Kokuto stood amidst the settling gray ruin, Shinji's unconscious form draped over his shoulder like a sack of grain. The Swordwrath Monarch's gaze swept the desolation, lingering on Torento's grotesquely twisted corpse. A flicker of disdain crossed his impassive features. With a negligent wave of his free hand, a pulse of void-dark energy erupted, engulfing the fallen Monarch. No flame, no smoke; Torento's body simply unraveled, dissolving into motes of ash that scattered on the silent wind, joining the eternal fall. No eulogy. No marker. Only erasure.
Spatial energy crackled around Kokuto. He stepped forward, not into a rift, but through the fabric of reality itself, folding distance into insignificance with pure speed. Universe 6 blurred and vanished behind him as he traversed the shimmering, chaotic currents of the void, Shinji a dead weight against the unnatural stillness of his crimson scarf. His destination: Universe 3. His objective: the Fifth Trascender. Saganbo's command was absolute.
Merus materialized back in the cavern sanctuary within moments of Kokuto's departure. The air still thrummed with the fading echoes of cataclysm – the psychic scream of Nirvana's final attack, the thunderclap of Shinji's desperate detonations, the chilling silence after Kokuto's void-shear. But the overwhelming, clashing signatures – Shinji's defiant golden-green storm, Nirvana's decaying pink miasma, Torento's chaotic pulse – were gone. Snuffed out. Only the cold, sterile scent of void-travel and a lingering ozone burn remained.
*Where is he?* Merus's cerulean skin seemed to pale, his ancient eyes scanning the psychic residue. *The energy... it didn't fade naturally. It was... severed. Captured? Don't tell me he actually fell... Did they take him?* A cold dread, deeper than any cosmic void, settled in his gut. The Trascender, their hope, their weapon against oblivion... silenced.
A soft groan echoed from the cavern floor. Miryoku stirred, her starlight hair tangled, her luminous violet eyes fluttering open, filled with confusion and residual pain. She pushed herself up, wincing as her bandaged chest protested.
"Y-You're awake?" Merus's voice was taut, the usual divine resonance strained.
Miryoku's gaze darted around the cavern, taking in Merus's grim expression, the absence of Shinji, and Kuro still unconscious nearby. "Merus... what happened? The battle... Shinji?"
Merus knelt beside her, his voice low and urgent. "The energies vanished. Abruptly. Nirvana and Torento... their signatures are extinguished. Shinji's... gone. Not dead – his core signature persists, faintly, but it's moving. Fast. Away from here. He was taken." The word hung heavy in the air. Taken.
Miryoku's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "Taken? By... by the Monarch? How do we get him back?!"
"One Monarch signature remains faintly in the residue," Merus said, his mind racing, tracing the psychic trail Kokuto left. "The victor. He took Shinji... but he's not heading towards Saganbo's core universe going to the 7th's direction. He's vectored towards the 5th... a significant detour. Why bypass the direct route? Why risk encountering us if he looped back? It makes no tactical sense unless..." His brow furrowed. "Unless his primary mission wasn't just Shinji."
Another groan. Kuro stirred, his obsidian eyes snapping open with sharp, analytical clarity, instantly taking in the situation: Merus's tension, Miryoku's distress, Shinji's absence. He sat up, rubbing his temple where Nirvana's Rod had struck him. "Status report," he demanded, his voice raspy but focused.
"Alright," Merus said, standing, his form radiating a renewed, grim determination. "Since you're both functional, listen closely. Kokuto – the Swordwrath Monarch – has Shinji. He's unconscious but alive. Kokuto is en route away from Saganbo's throne, towards Universe 5, but he must eventually return to Universe 3523. We intercept him before he delivers Shinji. We hit him hard, we hit him fast. Kuro, you have the key."
Kuro's hand instinctively went to the obsidian fragment tucked into his belt – the largest remaining piece of Nirvana's Rod, humming with residual, unsettling power. "The Monarch-suppressor. Understood."
Earth (Universe 3, Galaxy 11, Planet 556) – Tokyo
Kokuto stepped out of the folded space onto solid ground. Or what should have been solid ground. The air hit him first – thick, coppery, choking. The scent of blood, vast and oceanic. Then the sight.
