This morning, the sky of Gaia transformed—not the crimson red it once was, nor the dark somber tones of despair. Dawn rose behind the shattered mountains, casting a golden light over the city of Thirtos and the plum garden, which now stood as a mere collection of charred trunks and fresh gravestones. In the air, the scent of smoke intertwined with wildflowers, creating a peculiar symphony that signaled the world had not yet come to an end. Amidst this panorama telling tales of collapse and loss, a gentle hope began to creep in, reminding everyone of the beauty that once existed. The moment stirred memories of laughter and joy that used to fill the garden, where children ran and parents shared stories beneath the lush plum trees.
The survivors emerged from the ruins: their faces scarred, yet in their eyes flickered something that had never flourished during the war—hope. This hope seemed to draw them back from the abyss, granting them the strength to stand despite their shattered state. Some of them held onto each other, rebuilding connections that had once been severed. In their gaze, it was evident that although the world outside was filled with emptiness, a new struggle was beginning within their hearts.
***
In the midst of the ruins of Sanctuary Plum Blossom, Oda Nobuzan sat against the cracked altar. Her body was weak, the wound on her abdomen not fully healed, yet her eyes gazed at the sky as if she had just swallowed all the suffering of the world. The noise around her nearly clouded her thoughts, but in the silence within, she felt the weight binding her soul. Beside her, Iris—with her unraveled hair, tattered dress, and clear gaze—kneeled, holding Nobuzan's hand. A wave of emotions flowed between them, the aura of uncertainty filling the space that had once been nonexistent.
"Is this the end?" Nobuzan asked, her heavy breath turning to vapor in the morning air, her voice a mixture of doubt and clashing hope. As the question slipped from her lips, it felt as though she was inquiring about something deeper—about life, loss, and destiny.
Iris offered a faint smile, holding back her tears as she nodded slowly. "This is not the end; it's just the beginning. We survived. Not all children of the world have to be born under a curse." As she spoke, Nobuzan felt a bright light piercing through the darkness of his heart. He gazed at Iris intently, sensing her immense strength despite her physical fragility. Throughout the chaos of the years, Iris had been like a light that never extinguished, reminding him of the courage they could still grasp.
"But... how many more must we lose to get here?" he asked, his gaze heavy with pain.
When Iris finally spoke, her voice was gentle, "Loss is part of our hope. Every wound we carry, every tear we shed, is a reminder that we are still breathing. We still have the chance to rebuild." Her words cut through the surrounding noise, reaching deep into the tumultuous emotions within Nobuzan. Each phrase felt like it was reconnecting painful memories, transforming them into a source of strength.
In that moment, Nobuzan felt a shift within her. There was a desire not just to survive, but to fight for something greater—a brighter future. "We can do it, right? Together," she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the roar of the wind. Iris nodded firmly, her gaze now filled with determination. "Together, nothing can stop us."
Amidst the resonant silence between them, a new promise began to weave itself. In the midst of ruins and sorrow, hope grew like shoots defying the cold of winter, waiting for the light.
For a moment, they were both silent. Around them, the remaining protectors—who had just mourned, igniting enemies with the fire of Nobuzan, and witnessed the death of so many friends—gathered debris, built barricades, and planted wildflowers among the gravestones. In that stillness, Joanna's heart trembled with profound loss. She felt the warmth of the sunlight on her face, but that warmth seemed unable to erase the coldness of grief that enveloped their very souls.
***
Joanna stood in the midst of Thirtos city, her clothing stained with dust and blood, her golden wings no longer visible. She appeared human, yet there was something in her gaze: a deep light, almost as radiant as the sun itself. Each passing second felt like an ever-increasing weight, a reminder of all they had endured, of every sacrifice made. She wondered if it was all for nothing.
Gabriel and the remaining angels, who had hesitated just the night before, now knelt before Joanna. In her gaze, Joanna could see a blend of doubt and hope intertwining. The memory lingered in her mind of the angels choosing to fight despite understanding the slim chances of victory. This sacrifice—were they truly prepared to pay its price?
"You are the new Michael. You are the redeemer of heaven and earth," Gabriel whispered, his eyes filled with tears of gratitude and regret. His words served as a poignant reminder of the burden of responsibility resting on Joanna's shoulders. A sense of anxiety weighed heavily on her heart, prompting her to question whether she could fulfill the expectations placed upon her.
