"We—we're the Empire's elite. How could we lose to a monster like you!" Garis didn't hear the frost of fear thin across his words as he answered Fulin's claim, rallying his men like a drumbeat in winter air.

Dozens of Earth Tier Celestial Knights—drilled hard, armed to the teeth, drawn tight as a shield wall—when they moved as one, their force rolled like mountains into the sea.

"Haaah—!" Two squads surged, one chasing the other, their battlecry rising like a storm as they rushed Fulin.

An onslaught came for her like sky cracking and earth splitting, a tidal wave of steel and intent.

Fulin only sighed a soft smile, a chill of certainty first, then words like a blade. "Knew you wouldn't die obediently."

"But there are too many of you. Let's thin the herd first."

She lifted a hand. A wave of flame poured toward one squad like a burning tide.

The fire-surge smothered their charge in an instant, a red curtain dropping over them.

Moments later, that squad dissolved in an endless sea of fire, bodies snuffed like lanterns in a gale.

"Impossible! One move!? How is that possible!" The sight made Garis snap, his temper fraying like torn banners.

The second squad didn't falter. Empire's elite, they caught the breath between Fulin's strikes and closed, bold as hounds on a stag.

"Die!" they shouted, blades flashing as they channeled Battle Aura, each man driving his signature technique like a comet's tail.

Facing hundreds of strikes in a single heartbeat, Fulin wouldn't sit and wait to be carved.

She'd meant to end them the same way—fire and peace, a death without pain.

But they came too close. Regret flickered, then her mercy cooled. She’d grant them a death that hurt.

"Come, then…" She murmured, calm as falling snow, and met the press head-on.

Lightning answered her. In a blink, her form became running fire, her movement became quicksilver light.

In time that felt frozen, Fulin's blade fell and fell again, each cut landing like a thunderbolt on steel.

The knights struck froze the instant they were hit, faces locked in masks of agony, statues carved by pain.

In the space between heartbeats, she made them marble and dust. Then, the next heartbeat—

"Scatter."

Her whisper broke the hush. A wild flame roared out like a bursting whirlwind.

It tore through those already shredded by a thousand cuts in an instant, burning them to ash and carrying them off like dry leaves.

Nightmare light flooded the canyon. Empire’s best shattered in a blink. Garis trembled, voice cracking like old ice. "Impossible!! That power… Sky Rank… no… could it be…"

Fulin's gaze found him, far off and fumbling for words.

"All right. That leaves you."

"Y-you—don't even think it!" His own words jerked him awake, fear melting to a fevered shout. "You think you can take me!? I forgot to tell you—I'm an Imperial Knight! An Imperial Dragoon!!"

From another airship that hadn’t gone down, a vast shadow dropped, heavy as a falling mountain.

It landed with the grace of a panther and the weight of a landslide, kicking up a pillar of snow that shot into the blue.

Snow fell back in glittering sheets. Sunlight caught the shadow, and its real shape rose into view.

"Another Gundam, huh…" Fulin breathed, a wry smile like a knife's edge.

"This is the Empire's latest Dragoon! The finest, strongest armor of our order!" Garis was already inside, systems waking like a beast. A war mech, proud and imposing, stood against Fulin.

Riding the Dragoon, Garis gripped a giant sword with an iron hand. His momentum surged like a floodgate opening—unstoppable for a breath.

The Dragoon’s knight declared, voice ringing like a bell. "I'll use Satia's trump card and crush you to dust!"

Compared to the Dragoon, Fulin looked slight, a reed before a storm.

And yet, she knew no fear. Ease first, then challenge. "Perfect."

"Let's use you to test that big fellow's bite."

The Eternal War Armor's chest opened like a blooming flower, and Fulin slipped inside. The plate closed, woman and machine joining like river and bedrock.

Power flared. Light overflowed. Wild flames twined around the frame, flickering like scattered jewels in a dance that never tired.

Seated within, Fulin unlocked every system. The Eternal War Armor roared awake, an ancient dragon shaking off sleep.

Inside the Dragoon, the knight flinched, fear creeping in like cold through armor gaps. "It's a centuries-old antique!!" Garis shouted, denial cracking like thin glass.

"If you're not convinced, come test it," Fulin answered, a smile with teeth.

"Watch me grind you down!!"

"Come."

In this canyon where the sky is a single seam, the theater of iron and steel began.

The ground shook like a drum. Sparks flew like meteors. The air ran hot and restless, dry as kiln-breath. Lightning strobed; thunder bellowed.

