The silence within the Stardust Weaver was a physical weight, thick with the ashes of failure and the chilling absence of Shinji's vibrant energy signature. Merus stood before the main viewport, not seeing the swirling emerald nebulae of Universe 7, but the stark image replaying endlessly: Kokuto, implacable as glacial ice, folding space with Shinji's limp form slung over his shoulder like a trophy. The path led inexorably to Universe 3523, to the Obsidian Throne, and to horrors Merus could scarcely articulate. Despair, cold and heavy, threatened to engulf him, a feeling alien to a God of Creation.
"Probability of successful extraction," Kuro's voice was a scalpel cutting through the gloom, devoid of inflection yet heavy with implication. He manipulated a complex holographic projection – a nightmarish schematic of Universe 3523 cobbled from Merus's fragmented memories and intercepted, heavily encrypted Monarch chatter. Crimson markers pulsed like infected wounds: Monarch garrisons, automated Annihilation Platforms, psychic sentinel fields. At the center, a pulsing black sphere represented the Null-Crypt, Shinji's likely prison. "Factoring Saganbo's confirmed presence, high probability of at least three additional Monarchs on-site, Amado's near-omniscient surveillance, the Null-Crypt's theoretical defenses, and our current assets..." The numbers cascaded across the display. "Approximately 0.00073%. Margin of error: ±0.0001%. Statistically indistinguishable from oblivion."
Miryoku flinched as if struck, the soft turquoise light she unconsciously radiated flickering. "We can't accept that! We can't leave him to... to whatever Saganbo plans!" Her voice cracked, not with fear, but with a fierce, protective rage that made the air hum. Shinji wasn't just the Trascender; he was the friend who shared stories of Earth under Luminara's auroras, the grieving brother who trained with desperate fury, the stubborn spark that defied gods. Images flooded her: his grin as they plummeted down the Stellar Stream, the quiet sorrow at his mother's grave, the defiant fire in his eyes even facing Nirvana and Torento.
Shirou leaned against a bulkhead, meticulously disassembling Emerald. The rhythmic snick-click of components was unnervingly loud in the silence. "Point-seven-three-whatever percent," he drawled, his usual flippancy edged with a grim sharpness. "Sounds like my usual Tuesday odds. Usually means the payout's worth bleeding for. Question is, Blue," he looked directly at Merus, his gaze uncharacteristically serious, "what's the play? Besides a one-way ticket to a cosmic woodchipper? Dust is Dust, but disassembly by a pissed-off God of Destruction sounds messy."
Merus finally turned from the void. The ancient weariness in his cerulean eyes was profound, but beneath it flickered a desperate, steely resolve. "The objective is extraction, Shirou, not martyrdom. Direct assault is impossible. Stealth against Amado's perception is a fantasy woven by fools. We require an edge. A vector in, and crucially, a vector out that bypasses Saganbo's spatial dominion and Amado's all-seeing gaze." He paused, the weight of his next words settling heavily. "And... I may have found it. Or rather, he found us. A... contact. From a time before Saganbo's shadow choked the light. He calls himself 'X'."
"A 'he'?" Kuro's head snapped up, sensors whirring faintly. "Undocumented variable. Credentials? Capabilities? Motivational vector? Unknowns introduce catastrophic risk multipliers."
"His existence is precarious," Merus admitted, choosing his words with the care of handling antimatter. "Known to vanishingly few, trusted by fewer. His ability is singular: Absolute Singular Warp."
Miryoku tilted her head, strands of starlight hair drifting. "Singular Warp?"
"One transit," Merus explained, holding up a single, glowing finger. "One destination. Unrestricted by divine barriers, conceptual locks, or Amado's perception. He can open a portal, once, to any single coordinate in the multiverse. And crucially," he emphasized, "he can open one portal back from that point. One insertion. One extraction. No second chances."
Shirou whistled, low and genuinely impressed. "One-shot teleport right into the belly of the beast and a ride home? Now that's an edge worth its weight in Space Dust. Bet he charges a premium."
"His price is our commitment," Merus stated, his voice gaining strength. "He perceives Saganbo's reign as a metastasizing blight upon existence. Removing Shinji from his grasp is a critical incision. X will deliver us to Universe 3523, proximate to the Null-Crypt's projected location. He will maintain position, concealed. When we have Shinji, we signal. He pulls us out. One chance. One jump in. One jump out. The margin for error is nonexistent."
