Elie had already made her way toward the estimated impact point of the missile.
The view of the capital was dark, yet strangely beautiful. At night, the black street lamps glowed like fireflies scattered across the empty cityscape, while most of the buildings stood deserted.
Zvenne was usually a bustling city, full of life, but on this day, the beloved capital of the Emperor was silent. Everyone had fled to the bunkers, leaving behind most of their belongings. The city was nothing more than a ghost town, where only the firefly-like lamps, trapped in their glass cages, still had the right to shine.
It was a heartbreaking sight for the people watching from the safety of their bunkers. Each had a screen, connected to cameras scattered throughout the city, showing them the state of their beloved home.
And, against all expectations, at the very place where the missile was meant to land stood a young girl, barely twenty. Her gaze was cold and resolute, her stance upright and unshaken — as if she feared not death, but running away.
She stood there alone. Behind her stood the Emperor, his butler Exorian, and a handful of guards and soldiers, there to "protect" them. But what protection could they possibly offer against an A42, a weapon powerful enough to wipe the entire city and its surroundings off the map?
To be honest, their presence was admirable — but to the citizens, it seemed utterly irrational. The children were crying, unable to comprehend what was happening. The adults were already covering their ears, their hearts heavy as they abandoned their homes. There was nowhere to run except deeper into their own nation — for Zvenne was at war with the entire world. And so they wept silently, praying that the A42 would never reach them.
Yet Elie stood there, unwavering, ready to stop the missile. Her heart did not falter, even though it carried the weight of doubt.
Her eyes locked on the light descending from the sky.
"There it is."
She could see it now — the missile, cutting through the storm, moving at a terrifying speed that drowned out every other sound.
Still, Elie did not lower her gaze. She stared at the missile as though she intended to devour it.
The Emperor and Exorian were watching as well. Exorian, however, stood there as though he were witnessing his own end. In a faint voice, he spoke:
"I fear this may be the end, Your Majesty."
But the Emperor did not share his fear. He wanted to believe in a future that was not the death of Zvenne. He wanted to see with his own eyes just how far these children had come, how incredible they had become.
And Marc was not the only one who had astonished him.
The dawn would rise again for Zvenne and its people and Turcan would witness its rebirth.
"No," he said. "Look."
For reasons he himself could not explain, the Emperor felt no fear. He never trembled in the face of danger, not even before a nuclear weapon. He feared nothing — not even death. And on this day, he had chosen to place all his faith in this young girl he barely knew.
Elie did not waver either. Far from it — she slowly raised her hand toward the missile as it closed in.
"It's coming."
At the Garida military base, Garid was smiling. On the monitors, he could see Elie, her hand outstretched toward his masterpiece of destruction. His heart swelled with a twisted joy as the inevitable end of his enemy approached.
The scientists and soldiers were watching too. Forced to obey their Emperor, they saluted the girl's fearless stance — even as they condemned her madness.
Garid's grin widened.
"This is the end of your Empire, Turcan. I suppose you were unaware about it."
The missile roared closer, tearing the sky apart with a sound like thunder. Soon, one of the men in charge of the countdown raised his voice:
"Impact in 20 seconds!"
Elie drew a deep breath. The tension on her shoulders grew unbearable...
"10 seconds!"
Turcan's expression remained perfectly calm.
In Exorian's glasses, the missile was reflected, blocking out his eyes completely — but if anyone could have seen them, they would have witnessed total despair....
"5 seconds!"
Elie's eyes suddenly snapped wide open, her mouth parting.
Her hand still outstretched toward the missile, she spoke with a voice that cracked like a whip:
"You will go no further, bastard."
To this day, no one has truly grasped the power of these people — the ones who had survived countless dangers, traversed worlds, just to save their own. They had faced a man capable of creating time loops, hordes of white beings with universes reflected in their eyes, a creature that had possessed a dead girl and warped reality into a blood-soaked world under a giant crimson sun, and finally, a man whose mere presence meant death.
So under no circumstance would a mere missile, launched by mere humans....
"Impossible."
...stop them.
"This is impossible!"
"What?!"
"Emperor Garid? Emperor Garid, what is happening?!"
The sovereign was staring at the missile feed, his face frozen in disbelief. The camera was still transmitting, but there was no explosion — because the missile was no longer falling.
It was floating above the ground.
"..."
No one could speak. All eyes turned to the young girl who had performed this feat. No — feat was too small a word. This was nothing short of the impossible.
Garid's soldiers stood slack-jawed, wondering if they were dreaming, or if this entire war had been a farce from the very beginning. Their eyes searched for answers in the incomprehensible sight before them.
Even Garid himself watched in stunned silence, praying for this nightmare to end — but no, it was real.
Elie had stopped the missile.
She reached her hand toward the missile's camera — and the feed cut to black.
Turcan turned calmly, walking back toward the palace with the same dignity and poise as if he had never doubted her.
And as he walked, he said aloud, in a cold, calm voice :
"Problem solved."
Exorian fell to knee before the impossible. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide, unable to do anything but witness the power of the girl he had doubted only moments ago.
On the way back to his palace, perhaps he hid it — it didn't show on his face — but the Emperor struggled to contain the storm within him. His damp palms were proof enough. After all, even the incredible, almost inhuman Emperor Turcan was capable of feeling emotions this vast.
Elie gently lowered the missile to the ground, then calmly turned her gaze to the man who had run all this way just to stop it. Finally, she tilted her head slightly and gave him the brightest, most beautiful smile she could muster.
"You can go back now, Marc. I told you, didn't I? I've got this."
Marc was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving. His heart was pounding against his ribs. He had run from the moment of his forced landing, chasing the missile with everything he had left. When he arrived at the impact point, he saw Elie standing there, hand outstretched toward the missile.
For reasons he couldn't quite explain, his legs had slowed, and he had simply watched. His body had chosen to believe in the one he was meant to protect. And in the end, it had been right to trust her — his heart didn't regret it for even a single moment.
He looked at Elie, his eyes stinging, almost on the verge of tears. His failure — the one he had feared so much — had been caught and carried by someone else. He had been terrified that everything would end here, with his mistake. His heart had screamed at him the entire way that it couldn't end like this, yet deep down, he had almost accepted it.
And then he saw Elie.
Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave. Her white, radiant aura had reached him, wrapping around him, telling him everything would be all right. He let himself sink into that light, its waves rolling toward him, until Elie commanded the missile to stop — and it obeyed.
Sometimes, Marc forgot that his friends were just as capable of saving this world as he was. That he had to trust them, even when the task was impossible.
Finally, he gave her a smile, a warm, sincere, almost tearful smile, before answering, still breathless:
"Alright… I'll head back, then."
Elie watched him, her own heart full. She wanted to stop him, to make him rest, just a little longer. But she knew he wouldn't accept it. So instead, she let herself savor this brief moment, reassuring him in silence that everything was fine.
For a full minute, they simply looked at each other before she finally nodded.
"Okay."
Elie turned away, her steps light and playful as she hopped back toward the hotel that had been entrusted to her.
Marc stood there, stunned, watching her skip away before turning back to continue his mission — his heart now just a little lighter.
That day, Elie earned a new title: The Queen of War.