One season the Phantasmoon waxes full, one season the mortal world shifts anew: The mysterious girl reappears in Planarcadia!
Fallen petals scatter with ease, and her stay was but a fleeting instant. Everything about this new era enthralls her, and she will not allow anyone to bring it to ruin…
A single ruler blade judges right from wrong, but who can say how much good or evil lies within oneself?

At first, the ancient tree in the hidden courtyard simply listened in solitude.

It heard its gnarled roots spreading beneath the earth, heard its lush branches unfurling in the wind, heard infinite life surging into the newborn world, only to fall back upon the nameless land.
It paid little mind. To it, these lives were but fleeting visitors who would wither and bloom in an instant, like raindrops returning to the soil.

But the Nameless Place returned to silence. Visitors from beyond the sky and travelers from distant lands paused here, by chance or by fate. The tremors carried through branch and leaf grew ever stronger, and even without looking upon them directly, their voices traveled along the tangled roots.

They gave the land a name and called it home. They thanked it, through ancient games and rituals that sealed death and the wilderness forever within the abyss.
In those beautiful legends, when the moon was full, the spirit of the sacred tree would take the shape of a mischievous maiden, and visit the dreams of the devout to grant their wishes.
Through these repeating rites, it began to wonder: What is laughter? What is sorrow? Why do people sing? Why do they weep? Why do some leave and never return? And why do younger lives always appear, stubbornly taking their roots here?

Then, calamity slammed down from beyond the sky, and Destruction swept away all life on this land in a devastating wave.
It saw their tears and heard their cries, watching as what once grew from nothing, returned to nothing.
As it watched, a storm brewed deep inside it. At least, it came to understand laughter and tears. Why people sang and wept. And why they could never return.

Tonight, they would continue singing to it. Tomorrow, they would fight to the death. This they declared with great courage. A mother held up her child to string its branch with red thread for a blessing. The child stared at it through clear eyes that had no concept of fear. Smiling, and with a tiny hand made nearly translucent by the firelight, she reached out to a branch…

“Pinky promise, Miss Sacred Tree…”

At that moment, countless destinies coalesced into a vibrant ink that paints her into the mortal realm.
In the next instant, two palms — one large, one small — gently pressed together.
And so, under the moonlight, the girl named “Evanescia” stepped into the mortal world.

“This morning I opened my eyes to a new vista. There is a round, golden thing called an egg tart. And this curio is called a handheld console. From the screen you see and hear people in it. Fun little thing, I miss it greatly if I stop playing for even a moment. The Phantasmoon Etiquette ended unbearably early…”

— Notes on Life in Ahatopia (II)

“A device for communicating across thousands of miles is called a 'phone'. Ritual performers are called 'idols'. Short-sleeved shirts are called 't-shirts'. Jokes are called 'memes'. Companions care called 'besties' or 'bros', and 'I'm psyched!' means you are ecstatic… I completely understand now!
…
This time I'm cosplaying as a high school girl! But I can't have people thinking I'm a fossil, so first things first, a new outfit and cute weapon skin! Thanks to my bestie, I'm also now giving trendy! What was my life before comics!? Now I'm all like: So hype! So cute! This is my vibe! Ugh, there's way too many unruly Supplicants, and I haven't even finished reading. I'll live to see this story end… right!?”

— Notes on Life in Planarcadia (VIII)

“Fam, I'm living the dream! First time at a con today, first time cosplaying. I'm in my favorite character's outfit, wig on, makeup done, standing in front of the mirror… is that really me? Ever since the IPC came to this place, there's been something new and wild every single day, memes popping up left and right — I can't even keep up with them if I pulled an all-nighter cramming them! But everyone's tolerance to jokes are getting better and better, and putting on bigger shows. Supplicants are pulling out all the stops for views. I rescued those kidnapped children, but I couldn't use Abundance to heal them… If I lost control, it would've caused an even worse disaster… *sigh* Listening to their hearts stop beating, sometimes I wonder why I'm even here, why this land is cursed with such misfortune…”

— Notes on Life in Planarcadia (XVI)

The young girl doesn't gaze down upon the mortal realm from above Phantasmoon. Instead, she's more interested in mingling with the mortals.
Humans are such fascinating creatures. They imagine, they wish, they pray, they curse. Either way, she has only one mission in the Master of Elation's Phantasmoon Games: see them through to the end—

But the joy and sorrow, fear and dread she has touched… do they really drift away with the wind?
Even before the moment of her perception, she has already been shaped by everything she has felt.

