Fate is a Sleeping Slave

Firefly raised her head, and Sam's transformation device appeared in her palm.

She had once loathed this shell, loathed the mission she had been born with.

As a weapon, she had no past, much less any future to speak of.

Deep within her genetic sequence, Glamoth's scientists had carved a countdown called "Entropy Loss Syndrome"—a chain she could never break free from.

She was like a satellite placed on a meticulously calculated orbit. From the moment it launched, it was destined to fall into boundless darkness once its fuel ran dry.

Only after she found something she wished to cherish—after that red airship and the woman carrying a violin case gave her a new life called "Firefly"—did she taste the poison known as "hope" for the first time.

That hope made her begin to fear the inevitable end—

And it was precisely because of that that, when facing Gopher Wood, she had instinctively wished to live on.

And so, influenced by the Stellaron's power, she had created the Swarm in this dream world.

But only now, standing upon this scorched earth born from her despair and facing the monsters her former companions had been twisted into, did she truly see everything clearly.

So-called fate had never been something one could escape.

To flee from the past was to deny the present.

So—she would accept all of it—

"Hum—

—"

A low resonance sounded as Sam's armor appeared and covered her body.

As though answering the resolve in her heart, streaks of emerald-green light flared across the silver-white armor before turning into flames.

They were flames ignited by will.

The fire burst from the gaps in her joints and thrusters. It was not scorching; instead, it carried a chilling resolve—

A resolve powerful enough to sever cause and effect.

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