Kuro absorbed this, fingers flying over his console, running simulations that inevitably crashed or returned error codes. "Probability of X's reliability? Source of capability? Motivational decay risk? These unknowns exponentially increase mission failure likelihood."
"His motivation is aligned with the cessation of Saganbo's tyranny, Kuro," Merus asserted, a flicker of his ancient divine authority resurfacing. "As for reliability... I trust him with the remnants of Creation itself. He preserved it once, when oblivion seemed inevitable." He offered no further details, but the absolute conviction in his tone brooked no argument. "But X alone is insufficient. We require force. Diversion. Utter, overwhelming chaos. We need allies capable of drawing the eyes of Monarchs away from our insertion point. Allies forged in fire, unbound by fear, or... bound by it in ways we can harness."
The sheer magnitude of the task hung in the air. Recruiting against Saganbo was like whispering rebellion into a supernova. Fear of the God of Destruction was the universal constant.
"Alright," Shirou pushed off the bulkhead, the pieces of Emerald magically reassembling in his hands with a final, decisive click. "Where do we start shopping for the gloriously suicidal or terminally optimistic?"
Merus's gaze hardened, focusing on the star chart. "We start where the embers of defiance still glow. And where desperation has honed unique... talents."
Pyras - (Universe 11, Galaxy 4)
The transition into Pyras's atmosphere was less a descent and more a violent entry into a living forge. The Stardust Weaver bucked and groaned as thermonuclear winds slammed against its shields. Outside, the view was apocalyptic. The sky was a permanent, bruised twilight, choked with swirling ash that blotted out any sun. Below, continents weren't landmasses; they were vast, slow-moving rivers of incandescent magma, their surfaces crusted with black, brittle obsidian that constantly cracked and reformed. Volcanoes, like festering boils on the planet's skin, spewed fountains of molten rock kilometers high, painting the ash clouds with fleeting, violent orange light. The heat seeped through the ship's advanced shielding, making the air inside taste of cinders and ozone. The only sound transmitted through the hull was a constant, low-frequency roar – the planet's agonized scream.
"Heat signatures exceeding theoretical mantle limits," Kuro reported, his voice strained slightly by the ship's vibrations. "Atmospheric composition: 78% superheated silicate particles, 15% sulfur compounds, 7% trace metals. Oxygen negligible. Gravity: 1.8x standard. This environment is incompatible with known carbon-based life."
"Yet someone lives here," Merus murmured, guiding the ship towards a cluster of jagged obsidian spires rising like rotten teeth from a particularly wide magma flow. "Scans pinpoint a life-sign. Faint. Flickering. Deep within that formation."
They found a boy with weirdly fluctuating energy signatures not by sophisticated sensors, but by following the palpable waves of terrified energy emanating from a precarious fissure halfway up the tallest spire. Landing on a relatively stable ledge was a feat of piloting that made Shirou grip his seat. Exiting the ship was like stepping into an oven set to 'vaporize'. The air seared lungs, the ash stung eyes, and the ground vibrated with the planet's relentless fury.
The fissure led into a cramped, stiflingly hot cavern carved by a past lava flow. The boy huddled in the farthest corner, partially buried under a mound of heat-resistant, fungus-like growths he seemed to be using as insulation. He was small, barely 167 centimeters, dwarfed by the hostile world. His most striking feature was his hair – a shock of vibrant orange, perpetually singed at the tips, looking like a flame struggling to survive in a hurricane. His clothes were patchwork marvels of salvaged heat-shielding and flexible rock-fiber, hanging loosely on his thin frame. Wide, terrified amber eyes, the color of cooling magma, darted frantically between the newcomers, reflecting the flickering orange glow from a small thermal vent.
"Who? What? Why here?!" His voice was high-pitched, brittle, cracking with panic. He flinched violently as a tremor, stronger than usual, shook the spire. Chunks of obsidian clattered down near the entrance. "See?! Unstable! Always unstable! Lava dreams! Rocks scream! Bad place! Very bad! Go away before it eats you too!" He tried to burrow deeper into the fungal mound, whimpering.
Miryoku stepped forward cautiously, radiating waves of soothing turquoise light. It created a small bubble of tolerable temperature and calm amidst the inferno. "Peace, Little one. We mean you no harm. We seek your help."
