Morning to evening, swift as thought.
Step step～
The bustling deck had been cleaned to a spotless shine, its smooth floor reflecting a pair of equisite, toned legs clad in high-heeled military boots. Draped over the figure’s shoulder was a cloak—black on the outside, cyan within—with both sleeves trimd in matching blue.
Dressed in the black-and-gold uniform of the Immortal Blade, Durandal gazed intently at the beam of light slowly materializing on the warp teleportation platform within the battleship’s core.
A peculiar silver-gray brilliance flashed across the chamber as several figures of varying heights gradually appeared.
"Durandal, you move fast. I almost didn’t catch up."
Tap.
Watching as a tall, gray-haired, blue-eyed beauty descended the steps—her presence commanding yet calm—flanked by several auxiliary officers and adjutants, Durandal straightened her cap and strode forward with bright enthusiasm.
"I owe that to your star map. And you’re not late at all."
"Senior Fu Hua, thank you for coming to our aid. Welco aboard."
Her joy was sincere.
As both host and commander of this expeditionary fleet—and as Fu Hua’s friend—Durandal was genuinely glad that Fu Hua had decided to leave the Imperial Capital and join her unit, fighting side by side.
During their brief eting in the capital not long ago, Durandal had already noticed Fu Hua’s intent to temporarily step down as instructor of new recruits, either to oversee a frontier garrison or to head out to the expanding frontlines.
But she hadn’t expected Fu Hua to join her fleet.
By all reasoning—and from her understanding of Fu Hua’s personality—Durandal had assud she would either take command of a garrison like Kiana, or lead a division of her own as Durandal herself once had.
"I lack the qualities of a commander, and the decisiveness a general must have. From fifty thousand years ago during the Previous Era of the Fire Moth, through Shenzhou, St. Freya, Schicksal... and now, the Empire—it has never changed."
Catching the inquiry in Durandal’s eyes, Fu Hua smiled faintly. She clasped Durandal’s offered hand, bumping it lightly in camaraderie. There was no air of formality, no attempt to conceal her own imperfections.
"I am a warrior. One who happens to have so experience founding a school... and a tendency to lecture others."
"The Seven Swords of Taixun, hmm?"
Durandal shook her head slightly, not lingering on that delicate topic, though she knew so of the grim tales of disciple-slaying among the Seven. "Once, a certain Archbishop of the Apocalypse family who strayed far from the right path told sothing. I’ll pass it on to you, Senior Fu Hua."
"’If one day you choose to walk the path of a Valkyrie, rember this: whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.’"
"Otto, huh..."
Fu Hua’s pupils dimd slightly at the na as mories of that old acquaintance—half friend, half nesis—rose in her mind.
Clap clap.
Brushing the mont aside, Durandal clapped her hands and guided Fu Hua toward the officers waiting nearby. "Alright, enough about that. Let introduce my key personnel."
"This is Lewis Pepper, captain of the Valkyrie Ground Combat Unit."
"Senior Fu Hua!"
A loud, crisp salute resounded through the hall.
The woman nad Lewis Pepper hardly fit the usual image of a Valkyrie.
Her hands were large and firm, her physique compact yet powerful from years of rigorous training. Her skin was sun-darkened from countless missions, her combat attire simple and practical. Strong but still distinctly feminine, with tightly bound hair and eyes as sharp as her chiseled features.
A Valkyrie... like this?
Fu Hua blinked, montarily taken aback. Then, upon reflection—yes, perhaps this was what a Valkyrie should truly look like.
"This is my adjutant, Agravain."
Pale skin, short and neat hair, a cold, ascetic expression. Dressed in a pitch-black suit of armor with a half-shoulder blue cape lined in white fur, Agravain stood rigid and formal, pressing a hand to his chest in silent salute.
"And this... the commander of the Special Operations Division, leader of the Knights of the Round Table—Artoria Pendragon."
An old acquaintance. Back during one of her rare field assignnts, during a covert infiltration mission, Fu Hua had already t this so-called King Arthur.
Only... huh? Has Imperial cuisine improved that much? She’s... filled out?
Aside from trading her silver-white armor for the Empire’s rare cavalry-style ceremonial uniform, the blonde, blue-eyed knight still wore her long, silky hair in a graceful bun. Her erald eyes remained unchanged—radiant with strength and resolve.
But... why such a drastic change in physique? She’d gone from the stature of an elentary or middle school girl to that of a high school or college student.
Glancing briefly at the other’s now well-developed form—so different from the lean fra she rembered—Fu Hua felt a subtle, inexplicable sense of loss. Her gaze drifted down without a trace of expression, only to realize... she could still see her toes, even her ankles!