Tokyo was gone. Not ruined. Drowned. A cityscape submerged beneath a knee-deep lake of still-warm, viscous crimson. Skyscrapers, their upper floors eerily intact, speared through the surface like the masts of sunken ships, their lower halves lost in the gore. The familiar streets, parks, landmarks – all vanished beneath this impossible, glistening red tide. A heavy, bloody mist hung low, painting the twilight sky a bruised purple-red, diffusing the weak sunlight into a hellish glow. Silence, profound and unnatural, pressed down, broken only by the slow, thick drip of blood from shattered windows.
Kokuto's usual icy composure cracked. His eyes widened a fraction, a rare flicker of genuine shock, quickly replaced by wary assessment. The sheer volume of blood... the scale of the slaughter... it spoke of power beyond mere destruction. It spoke of consumption. And the energy... a crushing, suffocating pressure of spiritual energy saturated the air, thick with primal rage and an insatiable, terrifying bloodlust. It dwarfed anything he'd felt from Shinji. It felt... older. More feral.
*This... has changed. Dramatically. I didn't think... it would be you.* He adjusted Shinji's limp form on his shoulder, his grip tightening on his sword hilt.
Movement. Atop a half-submerged Shibuya Scramble billboard, a figure stood silhouetted against the bloody haze. Small. Slight. Drenched head-to-toe in the same crimson that drowned the city. It wasn't wearing the blood; it seemed made of it. Its head slowly turned towards Kokuto, features obscured by dripping gore and shadow. Its gaze, when it found Shinji slung over Kokuto's shoulder, was unnervingly blank. Empty. Yet focused.
A guttural, wet sound rasped from the figure, words forming with immense difficulty through a throat seemingly clogged with viscera: "T..h...a.t... i..s..."
Kokuto's voice was tight, controlled, masking the sudden, instinctive alarm bells ringing in his mind. "Yeah. Yeah. Whatever you are, you're coming with me. Lord Saganbo commands it." He took a cautious step forward, his boot sinking slightly into the thick blood-lake with a sickening schlup.
The figure didn't react. Didn't tense. It simply existed, radiating that suffocating, bloody aura. Kokuto took another step, the distance closing. Ten meters. Five.
The figure's head tilted back slightly. Its mouth opened, not to speak, but to unleash.
"AAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!"
It wasn't just a scream. It was a physical wave of pure, concussive hatred and blood-soaked spiritual energy, ripped from the figure's core. The bloody lake exploded upwards in a concentric tidal wave. Skyscrapers groaned and visibly bent like saplings in a hurricane. The very bedrock of Tokyo fractured with seismic roars, vast chasms splitting open to swallow buildings whole, vomiting geysers of fresh blood skyward. The bloody mist was blasted away in an instant, replaced by a choking cloud of pulverized concrete, steel, and atomized gore that engulfed everything.
Kokuto was physically hurled backward, skidding through the blood, barely keeping his footing, instinctively shielding Shinji with his body. His eyes, wide with genuine astonishment now, scanned the billboard through the settling, crimson dust. Gone. The figure had vanished. Not just physically. Its overwhelming, terrifying spiritual signature – that crushing pressure of bloodlust – had vanished from the universe entirely, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. As if it had never been.
He stood frozen for a long moment amidst the apocalyptic ruin, the silence returning, heavier than before. Blood dripped from his chin where he'd bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. Failed. Utterly. The Fifth Trascender was beyond him. Beyond comprehension. A primal force unleashed. The shame of retreat warred with cold pragmatism. *But... I still have the Fourth.* He looked down at Shinji's unconscious face. *This will have to suffice.*
He adjusted his grip on Shinji, the crimson scarf brushing the Trascender's cheek. With a final, wary glance at the drowned, shattered corpse of Tokyo, he stepped back into the void, folding space towards Universe 3523. The guilt was a cold stone in his stomach, but duty demanded its delivery.
The Stardust Weaver shuddered as Merus pushed its stardrive to the brink. Miryoku clutched her seat, her face pale but determined. Kuro monitored complex scanners, Nirvana's Rod fragment held ready like a scientist's probe.
"Energy spike! Massive spatial displacement!" Kuro barked. "Vector confirmed – exiting void-travel near the 6th/7th boundary! It's him!"
"Now!" Merus commanded. The ship tore through the dimensional membrane, emerging directly into Kokuto's path as he materialized from the void, Shinji still draped over his shoulder.
