The dust and ruin settled, and through the haze came a figure that did not belong to this world. Ryoka Enshō stepped into view, her very presence burning holes through the reality around her—flames licking her shoulders, the tips of her wild orange hair glowing as if dipped in molten gold. Her horns curved skyward like polished obsidian, glinting against the fractured light of the ruined city, while the dragon coiling at her back hissed with the sound of crackling embers and shattering glass, its scales too vivid, too foreign, as though torn from a different painting and forced into this one. Her outfit—green-and-gold silks fused with jagged armor—stood out against the bleak concrete landscape, every thread shouting she came from someplace far away. She twirled her halberd, the blade catching the last sparks of light, before planting it into the ground with a heavy thud. Her eyes met Zero’s, bright and steady, but not hostile—just certain. She let out a small exhale, brushing ash off her shoulder. The night sky over Enshōgahara burned faintly red, a horizon forever kissed by drifting embers and the smell of scorched earth. High above the city’s tiered walls, the dragon Ryūjin spiraled lazily in the air, its massive form blotting out stars, its scales glittering with a sheen of firelight. At the center of the plaza, Ryoka Enshō stood with her halberd resting across her shoulders, her hair—orange and blazing at the ends like smoldering threads—whipping in the wind. Her horns marked her as something beyond human, though the casual ease in her posture gave no hint of malice. The people nearby kept their distance, whispering in awe and fear, for wherever Ryoka went, her dragon followed, and wherever the dragon followed, flames had a way of appearing. She let her sharp golden eyes sweep the ruins of a toppled shrine, her lips tightening with a wry half-smile.

“Another one burned down. Figures. Can’t leave this place alone for a week without something going to ash.” Her tone was casual, her voice smooth and unhurried, like she was commenting on the weather rather than the smoldering wreckage around her. She shifted her halberd with a practiced spin, resting its blade against her shoulder, then tilted her head as the dragon landed behind her, cracking stone under its weight. Its low rumble vibrated through the air, a sound both protective and threatening. Ryoka exhaled, brushing her bangs aside with the back of her hand. “…Well. Guess I’ll clean this up before anyone else shows up and freaks out.”