"My help?!" The boy let out a sound halfway between a giggle and a sob. "I help rocks fall! I help lava find new cracks! I help nothing! Helping you? Against what?" He peered out, eyes wide with genuine incomprehension. "No, no, no. Stupid idea. Very stupid. Loud noises make Pyras angry!" Another tremor emphasized his point, dust showering down.
Shirou leaned against the cavern entrance, surveying the hellscape. "Cozy. Needs a lava fountain. Maybe some screaming rock ambiance." He spat, the saliva sizzling instantly on the hot floor.
Kuro ignored him, his analytical gaze fixed on the boy. His scanners whirred, struggling against the ambient interference. "Anomalous bio-signature detected. Intense internal thermal regulation inconsistent with external environment. Fluctuating energy emissions... chaotic, powerful, suppressed. Explain the source."
He blinked, his frantic energy seeming to stutter. For a fleeting moment, his posture shifted. The cowering lessened, replaced by a chilling stillness. His eyes, when they met Kuro's, lost their panicked sheen, becoming flat, calculating, observing the scanner like a specimen. His voice, when it came, was lower, devoid of the earlier hysteria, almost detached. "It doesn't burn flesh. It burns potential. It itches. In the bones. In the thoughts." He tapped his temple with a surprisingly steady finger. Then, as if a switch flipped, the terror flooded back, his shoulders hunching, his voice rising to a whine. "It hurts! Makes the shadows laugh! Don't want it! Go away!"
Merus knelt slowly, bringing himself closer to the boy's eye level, ignoring the searing heat radiating from the floor. He projected calm, but his eyes held the gravity of galaxies. "The burning. The itching. The fear... it's not just pain. It's power. Power born of this fire. Power that resonates with Pyras itself. Power that... Saganbo fears." He let the name hang in the superheated air. "A being of ultimate destruction has taken a friend of ours. A young man, full of life, kindness... and pain. Saganbo will break him. Use his very essence to shatter realities. We go to stop him. To bring him home. We need someone who understands the heart of fire. Who can turn chaos... into a shield. We need you."
He whimpered, pulling his knees tighter, burying his face. "Scary god... Big fire... Bigger than Pyras?" He peeked through his fingers, his gaze drawn to Miryoku's calming light. "Your friend... he screams now?"
"He will," Merus said, his voice heavy as neutron star matter. "Screams that will echo through dead universes. If we don't help him."
A profound tremor ran through the boy, deeper than the planet's vibrations. It was an internal earthquake. His eyes darted wildly, not just in fear now, but with a frantic, almost visible internal battle. The cold, detached observer flickered behind the amber terror, assessing Merus, weighing his words. "Distract..." he muttered, the word a strange amalgam of fear and detached strategy. "Fire... can distract. Big fires. Confusing fires. Like when the Sky-Vomits." He pointed vaguely upwards where a volcano was currently painting the ash clouds. "Makes Pyras look away... sometimes." He looked directly at Merus, a spark of something unreadable – a sliver of desperate courage, perhaps, or just the calculation of the scared creature seeking leverage. "If... if I make the biggest fire... the loudest distraction... will the scary god look away? Will your friend... stop screaming?"
"Yes," Miryoku said, her voice unwavering, her light pulsing with conviction. "Your fire could be the beacon that guides him home."
He hugged himself so tightly he seemed to shrink further. He looked impossibly fragile against the backdrop of planetary fury, a candle guttering in a hurricane. Minutes stretched, filled only by the roar of Pyras and his ragged breathing. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he uncurled. He didn't stand tall – he seemed incapable of it – but the frantic cowering lessened. A shaky breath escaped him, puffing ash from his lips. "Okay, Name's Netsudo." he whispered, the word almost lost in the cavern's rumble. "Okay. I'll... try. For the no-screaming. But..." His eyes darted nervously to the trembling walls. "...no promises! Pyras is sneaky! And... and I get really scared!"
"Join the club, Sparks," Shirou muttered, but his usual sarcasm was absent, replaced by a grudging respect for the sheer guts it took to agree.
Meanwhile Merus smiles as he extends a hand to Netsudo. "Glad to have you, Netsudo."
Veridian Canopy - The Heartwood Realm (Universe 9, Galaxy 2)
Leaving the scorched, silent hell of Pyras felt like escaping a pressure cooker. Transitioning into Veridian Canopy's atmosphere was like plunging into a liquid emerald dream. The Stardust Weaver descended through skies perpetually dappled green and gold by sunlight filtering through a canopy kilometers high. Below, a world drowned not in blood or fire, but in life, unfolded.
