@Background Pony #9946
 
This was spectacular.

Let’s seem them call her a liar now.

They said it was impossible. I even thought it was impossible. I just happened to disagree with myself on that point.
 
No-one else who tried succeeded. First, they saw a bear on the outside and assumed it to be like a bear on the inside. Then, they noted a translucent patch of stars and assumed that it would behave like a spirit. Finally, they gave up.
 
After them, no-one else took attempts seriously. After all, if it couldn’t be killed like a normal bear, and couldn’t be dissipated like a normal spirit, of course it must be a special case, something we can do jack squat about.
 
Of course it’s not a bear or spirit. It’s an bear-shaped abomination, a refutation of traditional biology in every way possible. It doesn’t bleed, breathe, or defecate. Its bones are stronger by volume than the Princesses’ armor and its soft tissues are just as far from ours. Its digestive track is a series of small suns hanging from a bone latticework girded by magic and permeated by strong magnetic and electric fields.
 
It’s not a spirit, either. From a magical perspective, it’s frighteningly close to monolithic. Its outer shell is a smooth, calm surface roughly concurrent to its visible skin, as opposed to the currents of a proper sprite. Its inner shell is homogeneous in its own way; exhibits great turbulence on a scale that makes most randomization attacks useless. On the large scale, the moving flows are steady and apparently coherent, heat flows arising from lower-level chaos. There is no obvious fine structure to exploit.
 
It was confounding. Was this creature flesh, that could be attacked through geometry? Was this a creature of current, that could be harmed by means of flow?
 
Many failed. I too, was destined for failure, until I remembered the basic principle: the relative absence of disorder requires work, either in the form of energy applied to or information about a system.
 
I stepped back, saw the large flows, and inferred the structures that could give rise to them. I conducted raids, painstakingly obtaining tissue samples and aura signatures to narrow the possibilities.
 
Finally, I had a method that would allow me to stand alone against the beasts that now-extinct gods feared.
 
The energy requirements of the brute-force method (one that required armies of mages simultaneously tearing apart the physical and nonphysical aspects of the Ursa) seemed like a bad joke next to the figures possible with even moderately-suitable material. However, I did not do things by halves; I struck the earth in the New Tartarus wastelands, seeking the metal of gods and stone of demons, to ensure that I would have more than one shot.
 
I only needed one in the end. The brilliant blue bullet left no entry wound. The death was a spectacle that shook the ground and sent ripples of magical noise across the plains.
 
Naturally, I took great joy in this victory. This joy was dominated the visceral pleasure of watching a plan succeed.
 
Every day, I live with the fact that, among the creatures that have walked the world, I and my ilk am far from the mightiest in physical strength or arcane influence. That does not change the fact that I, for a moment, have done something no other being in known history deemed possible.
 
I am sure that you will, if only in jest, assume that I somehow found this exercise of power reason to declare might and bask in glory. I assure you that the result is quite different. Standing there, seeing a specimen of a being so invincible as to be assumed a constant of the world felled by the effort of one of the “lesser races”, I felt so insignificant, like a child first witnessing the vast world outside the nursery.
 
I understand that my ramblings may be worth little to you. Perhaps, if I had spent years rather than months, I would have a story that would at least attract your sympathy.
 
I present to you, Twilight Sparkle, Element of Magic, the schematics of the method by which I slew this Ursa in the package of documents that came with this letter. Below, in the encrypted crystal,  
are the coordinates of the corpse. You are welcome to come alone or accompanied by your associates to take and analyze tissue samples.
 
Sincerely,  
Bright Lance of the Wastes, formerly Great and Powerful,  
Trixie Lulamoon.

Cool mares don’t look at beat Ursas,  
They vanquish them up and then walk away…

And then it explodes and Trixie doesn’t even turn around.