Artoria: ???
Though she had no idea why this woman—who had once struck her squarely in the chest with a devastating inch-force blow on the battlefield—was looking at her with such a sharp and peculiar gaze, Artoria maintained perfect decorum. She placed a hand upon her chest and nodded respectfully, mindful that while she was no longer a king, the other was once the Empire’s Chief Instructor of the Grand Training Camp.
"This is Gawain, this is Bedivere... Lancelot, Tristan, Cu Chulainn... Gino Weinberg (from Code Geass)... Momonga, Bastille, Doberman (from One Piece)... Fiel Nirvalen (from No Ga No Life)..."
Durandal continued introducing the ’talents’ gathered within her fleet.
"My Lady."
"Chief Instructor."
...
As each soldier announced the na of their colony world, or the administrative district under the Central Governnt they hailed from, Fu Hua nodded repeatedly in acknowledgent.
Indeed, she thought, it was ti to see more of the world again.
She had spent nearly all her ti confined to the Imperial Capital. Her few missions outside had always been by Empress Selene’s direct command. Most of what she knew ca from reports and rumors; she rarely t anyone face to face. But now, standing before these vibrant, living people, saluting with passion and pride, Fu Hua felt the truth of it—the Empire’s reach was not re numbers on a page.
When Durandal had finally finished the introductions, Fu Hua took ti to exchange a few words with each of them. With those who had once co to the capital for training and studied under her instruction, she offered quiet encouragent. When the gathering dispersed and she sat in a quiet cabin afterward, Fu Hua rubbed her temples slightly, closed her eyes, and murmured softly:
"I once thought you and Kiana were very much alike... but now I understand. From the beginning, you’ve always been freer than her."
"Can I take that as a complint?"
Facing Fu Hua, Durandal smiled faintly. She picked up her teacup, sipping the sweet red tea lightly. "Our goals are the sa—the only difference lies in the journey."
As she spoke, she set the cup before Fu Hua and turned her gaze toward the window. Outside, the Immortal Blade, Durandal’s flagship battleship, led a formation of over a dozen long, shuttle-shaped warships. They streaked through the surreal view of faster-than-light travel, the stars of Colony World No. 638059 stretching into endless trails of light.
"Coordinates, Fu Hua—these star map points you gave to pursue the fleet... what’s the source?" The dignified knightess asked curiously.
"The God Tree."
Fu Hua’s green eyes lifted from the rippling surface of her tea. "Her Majesty paid special attention to this world. Using the giant tree currently being dissected by the authorities of Colony No. 638059, the Empress cast her gaze through it."
"All these God Trees share the sa origin. Finding other planets in the universe showing the sa reaction isn’t difficult—but sadly, most of them are already dead, nothing but ’withered trees.’"
"So our destination is..."
"A living God Tree," Fu Hua confird with a nod. "Though sowhat weakened, it’s the closest planetary system to the Empire’s expansion zone. Perhaps, we’ll be fortunate enough to encounter what Her Majesty called ’the Tree-Planting Tribe.’"
"’Tree-Planting Tribe’? Using planetary life force as nourishnt to plant trees across the universe—fitting, I suppose."
Beep beep beep.
Sliding her hand across the console, a torrent of translucent data streams cascaded down before Durandal’s eyes like a waterfall. Familiar with the procedure, she swiftly constructed a dynamic starmap in her mind, focusing on the coordinates of their destination.
"Then let’s go et them—the ’Tree-Planting Tribe!’"
She pressed her finger firmly onto the glowing coordinate point.
As her words fell, the Immortal Blade fleet, engaged in synchronized faster-than-light travel, suddenly halted. The flowing corridor of vast geotrical arcs and luminous lines vanished in an instant. On the polished viewing window, the eternal, mottled hues of the real universe reflected once more.
In the silent expanse of the infinite void, a celestial body reminiscent of the Earth-Moon system ca into view, far away yet unmistakable to Durandal and Fu Hua.
It was so vivid—its vibrant colors standing out among the dull, reddish-brown, frost-white planets surrounding it. Especially the lush patches of green, symbolizing life itself—so rare, so precious.
"The active coordinates must be on that planet."
"Order the shipborne ground forces to prepare for planetary landing operations."
...
anwhile, on the surface of the planet the locals called the Ninja World.
At this mont, the massive, earth-shaking upheavals that could move mountains and reverse seas had ceased. Even the relentless chaos of the ninja alliance’s large-scale battles—waves of endless jutsu and the roars of tailed beasts—had vanished as if they had never happened.
Only within the headquarters of the Allied Shinobi Forces did the atmosphere differ sharply from the calm across the land.