Joanna shook her head gently, her gaze falling upon the people who began to sing softly, a delicate melody emerging from the whispers of a small child amidst the ruins:
"Look, dawn has arrived... A new step, a new world. Blood and earth will no longer bind us... Gaia stands, not to seek revenge, but to sing..." As these lyrics reached her ears, tears streamed down Joanna's face. In that melody, she found hope. The strength emanating from the remaining fighters brought a refreshing breeze to her nearly suffocating chest. She felt in her soul that behind all this suffering, there must be life waiting to unfold.
The voice spread, transforming into a chorus. The people, the protectors, and even the angels gradually joined in reciting those simple lyrics. For them, this was not merely a song of victory—it was a mantra, a sign that the world had not been entirely defeated by wrath, technology, or cursed magic. The lyrics seemed to free them from the shackles of fear—leading them toward a new hope that shimmered at the end of their journey. Joanna sensed the same heartbeat in every song; they all yearned to live, to love, to fight for a brighter future.
Under the morning light, the remaining Earth soldiers surrendered. Their spirits were heavy with exhaustion and doubt, as if each step they took led them deeper into uncertainty. They laid down their weapons; some cried, while others simply looked down, ashamed of a world they could not conquer. Joanna approached them, not with a sword, but with open hands, offering a glimmer of hope that seemed lost.
"You are no longer enemies. This world has paid its debt of blood," she said softly, even though her heart was still stained with sorrow. Inside her, the shadows of battle and loss swirled, weighing heavily on her spirit. Yet, she understood that this moment presented an opportunity to embark on a new journey.
A young Earth soldier, his hands trembling, asked in a barely audible voice:
"What will happen to us, angel?"
His face reflected confusion and despair, as if he had become so accustomed to violence that imagining peace was now a challenge. Joanna smiled, tears flowing slowly down her cheeks as she felt a profound sadness when she looked upon the questioning faces.
"You will become human again. This world needs no more victims; it needs more healers," she replied, striving to instill strength, even though she herself was not entirely certain if her words could bring relief.
As all of this unfolded, the morning breeze whispered softly, seemingly supporting the message of hope that had just been spoken. Oda Nobuzan, accompanied by Iris, watched the moment with a mix of emotions. The resentment towards Earth had never fully faded, but for the first time, she allowed herself to believe—that even former enemies deserved a second chance. In her mind, she struggled to suppress the hatred that had been a part of her for so long. However, Joanna's loving gaze reassured her, as if granting her permission to move forward from the shadows of the past.
When she saw a young soldier approaching Joanna with eyes full of hope and sorrow, Nobuzan felt her heart tremble. Here was the meeting point between revival and destruction, and she could no longer turn a blind eye. Although the pain still lingered, she began to realize that the future didn't have to be inherited from a dark past. It was not just about revenge, but about building something better.
***
Across the land of Gaia, the sound of song continued to grow. In the ruins of the castle, a guardian—once a small child who survived the siege—began to dance atop the debris. She invited two friends, then five, then ten. People who had just lost their families now embraced one another, lifting their hands and singing:
"Dawn comes, wounds close,
Our names are not lost in the river of blood.
Gaia, mother, listen:
We are still singing for you—
The world that has vanished,
Rises again in song." Each movement was full of meaning, like a call to recreate what had been destroyed. They felt the vibration of hope in every note of the song, symbolizing acceptance and love.
However, as her voice soared, the pain in their hearts still held them tightly. Some turned away when the lyrics stirred bitter memories; a vacant gaze recounted how loss felt like an unending shadow. Even though there seemed to be no room left for grief, they all understood at the same time: this song was a new hope, although the echo of sorrow sometimes seeped into the melody.
Mitsuyori Aketsu—a girl with pink hair who had saved Iris with an illusion yesterday—walked among the crowd, playing a small bamboo flute. The beautiful notes enhanced the singing, guiding every lost soul in the battlefield back home. She felt joyful, yet a part of her reflected, reminded of the heavy burdens she bore. Each note reminded her of unresolved cases, answers still shrouded in the darkness of her mind. Could hope be enough to atone for past mistakes?