Kokuto stopped mid-stride, his expression registering mild surprise that quickly smoothed into icy disdain. Miryoku and Kuro materialized beside Merus in flashes of light and teleportation energy.
"How pleasant," Kokuto's voice was a dry rasp. "Being greeted a second time by the God of Creation. Bringing friends to the farewell?"
Merus's cerulean skin glowed with restrained power. "You! The Swordwrath! Release him!"
Kuro's sharp eyes scanned Kokuto. "I don't have this one's profile. New model?"
"He's old trouble," Merus growled, divine energy coiling around him. "And we're taking Shinji back. Now."
Kokuto didn't shift his stance, but his free hand moved subtly closer to his sword. "Apologies. I have cargo to deliver. The first time, my mission was assessment. Now? If you impede me..." His obsidian eyes locked onto Merus, radiating lethal intent. "...ending a diminished God holds no qualms for me."
He moved to step around them, dismissing them as obstacles. It was a fatal miscalculation.
Merus moved with god-speed, not to strike, but to grab. His hand clamped onto Kokuto's sword arm just below the shoulder, divine energy flaring, momentarily anchoring the Monarch. "Kuro! NOW!"
Kuro was already moving. Not with supernatural speed, but with perfect, calculated timing. He lunged, not at Kokuto, but past him, swinging the jagged obsidian shard of Nirvana's Rod like a club. It connected solidly with Kokuto's back.
CRACK!
A shockwave of dissonant pink energy erupted from the point of impact. Kokuto gasped, a sound utterly alien to him. His stark white hair didn't just change color – it bleached from the roots outwards into a sickly, dull moderate red. His eyes widened, not in pain, but in profound shock and sudden, overwhelming fatigue. The crushing pressure of his aura visibly dimmed.
"Oh, there's no way," Kokuto breathed, genuine astonishment breaking through his icy facade. He stared at Kuro, then the Rod fragment. "You recovered Nirvana's conduit? Did you?"
Kuro landed lightly, holding the shard ready. "Found it floating in the debris field. Useful, isn't it? Surprised a Monarch can feel surprise."
"Quickly, Kuro!" Merus yelled, straining against Kokuto's sudden surge of desperate strength. "Again! Before he adapts!"
Kuro darted forward, the Rod aimed for Kokuto's head. But the Monarch, even weakened, was still a whirlwind. He twisted violently, breaking Merus's grip with a surge of void-energy, and simultaneously lashed out with a boot. The kick caught Merus in the chest, sending the God staggering back with a grunt of pain.
Kokuto's hand shot out, not for his sword, but to snatch the Rod fragment from Kuro. His fingers brushed the obsidian—
—As Kuro's other foot snapped up in a perfectly timed front kick, the reinforced toe of his boot connecting squarely with Kokuto's jaw. CRUNCH! Bone cracked. At the same instant, Miryoku unleashed a focused torrent of harmonic light, not to harm, but to blind and disorient, a concussive blast of pure luminosity that hammered into Kokuto's chest.
FWOOOOM!
Staggered, blinded, his hair blazing an unnatural red, Kokuto reeled. Kuro pressed the advantage, darting in low for another strike with the Rod. But Kokuto, tasting his own blood, fueled by humiliation and the imperative of his mission, didn't fight. He fled. Void-energy flared wildly around him as he wrenched spacetime open and hurled himself through, not towards the 7th, but deeper into the void, towards the 3523rd universe.
"I am truly ashamed!" his voice echoed back, strained and furious, already fading into the collapsing rift. "Running... it stains a warrior's spirit! But Lord Saganbo's command is paramount! Fighting shackled by cargo and this... abomination..." His voice dripped venom for the Rod. "...is not a battle, it's suicide! Face me unburdened, God, and we write a different ending!"
"DON'T LET HIM BREACH THE 7TH!" Merus roared, surging forward. "IT'S OVER IF HE DOES!"
Merus, Miryoku, and Kuro poured every ounce of speed into the pursuit, tearing through the void after the fading ripple of Kokuto's passage. They were a comet of desperation chasing a shadow. They reached the threshold of Universe 7 just as the last echoes of Kokuto's spatial distortion faded within it. They burst through—
—To see Kokuto, already a distant speck receding towards the core of the 7th Universe, his hair flickering back to its stark white as the Rod's influence faded with distance. He vanished into the starfield, Shinji still with him.