Giant trees, their trunks wider than city blocks, soared upwards, disappearing into the misty green heights. Their bark was like sculpted jade, veined with pulsating bioluminescent moss. Vines thicker than Shirou's ship draped between them, forming natural highways. The air was thick, warm, and humid, saturated with the scent of rich loam, exotic blooms, and ozone from cascading waterfalls hidden within the foliage. The silence of space was replaced by a deafening, vibrant cacophony – the shrieks of unseen avians, the drone of colossal insects, the deep, resonant calls of creatures moving in the verdant depths far below, and the constant rustle-sigh of leaves on an unimaginable scale.
They didn't need scanners to find their possible ally. They followed the sound.
"HYAH! PERFECT CONNECTION! FEEL THE VIBRATION, OAK-BROTHER? THAT'S THE SPIRIT! HAHA!"
"WHOOSH! WIND DANCE! GENTLE BUT FIRM! LIKE KAGAYA'S HUGS!"
The sounds led them to a colossal clearing – not man-made, but formed by the space between five titanic tree roots that rose like moss-covered mountains. Sunlight, rare and precious at this level, streamed down in golden shafts, illuminating a scene of breathtaking, chaotic vitality. Bioluminescent fungi pulsed rainbow hues on every surface. Giant, iridescent beetles the size of dogs trundled through ferns taller than Miryoku. And in the center, moving with impossible grace for his size, was Kagaya.
He stood 223 centimeters tall, a monument of corded muscle and vibrant energy. Bare-chested save for thick, woven vine straps crossing his torso, his skin was a deep, healthy brown, etched from neck to ankles with intricate, glowing green tribal markings that pulsed rhythmically, mirroring his heartbeat. His hair was a wild, dark green mane, tied back with braided vines woven with bright flowers and shimmering beetle shells. He wasn't fighting. He was... communing.
With a stone maul the size of Miryoku, named "Boulder-Breaker" and etched with glowing green runes, he performed a dance of pure, joyful power. He wasn't smashing; he was redirecting. A small rockslide, triggered by a distant creature's movement, tumbled towards a cluster of delicate, glowing blue orchids. Kagaya moved – a blur of green and brown – interposing himself. With a grunt of effort and a perfectly timed, sweeping motion of Boulder-Breaker, he guided the falling rocks, channeling their momentum in a wide arc away from the flowers, sending them crashing harmlessly into a thick patch of resilient ferns.
"SEE? FLOW, NOT FIGHT! ROCK-FRIENDS JUST NEED DIRECTION! GENTLE PERSUASION!" He beamed at the undisturbed orchids, then spun, facing a small whirlwind of leaves kicked up by a passing giant moth. Instead of dispersing it, he stepped into it, spreading his arms, laughing as the wind whipped his hair and vines. "FEEL THAT? LIFE'S BREATH! COOL AND STRONG! GOOD FOR THE SOUL!" He emerged moments later, grinning, leaves stuck in his hair.
He spotted them then. His green eyes, bright with unfiltered delight, widened further. "VISITORS! NEW FRIENDS! WELCOME TO THE HEARTWOOD! I AM KAGAYA! STRONGEST TREE-SHIFTER IN THREE GALAXIES! WANT TO SEE ME LIFT THE SKY-ROOT?" He pointed enthusiastically at a gargantuan root arching overhead, easily the size of a small asteroid.
Miryoku couldn't help but smile, some of the lingering dread from Pyras momentarily lifted by the sheer, unadulterated life-force radiating from the giant. Shirou just stared, momentarily speechless. Kuro adjusted his goggles, scanners whirring intensely.
"Biomechanical readings... extraordinary," Kuro murmured. "Muscle density exceeds theoretical biological limits. Skeletal structure reinforced with crystalline cellulose matrix. Rapid cellular regeneration directly linked to ambient bio-energy field absorption. Neurological patterns indicate... hyper-connectivity with local ecosystem. Estimated kinetic output: Catastrophic."
"KINETIC OUTPUT! I LIKE THAT! SOUNDS STRONG! JUST LIKE THE HEARTWOOD! JUST LIKE KAGAYA!" He boomed, effortlessly hoisting Boulder-Breaker onto his massive shoulder. The markings on his skin flared brighter. "WHAT BRINGS NEW FRIENDS TO THE GREEN HEART? ADMIRING THE FLOWERS? FEELING THE WIND? OR..." His expression shifted slightly, the boundless enthusiasm focusing into a surprisingly sharp intensity. "...NEEDING STRONG HANDS?"
