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--- relics:wind-soaring.valorous [2026/06/05 16:48] – [Head: Valorous Mask of Northern Skies] anadmin
+++ relics:wind-soaring.valorous [2026/06/05 17:16] (current) – [Feet: Valorous Greaves of Pursuing Hunt] anadmin
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 {{ :relics:valorous-hands.png?200|}}
 > A bionic gauntlet integrated with the body. To hunt fearsome beasts, one must possess claws sharper than those of the beasts themselves.
+The Verdant Knights under her command were as valiant as the Borisin Wolftroopers. Even if their swords broke and their bows snapped, without an inch of iron left in their hands, they could still fight to the death relying solely on the sharp claws on their gauntlets.
+It is rumored that the foxian warriors of the Verdantia Fleet often rescued worlds ruled by the borisin. These foxians born in "fallen territories" have mixed bloodlines, occasionally producing individuals exhibiting atavistic mutations. These foxian individuals are conscripted as war slaves, driven by their wolf-headed masters to serve as vanguards before battles and as cannon fodder to delay attacks by Xianzhou ships.
+"Join the Verdant Knights, and we will give you the chance to seek revenge against your wolf-headed masters!" During recruitment and training, the general remembered saying this to the young foxian girl. But she felt guilty for the latter half of the sentence that she couldn't bring herself to say: "Like me, you were born for war and will die for war."
+Although the war slaves possessed strength and speed comparable to their wolf-headed masters, their mutations also depleted their life and sanity. When their will was burnt to embers by rage, they would descend into bloodthirsty monsters.
+When pure bestial fury rules their bodies and after completing the final hunt and chase of this life, these gauntlets will become shackles that bind their hands, never to be separated from flesh and blood again.
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 {{ :relics:valorous-body.png?200|}}
 > Like the cold wind, soaring above a pack of wolves with their heads held high. The hunter and the hunted will eventually switch places.
+She still remembered that ancient ballad of the fox clans, singing a tune that never quite became a melody, only a mournful lament for their lost homeland. //"Sauntering fox on the distant shore. Traveling slowly, thirst and hungry. My heart is filled with sorrow, yet no one knows my grief..."//
+Thousands of years ago, they became livestock, servants, and currency under the tyranny of the wolves' claws. Thousands of years later, they still fight tirelessly for the liberation of their kin. Despite lacking their natural enemies' constant mutating and transforming bodies, they possess keen adaptabilty and wit.
+Their wolf-headed masters commanded them to craft tools for use, yet repeatedly dug out their eyes to prevent learning and forbade them from possessing metals to avoid copying any tools. None of this could erase the fox clans' inner desire: One day, they would teach the hunters the fear of being hunted. One day, they would swap places with the hunters and pursue those without rest.
+In the end, the fox races forged porcelain into armor. The Verdantia Knights' porcelain armor was as light as the wind and strong as steel. Their wolf-headed masters' claws and weapons of flesh could not harm them in the slightest.
+The general donned this porcelain armor, rising with the Verdantia Fleet warriors with the wind, becoming a nightmare soaring above the borisin. They advanced and retreated in formation, like a flock of hunting birds, echoing each other. But no matter how sturdy this armor was, she always believed in this: A body tempered by pain is the best weapon, and comrades who share hardship are the best armor.
+//"Birds spread wings. Beasts bare fangs. Who said we have naught to garner? Our comrades are our armor."//
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 {{ :relics:valorous-feet.png?200|}}
 > Combat boots fashioned after talons. They allow the wearer to swiftly dash onto the battlefield like the wind, effortlessly traversing through thorns and rugged terrain.
+She watched the girl's figure dart swift and sure in the soft moonlight. She followed the girl's footsteps and scent like a hunter tracking their prey. Finally, she waited for the girl at the end of the road.\\
+Or perhaps, it was the girl waiting for her to arrive.
+In the moonlight, the general saw that face clearly.\\
+//"Do you want to join the Cloud Knights that much?"\\
+"I don't want to give my life to a wolf-headed master."//\\
+The girl's borisin speech was difficult and broken. The expression on that face — the general had seen it countless times while rescuing trapped kin from the fallen territories.\\
+Though these people shared the same blood as her, they spoke different languages and harbored different thoughts.\\
+They never considered themselves descendants of the foxes, but then, who were they?\\
+The general trembled slightly, stepping aside and vacating the path.\\
+//"Go. From tonight, they won't chase you anymore..."\\
+"But I want them dead."//
+The general looked at her in disbelief, as amazed as if she had seen a shooting star streak across the sky, and the girl's animal-like figure suddenly vanished into the darkness.\\
+The general closed her eyes as if the moonlight burned them. After a moment, she looked down and saw the girl's bare, thorn-scarred feet covered in mud.
+//"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"\\
+"I forgot. I didn't notice."//\\
+The general took off her own boots, compared sizes, and helped the girl put them on.\\
+//"They fit pretty well... Let's go then."\\
+"What about you?"\\
+"I'm used to walking on thorns."//
+She quickened her pace, barefoot and agile, with the girl closely chasing after her.\\
+Or perhaps, they were both chasing after each other.