They hovered at the boundary, defeated. The void felt colder than ever.
A new spatial ripple announced another arrival. The Whispering Wind materialized roughly, Shirou leaning out of the airlock, his usual grin fading as he took in their despairing faces hovering in the void.
"Merus!" Shirou called, his voice cutting the silence. "Who're the new faces? And why the long faces? Did someone cancel payday?"
Merus turned, his cerulean face etched with profound weariness, the light in his eyes dimmed. He looked at Shirou, then back towards the vastness of Universe 7, where their hope was disappearing into Saganbo's grasp.
"It's over," Merus whispered, the words heavy with the weight of galaxies. "He's gone."
Throne Room – Universe 3523
Amado materialized silently beside the Obsidian Throne, his drowned-moonlight blue skin absorbing the ambient light of dying stars woven into the architecture. "My Lord. Kokuto has returned. He... failed to secure the Fifth."
Saganbo, lounging on the throne of weeping neutron stars, paused mid-bite into a fruit that screamed silently. "Failed?!" Purple energy crackled around him. "That incompetent—!"
"However," Amado continued smoothly, "he successfully secured and is delivering the Fourth Trascender. Kazuhiko Shinji as we speak."
Saganbo's fury vanished, replaced by manic glee. He shot upright, scattering stellar fragments. "He GOT HIM?! The Fourth?! This is HUGE! Monumental!" He danced a little jig on the dais. "The Fifth slipped away, fine! Can't be too greedy! But one Trascender in my grasp?!" He laughed, a sound like grinding planets. "This changes EVERYTHING!"
A spatial tear ripped open with a sound like tearing metal. Dentetsu stepped through, barefoot onto the star-metal floor, ignoring the courtly protocol. He scanned the room, his spiky dark hair unmoved, his expression one of profound boredom. "Place is loud. What's the ruckus?"
"THE TRASCENDER IS OURS!" Saganbo bellowed, pointing a dramatic finger towards Dentetsu.
Dentetsu raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine interest breaking through his apathy. "Oh? That's... kinda cool. Who bagged him? Not you, surely?" His tone was deliberately dismissive.
"Kokuto delivered him," Amado supplied.
"Kokuto?" Dentetsu snorted, a dry, humorless sound. "Figures. The loyal hound fetches the prize. A swordsman with pride sharp enough to cut universes... yet he rolls over for a mad god." He shook his head, turning away.
Saganbo's glee evaporated into purple-black rage. "Huh?! What did you say, you ungrateful whelp?!"
Dentetsu didn't turn back. "Tchk. Nothing worth repeating to a loser." He started walking towards an exit.
"PROSTRATE YOURSELF, UNDERLING!" Saganbo roared, unleashing a wave of crushing, purple-dark spiritual energy that warped the very light in the throne room.
Dentetsu stopped. Slowly, he turned. A matching, terrifyingly dense aura of raw, untamed power erupted from him – not purple, but a deep, resentful black. The two energies collided mid-air, creating a visible distortion field, a silent warping of reality that made the star-metal floor groan.
Amado sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must we do this every time, my Lord? Dentetsu?"
The standoff held for five tense heartbeats. Then, simultaneously, both auras snapped back. Dentetsu turned on his heel and strode out without another word. Saganbo slumped back onto his throne, fuming but unwilling to escalate further now, not with his prize secured.
Amado smoothed his void-silk robes. "Kokuto performed adequately under... unexpected variables. Now, my Lord, regarding your newly acquired asset... what are your intentions? Dissection? Power extraction? A new trophy?"
Saganbo's eyes gleamed with manic, purple fire. He steepled his fingers, a dark, predatory smile spreading across his face. "Totally unreal... Two Trascenders. In one cosmic epoch. Madness. Glorious madness!" He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper thick with dark ambition. "And I hold one. This... this catapults me into an entirely new league! Beyond Hazon! Beyond Ero! Beyond the other bastards!" His grin widened, showing too many teeth. "With the Fourth's power as my crucible... who knows what godhood I can forge?"
A palpable aura, deep purple-black and crackling with unfathomable, hungry power, began to emanate from Saganbo for the first time. It wasn't just energy; it was ambition made manifest, a dark star igniting in the heart of his throne room as he pondered the horrific potential now bound within his vault. The Bind was complete.