Blow by blow, the Dragoon fell behind, its strength fraying like rope under strain.

"Damn it! I'm losing ground!" Garis roared, voice raw. "Satia's ace—less than your antique!?"

"The 'antique' only lacked the right hand to pull its strength," Fulin cut back, her words clean as a forge blade.

"Enough. Time to end it."

She spoke, and the Eternal War Armor brought flame to both hands. In a breath, that fire forged itself into a greatsword, bright as dawn.

Fulin raised the blade high, guiding the Armor like a dancer lifts a partner.

This sword of gathered flame carried Lance's power, and Fulin's belief—

Courage to cross hardship like stepping-stones in a flood.

Tenacity to outlast parting, a pine that keeps its green in snow.

Will that won’t bow to difficulty, a mountain standing against wind.

And a forever yearning for quiet days, a lantern warm behind paper walls.

She poured herself into the blade. Then—

She struck. "Inferno Judgement—!!"

"Aaaaaaah—!!" In a fire that burns forever, Garis screamed, a cry torn from marrow, and vanished with the Dragoon into ash.

The airship crew stared, tongues stolen, eyes like glass in winter.

Only after the fireworks thinned did someone find a voice. "Oh no—the captain lost!!"

The remaining airship wheeled hard, engines howling, trying to flee like a startled stag.

"Don't even think about it…" Fulin whispered, soft as snow, cold as iron.

She drove the Eternal War Armor into a great leap. Thud—she stomped onto the airship, momentum slamming down like a falling boulder.

The craft couldn't bear the weight. It sagged, sinking in the air like a ship taking water.

But Fulin wasn't gentle enough to let it crash on its own.

"Scatter!" she cried. Flames gathered on iron fists. She clenched, drove a punch through the deck, and the fire punched through with it.

In a breath, the airship became a furnace. It couldn't stomach its own heat. It blew apart, unraveling like a flower of sparks.

Fulin guided the Eternal War Armor back to the ground and watched the last bloom of firework fade in the sky.

"It's over," she said under her breath, words meant mostly for herself.

The sheen of flame slid off her like water. Her grown frame shrank, returning to its small, familiar self.

She climbed out of the cockpit, turned in the air, and landed light as a falling petal.

"Yuna," Fulin called.

"I'm fine, Master," Yuna answered, stepping out like a shadow leaving a wall.

While Fulin fought face-to-face, every eye was on her. The Eternal War Armor got a breather and tucked the satchel into a makeshift cave, a secret under ice and stone.

"Is it… really over?" Yuna brushed snow from her sleeves, eyes sweeping the quiet like a wary bird.

"Yes. It's over." Fulin stood alone, her voice flat as a lake at dawn.

"And Shelika…" Yuna looked at the big satchel, at Shelika beside it—sleeping in pose, but with no breath to fog the air.

"Her chapter is past," Fulin said, without joy, without sorrow.

Even so, Fulin's gaze drifted to Shelika's face by accident, drawn like a hand to a warm cup.

She wore a look like endless happiness, calm as spring sunlight on water.

Fulin moved to the body and sat softly, palm to cheek, fingers gentle as silk.

She stroked Shelika's face, long and quiet, watching without turning away, the world narrowed to a single profile.

"Yuna," Fulin asked, eyes on the stillness, emotion first, words second. "Does a girl have to have her own Prince on a white horse?"

"This…" Yuna faltered. Even she found the question thorny, a knot not easy to pick.

Silence held for a few heartbeats, a hush like snowfall.

"Master," Yuna asked in return, careful as walking on ice, "do you want your own Prince?"

Fulin tilted her head, a small vexed motion, then answered like a bell in a simple room. "No. I want a quiet life."

"That makes sense," Yuna sighed, regret and relief braided like smoke.

Fulin gazed at Shelika a few minutes more, the still face reflecting sky-blue calm.

Then she stood. No more words. She lifted a hand and invoked Dual Incarnation upon the body.

Like mist lifting at dawn, Shelika’s form evaporated, turning into paper slips that fluttered like white leaves.

One by one, the slips stuck to Fulin, layering her in a slow, patient wrap.

Piece by piece, they dressed her into Shelika’s likeness, a mirror carved from memory.

A Blood Clan woman, identical to Shelika, lifted her head and looked at the sapphire sky.

"I'll carry your blessing on the road," she murmured, voice like a vow etched in wind. "Let it walk with me, as I go to a world of quiet days."