GODGEAR - JOURNEY TO SAVE EDEN

The aftermath of their battle hung in the air, heavy with the scent of scorched earth and shattered winds. Jareth's fiery form dimmed, the blackened flames receding as his skin returned to its natural hue. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he regained control. Fujin, too, stood weakened, her divine winds dissipating like a dying storm. Her body trembled as her godly form faded, leaving behind her elven features, pale and frail.

For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the distant groan of crumbling buildings.

"You're strong," Fujin admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her legs wobbled as she struggled to stay upright, her breaths shallow. "But strength alone... it won't save you."

Jareth narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on her. He didn't answer, his mind replaying the fierce battle they had just fought. But then, her gaze shifted—past him. Her eyes widened in horror, and her body stiffened as though she had seen something unspeakable.

"What is it?" Jareth asked, his tone sharp.

But Fujin didn't respond. Her focus was locked on a shadowy figure far in the distance, standing motionless on the horizon. It was barely visible, but its presence was oppressive, radiating a cold, malevolent energy that sent shivers down Jareth's spine. Even without Bahamut's influence, he could feel it—a threat unlike anything he had encountered before.

"No..." Fujin whispered, her voice trembling. "No, not now... not here."

Before Jareth could react, she lunged at him, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Her legs shook with every step, her body clearly at its limit, but she attacked with desperation. Wind blades, weaker than before but still sharp, flew toward him in erratic arcs. Jareth easily deflected them with his sword, his movements calm and precise.

"Fujin! Stop this madness!" he shouted, his voice echoing. "You can't even stand properly!"

But she didn't stop. She kept attacking, her strikes wild and unrelenting, even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. Her face was a mixture of terror and resolve, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Jareth dodged another strike, his expression hardening. "Enough!" he roared. With a single sweep of his sword, he knocked her back, disarming her of whatever strength she had left.

Yet she didn't retreat. With a sudden burst of energy, she ran straight toward him, her movements slow and clumsy but determined. Jareth prepared to block, his grip on the sword firm, but what happened next shocked him to his core.

Fujin didn't strike. Instead, she threw herself onto his blade, the sword piercing through her stomach. Her body jerked from the impact, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still.

"Fujin!" Jareth's voice broke, his eyes wide with disbelief. He started to pull his sword back, but her trembling hands gripped the blade, keeping it in place.

She leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her voice was faint, barely a whisper, but her words cut through him like a knife.

"Please... act as if I'm dead," she pleaded, her breath warm against his ear. "Save us... please... save us..."

Her body went limp, and Jareth caught her before she could collapse entirely. His chest tightened as he looked down at her pale face, her eyes closed, and her breathing shallow. Her earlier strength was gone, replaced by fragility. He felt a pang of guilt and sorrow, but he quickly pushed it down. He couldn't afford to show weakness—not now.

"What in the hell is going on, Bahamut?" Jareth muttered under his breath.

Bahamut's voice rumbled in his mind, calm yet firm. "She fears something far greater than you or me, boy. Whatever's watching us now, it's a threat we cannot face directly—not yet."

The dragon god's energy flowed through Jareth's hands as he cast a spell over Fujin, sealing her wound and stabilizing her condition. Golden light enveloped her, and her breathing steadied, though she remained unconscious.

"Will she survive?" Jareth asked quietly.

"She'll live, for now. But you must play your part. Whoever's watching us must believe she's dead."

Jareth nodded, his jaw tightening. He gently laid Fujin on the ground, positioning her to make it appear as though she had fallen in battle. Then he rose, his sword still glinting with her blood, and turned his gaze toward the distant shadow. His fiery aura reignited, and he raised his blade to the sky, his voice booming with a rage that echoed across the ruins.

"I killed you, Fujin!" he roared, his voice filled with mock fury. "This is what you deserve for selling out the gods!"

The distant shadow lingered, unmoving, but the oppressive presence it exuded slowly began to recede. Jareth stood tall, his eyes burning with intensity, even as his heart ached from the weight of his deception.

When he was certain the shadow was gone, he let out a shaky breath, his flames dimming. He looked down at Fujin's unconscious form, his expression unreadable.

"Save us," he murmured, her words echoing in his mind. He sheathed his sword, the metal sliding into place with a soft click.

As the winds settled and the battlefield fell silent, Jareth stood alone, the weight of what had just transpired pressing heavily on his shoulders.