New Era 2064, January 5.
The battle that took place on Leifeng Star quietly, soundlessly shifted direction when midnight arrived.
Beyond human sight, the Goddess of Fate, barefoot with snow‑white, gleaming feet, stepped along a gravel path slick with flowing blood and drifted lightly toward the scene.
She stood at a crossroads, lost in thought.
Across the sky the light kept changing, and countless clashing Mecha, charging warriors and blazing flames fused into a fantastical mirage.
It was the Heavenly God's apocalypse.
When the breeze stirred the Goddess of Fate's white robe, she turned at the crossroads.
The tangled thorns of the new path parted beneath her pale feet and then closed up again behind her. Vines grew in mad profusion, sealing tight, blocking every gaze that tried to peer into the future.
Then all of it slowly melted away like ice and snow in the sun. Thread by thread, mote by mote, it dissipated and merged into history.
All of it silent, without a sound.
