm before lightning.

The System felt a mountain on her chest, a predator’s breath at her neck, and still she stood.

It passed in a blink, a shadow blown off the sun.

“Good. I grant it,” he said, and the pressure vanished like mist at dawn.

“Our two strongest generals together,” he laughed, a drumbeat rolling, “will crush any foe like dry leaves.”

Paperwork flew like sparrows; the ink was barely dry before orders were in her hand.

The System thought she’d see her host every day; the thought was a hearthfire she kept stoking.

Instead, a month slid by like ice on stone; she didn’t see Nana once.

At the base, she learned Nana’s “army” had been a lone banner for two years, a single blade in a field of spears.

Shock hit like cold water; the missions that needed dozens, even hundreds, had been done by one pair of hands.

Guilt and regret rose like smoke; she was seventeen or eighteen, still a sapling bent in winter wind.

Five years ago, twelve or thirteen, she stepped onto battlefields to keep Seven alive, a child carrying an anvil.

Even with a heart like tempered steel, it must be killing her by inches.

Is there really nothing I can do, no branch to hold out across the flood?

Snow fell as winter settled in; the System walked away from the base, tugging her coat tighter like a second skin.

The walls wore white like old bones; trainees drilled on the square, breath like steam, feet drumming like rain.

If my host had a loyal army, a ring of shields, she could breathe easier, like a swimmer finding shore.

“Um… excuse me?” The voice tugged her back like a quick hook; her thoughts scattered like startled birds.

“W-what is it?” She spun, heart knocking, at the figure in a black coat, bundled like a bear.

“Oh! It really is you, Ningyi.” The voice danced with delight, like bells behind a scarf.

The face was wrapped too tight to read; the sight snagged at the System’s sense like a burr.

“You are…?”

“What, a few years apart and you can’t place a friend’s voice?” The girl peeled back hat and scarf, revealing a bright face like spring sun.

Yan Xiao flashed a playful smile, a fox-tail flick. “Looks like those folks were right. I found you here.”

“Found us?” The System blinked, confusion puddling. “Why were you looking for us?”

And this is a military base, she thought, alarm sparking; how did you even get in here?

“Because we’re friends,” Yan Xiao huffed, cheeks puffed like little buns. “You all ran off and left me in Chronos City.”

“But why haven’t I seen Nana?”

“Ah… Nana… she’s got work,” the System said, skirting truth like thin ice. “She’s not here today.”

“How did you get in, Yan? You know Chronos City is about to go to war. You might end up at the front.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Yan Xiao shivered and rewrapped herself, becoming a muffled bundle again, a walking snowman.

“As long as I’m with Nana, anywhere is fine,” she said, words warm as a pocket.

The System fell silent, a dot of ellipsis in the snow; that sounded exactly like her—stubborn as a pine in wind.

“Besides, Chronos City is my homeland,” Yan said, smile crinkling under the scarf like a hidden crescent.

“Going to war to protect home? That’s pretty cool.”

The System’s heart gave a jump, a fish under ice; that familiar feeling rose like a tide.

“Oh right, you don’t know how I passed the army’s screening.” Yan Xiao dug in her pocket and pressed a badge into Ningyi’s palm.

“Look. This is my ID.”

“Type-01 Anti-Magitech Researcher?” The System stared at the gold badge, as if it burned like a small sun.

Wasn’t that the highest tier in Chronos City, a crest only the peak researchers wore?

And it was Number One.

Her master had said fewer than three people in the whole city held such a badge.

How on earth did Yan Xiao have one?