Gabriel spoke to Joanna amidst the chorus of the people:
"I once believed the world only needed the forgiveness of the sky. But today, I know: humanity needs space to forgive itself."
Joanna nodded, though a wave of doubt stirred within her heart. Her guilt haunted her, weighing down on her neck like an unshakable burden. "I don't want to be a god. I want to be a bridge—between resentment and forgiveness, between earth and sky," she said, her voice trembling with both hope and anxiety. Within her, a desire to help surged, yet there was a fear that none of it would matter if she couldn't find a way to release her own past.
She gazed at the crowd, brimming with hope and spirit. Every face there was a reflection of a weary journey, an image of resurrection from the ruins of battle. However, beside her, Gabriel sensed an air of emptiness. He wondered within himself: Could they all find their way to sincere forgiveness, or would they remain trapped in a cycle of endless resentment? That question made him reflect on his role. Was he strong enough to lead them toward a better path, or would he fall into the same darkness? This internal dilemma, nonetheless, was a part of the healing journey.
The angels shed their armor, donned simple garments, and walked among humanity—cleansing the ruins, watering flowers, and helping lift stones. In the midst of this calm yet hopeful atmosphere, they felt the weight they had long carried. Every step they took seemed like a part of a healing ceremony, where not only the world was mended, but also the souls burdened by sorrow and loss. As the bridge between the sky and the earth, they carried a message that miracles could still be found in the darkest of places.
Children thought they were dancing, but the mothers knew: this was the dawn of a new world, a world where wonders no longer belonged solely to the deities, but to all who dared to persevere, even after losing everything they loved. The laughter of their grandchildren filled the air, even as they secretly wondered, "Will this darkness return?" In their hearts, the mothers prayed that their children would never have to feel the same fear they had.
***
Under the last living plum tree, Oda Nobuzan gazed at Iris. The tree looked fragile yet bloomed beautifully—a symbol of resilience that mirrored the affection flowing between them. However, beneath her bright smile, Nobuzan felt a gnawing sadness; the scars from battles long past remained etched in her memory, not yet faded.
"I thought that after all this, I would be left alone—without a clan, without a name," she said softly, as if sharing a profound conviction. Silence enveloped them once more, heightening the tension in the air. She felt trapped in a limbo between hope and disappointment; life offered many possibilities, yet at times everything appeared so bleak.
Iris squeezed Nobuzan's hand, noticing the wounds on her body and the new light in her eyes. Her emotions were mixed; she wanted to comfort her friend, yet feared that her words might be inadequate. "No one is alone today. This new world needs more names, more children, more songs." She aimed to reassure Nobuzan that, despite the winding road ahead, togetherness is a strength that could guide them through any hardship.
For the first time, Nobuzan smiled. The smile was faint yet carried a glimmer of hope—a promise that perhaps there was something worth reaching for ahead. She understood that this world would never truly be at peace, but as long as there were people singing, no night would be too dark to face together. In love and unity, they would discover the light that could pierce through the anxieties and sorrows clouding their hearts.
***
That day, beneath the new sky, The Song of Gaia's Victory became an eternal echo in the hearts of all creatures who had experienced war. The survivors—those who were even disabled, orphaned, or who had lost everything—stood amidst the ruins, holding hands and gazing forward. Despite their faces being covered in dust and tears, the sparkle of hope in each of their eyes created an invaluable sight. Every breath they took felt like a declaration; they were still present, and they could still dream.
Joanna closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the world, and quietly prayed:
"If this victory must come at a steep price, let the world learn to sing a new song—without the need to sacrifice blood again." In her heart, Joanna felt a burden heavier than mere hope. She remembered her lost friends, faces that had once accompanied her through the darkness. Each passing second in the crowded space seemed to immortalize the restless sorrow and unrelenting pain.
For the first time since the war began, the earth was truly silent—not out of death, but because every wound had been allowed to turn into a voice. In that stillness, Joanna opened her eyes, looked around, and realized that even though some were physically damaged, everyone present carried deeper emotional scars. "We are not alone," she whispered to herself, although her heart trembled with unbearable sadness. Amidst the chaos, this new feeling of unity was like a fine thread binding the remaining souls together, reminding them that the journey back home was not yet complete.