Honkai Impact 3: Noah's Ark

27:《Tradewinds》

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Steel and lead were in the air, bathing the streets of Soukai with the scent of blood and gunfire. Glass shards and broken rebar and split girders spilled onto the asphalt from the giant Paladins running through a skyscraper, driving some vehicles to a halt, or in the case of an unfortunate speeding oil truck, sending it careening straight into a humble coffee shop and blowing the entire block to kingdom come. Angels of death turned entire apartments into Swiss Cheese. Here and there were throngs of people, what used to be people, and people mixing in with what used to be people leaving corpses as they went.

A boy pushed off the locked metal gate of an orphanage and dove into the gap between a fallen billboard and a colorfully painted van across the street. A shadow blocked out the violent afternoon light and rammed its stumpy legs straight into the orphanage facade, spilling powdered concrete into the air. He looked at what used to be his home in silent shock as the waxy figure of the Chariot shook off what looked like the communal TV, sofa, and several curtains even as his brown hair was caked grey with dust. Cloth-covered lumps formed heaps on the ground. The corpses of the director and his fellow orphans.

A glint neon magenta reflected off the boy's hazel eyes. He knew then that the Chariot had found him.

He tried to get up, to run, to live, but his legs, no, his body wouldn't move. Instead, a warmth spread between his legs, spilling down to his knees as the earth-shattering footfalls of the Honkai Beast approached.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a light. Motes of fire danced into the street like incandescent cherry blossoms.

The next thing he saw was a woman standing between him and the monster. Bright pink hair ruffled like an angered predator's fur made more prominent by what appeared to be bunny-ear-like protrusions. A single white kimono sleeve billowed in the wind among the fusion of ceremonial clothing and red armor plates, the hand it clovered hovering over a gilded hilt of an elegant black katana.

A clear and confident voice broke the desolation in the air.

"Burn to ashes!"

She disappeared, then the street descended into a brilliant dance of firelight. The boy watched as the Chariot lost a foreleg, a nonfunctional wing, half of its face—losing more and more parts of itself until it was nothing more than a faintly glowing waxy lump, and even that burst into elegant cinders.

The fallen billboard split open, the edges from where it was cut eroding into fiery light. The ten-year-old gawked at the gallant figure of the battle maiden before him as she sheathed her sword and reached towards him with open arms.

"You have survived well, child," Yae Sakura praised as she took hold of his small frame. "If this were like olden times, you would have grown into a fine warrior."

The boy did not respond. Instead, she felt his limbs go limp and adjusted her hold on him appropriately. Nodding, she set off into a run.

"Higokumaru!" She shouted. "How far are the nearest Valkyrie forces?"

A small figure no bigger than a watermelon flew down from the sky dressed in shrine maiden garbs but with hakama-styled shorts. Pink hair like Sakura but for a crimson red highlight running down the middle of her face. Fox ears twitched atop her head and many bushy foxtails flowed out from her behind.