"Brother! What are you doing?!"
A silver-haired man with red eyes, three crimson streaks on his cheeks, and cracks from the Edo Tensei technique stared in disbelief—utterly outraged by his elder brother’s unilateral decision.
The iron forehead protector with its distinctive design, the black combat bodysuit layered beneath a blue, fur-collared armored coat—
It was none other than Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage of Konohagakure.
"That’s only Uchiha Madara’s side of the story," Tobirama snapped. "Even if what he says is true, he still ignited the Fourth Great Ninja War! The Konoha shinobi who died because of him... are we just erasing that? What is this, a child’s ga?! And Tsunade—our Hokage—her life and death unknown, does that an nothing?!"
Tobirama glared furiously at Uchiha Madara, who was staring back with his Rinnegan eyes blazing.
"Conflict," Madara said coldly, "is but a passing ripple struck at the wrong mont."
"Tobirama Senju, with your narrow vision, you will never grasp the chill at such heights."
Arms folded, head raised in arrogance, Madara looked down his nose at the man who had killed his last surviving brother.
Madara’s pride only fueled Tobirama’s growing fury.
That tone... this man actually saw himself as the savior of the ninja world.
A savior? he thought darkly. You? My brother, perhaps—but you? Never.
The air between them crackled with tension, ready to explode.
"Enough!"
The First Hokage’s voice cut through the rising chaos. Hashirama Senju swept his gaze across everyone present. "We are here to discuss, not to fight! Tobirama, hold your tongue."
"But—"
"Trust , Tobirama..."
When Tobirama tried to press further, Hashirama’s hand fell firmly upon his shoulder. His gaze burned with conviction as he said solemnly, "I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. But I saw it—and so did Madara."
"The reason... it may be that strange chakra, that soul, that bloodline..."
It might have been better left unsaid. The mont he did, Tobirama’s expression twisted in exasperation.
Are we brothers, or are you and Madara the real brothers here?
From the mont of his reincarnation, Tobirama had noticed his brother’s odd behavior. He hadn’t even had the chance to lecture that Uchiha brat Sasuke about the "innate evil of his clan" before Hashirama had suddenly lost his temper—destroying the Naka Shrine and rushing off to the battlefield without a word.
By the ti Tobirama had shaken off the clingy Sasuke and arrived, his dear elder brother was already...
Sigh... Back together again with his "beloved nesis."
If not for the presence of their successors—and the need to maintain face before shinobi from other villages—Tobirama would have grabbed Hashirama by the collar right there and demanded to know what kind of love potion this battlefield rose had slipped him.
While the founding mbers of Konoha argued intensely, the revived Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and the Fourth, Minato Namikaze, could only watch in silence, unable to intervene.
This ti, it was Naruto Uzumaki—the ever-dense one—who first snapped back to awareness. A chill ran down his spine, not from fear or will, but from his body’s instinctive reaction to danger. He swallowed hard and said hoarsely:
"Hey... you dead old Hokage guys, that thing you’re talking about... I think I saw it too..."
"I saw it as well," said another—his chest bare, the Grasscutter Sword slung diagonally across his back, spiky hair bristling.
"Hmph. As I thought..." Madara muttered. "That chakra... disappearing after death. So it is reincarnation, then..."
Sensing sothing, Madara fixed his gaze upon the Nine-Tails’ jinchūriki, now without his chakra cloak, looking almost ordinary.
"As one who bears the sa destiny, we are but one step away from the Ten-Tails’ complete revival. I must ensure I return to full power. The Nine-Tails within you, and the other half sealed within that Fourth Hokage boy—both must be returned to the Ten-Tails. Only by restoring its full strength can we defend ourselves."
"Will I die?"
There was no fear in Naruto’s voice—only calm curiosity.
"Naruto!" shouted Minato.
"You decide for yourself," Madara said, his Rinnegan glinting as he turned away. "You have two minutes..."
And with that, in typical Madara fashion, he turned his back to the stunned crowd of shinobi and faced the heavens.
Gazing up at the night sky, a familiar sense of insignificance washed over him.
Never before had Madara pondered what lay beyond the universe. He was not one for such sentintality. Yet, the warning echoing from his very soul could not be ignored.
Even the Infinite Tsukuyomi Project would have to be delayed indefinitely. For if he could not repel the enemies from beyond the void—then even if he gave all humanity the illusion of paradise, it would still be but a fragile dream, a castle of air.
"The vast universe... what truly lies beyond the deep void?" Madara whispered to himself.
And then—Vrrrrooooom!!
As if fate itself had answered, blazing streaks of light tore across the sky, brighter and brighter, until dawn split open the sky.
—
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