Sixty seconds on the clock, a minute until words vanish completely.
When the victor of this Phantasmoon Games announced this miracle, most people just dismissed it as a farce.
They looked up, ready to witness this folly.

59 seconds left. Epic, action-packed comic book battle lines spill from the pages.
“We quit! You come up with your own battle sounds!”
The people of Planarcadia burst out laughing.

50 seconds left. The escaped words are reborn. They sprout limbs, gaining meaning beyond mere symbols—
The word “Blade” races, glinting through the streets. The “Spear” and “Bullet” join forces, becoming indiscriminate killers tearing across the roads.
Libraries, home bookshelves, coffee shops… And endless torrent of words come flooding in, with nowhere to hide.
And still, even more terrifying words are breaking free from their shells.

40 seconds left. Anguished screaming and wailing echoes throughout Planarcadia.
The “Demon King of the Century,” the “Master of Destruction,” the “Sisters of Reticence”… Born from the entertainment industry's books, they feed on people's terror.
They take the form of devils hovering above Planarcadia, directing this apocalyptic Euphoria.

30 seconds left. As all the Code sneak away, digital devices go dark, Planarcadia's defensive facilities shut down completely, security officers fall in great numbers.

20 seconds left. The girl fighting on all fronts halted, staring at the human world turned into purgatory. She seems to have come to a decision.

10 seconds left. A flash of extraordinary radiance. The Ambrosial Arbor in the courtyard lowered its endless branches from the void and grabbed the rampaging word monsters.

5 seconds left. A cool smile plays on the girl's face as she watches the branches drain the life from the words, leaving them floating like withered leaves.

3 seconds left. A crimson blade flashes through the air, severing the symbols. Afterward, the severed symbols are then woven into a reborn language for future generations.

A minute later, the Phantasmoon Games resumed normally. But the world appears aged, yellowed. The earth cracked opn, mountains and valleys diminished into dust, and a sorrowful girl fell from the sky.

The Phantasmoon dims, and she drifts back into the embrace of dreams.
In those endless dreams, fragments both strange and familiar rise then settle.

She dreamed of a single tear.
A ceaseless tune rang in her ears, its melody swaying her as she lamented her dying kin.
No matter how hard she tried to save them, they relentlessly peaked at youth, froze, and plummeted into old age. Their tears falling on her hands were searing.

She dreamed once again of gloriously marching to war.
Her kin had come to call her the “Swordsinger.” The blade to cut through all obstacles, the song to comfort her people. She vowed to overturn their fate and bless them with eternal life.
She was tireless on her quest for the elixir. Yet behind her hurried steps, death followed like a shadow.
Using life itself as fuel, the slender hands tending the mystical garden finally extended her a branch of favor.

Memories of life and death stirred her awake once more.
Driven by unmatched pride, she had charged thoughtlessly into the forbidden territory of the Alliance Fleet.
Only afterward did she consider how effortlessly the opponent in front of her could parry her sword. Like dry leaves faced with encroaching wildfire, she too was at a loss in front of this blaze.
When she lost by the slimmest of margins, her other self mocks:

“Why resist what you truly are?”
She saw a giant tree, eternally immortal even as its surroundings were devoured and reduced to nothing but piles of bleached bones.

Yet before the Dreamscape could murmur its reply, she had already broken free of its unending embrace.
She heard clamoring beyond the courtyard, a noise that chased away the terror born of deathly silence.
Seated upon the golden treetop, once more, she reached out her hand toward the mortal world:

“Is that even a question? If I turned into something like you, how could I keep up with Fluffy Across the Blue's latest updates!?”