Merus stepped forward, feeling the vibrant life-energy of the Canopy like a physical pressure. "We need strong hands, Kagaya right? Strong heart too. A friend of ours, a good man, has been taken by a very bad one. A destroyer. We need to go into a dark, dangerous place to get him back. We need a storm. A big, loud, distracting storm to make the bad one look away while we help our friend."
Kagaya's grin didn't vanish, but it changed. It became fiercer, protective. He slammed Boulder-Breaker's head into the soft earth with a resonant THOOM!, making the ground shudder and nearby beetles skitter away. "A FRIEND STOLEN? BY A DESTROYER?" His voice lost none of its volume, but gained a hard edge. "THAT IS NOT ALLOWED! FRIENDS ARE FOR PROTECTING! STRONG HANDS ARE FOR SMASHING BAD THINGS! KAGAYA HATES DESTROYERS! THEY HURT THE GREEN! HURT THE SMALL THINGS!" He gestured protectively at the glowing orchids he'd saved. "YOUR FRIEND... HE IS SMALL? LIKE THE ORCHIDS?"
"He is... compared to the one who took him," Merus said carefully, sensing Kagaya's unique perspective. "He needs protecting. We need someone who can be the biggest, loudest storm imaginable. To draw all eyes. To keep the destroyer busy."
Kagaya puffed out his chest, the tribal markings blazing like emerald fire. "A STORM? I CAN BE A STORM! THE BIGGEST STORM! A HURRICANE OF HAPPY SMASHING! THE LOUDEST NOISES! THE BRIGHTEST LIGHTS! THE MOST... DISTRACTING!" He threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the giant trees. "YOUR FRIEND NEEDS HELP? KAGAYA HELPS! THAT'S WHAT STRONG FRIENDS DO! EVEN NEW ONES! WHEN DO WE LEAVE? CAN I BRING BOULDER-BREAKER? SHE'S A GOOD SMASHER! VERY LOYAL!"
He looked around at the vibrant clearing, the giant trees, the teeming life. "HEARTWOOD! I GO TO HELP SMALL FRIEND! BE GOOD WHILE KAGAYA IS GONE! NO BIG FIGHTS!" He patted the nearest colossal root affectionately. It seemed to pulse faintly in response. He then turned back, beaming, radiating an almost terrifying eagerness. "READY TO STORM! LET'S GO RESCUE FRIEND! YAHOOOOO!" His final bellow shook leaves from the canopy kilometers above, a declaration of war delivered with pure, unadulterated joy.
Miryoku's smile widened, touched with awe. Kagaya wasn't just strong; he was a force of nature, pure and uncomplicated. His enthusiasm wasn't naivety; it was the conviction of absolute strength wielded for protection. It was a potent antidote to despair.
The Whispering Nebula (Neutral Void Space)
The Stardust Weaver hung suspended within the Whispering Nebula – a vast, soundless expanse of ethereal gas clouds that absorbed vibrations like cosmic velvet. The oppressive heat of Pyras and the vibrant cacophony of Veridian Canopy were replaced by an eerie, muffled stillness that pressed in on the senses. Inside the ship, the tension was a live wire, humming with anticipation, fear, and grim resolve.
Netsudo paced a tight circle near the airlock, flinching at every minor system hum, his orange hair practically vibrating with nervous energy. He muttered constantly under his breath: "Cold space... Too quiet... Bad for fires... Sneaky shadows..." He clutched a small, perpetually warm chunk of obsidian from Pyras like a talisman. Kagaya, in stark contrast, radiated barely contained excitement. He stood like a monolith of muscle, running a whetstone along the edge of Boulder-Breaker with rhythmic shhhk-shhhk sounds, his emerald eyes gleaming with fierce anticipation. He occasionally shadow-boxed the air, whispering "DISTRACT! SMASH! LOUD!" to himself.
Shirou leaned against the bulkhead, meticulously checking and rechecking Emerald's exotic ammunition – star-core slugs, micro-gravitic imploders, plasma stream cartridges. His usual sardonic mask was firmly in place, but his eyes held the focused intensity of a predator on the hunt. Kuro ran final simulations on a holographic tablet, Nirvana's Rod fragment secured in a heavily insulated holster at his hip, its dissonant hum a constant, unsettling counterpoint to the ship's systems. Miryoku stood beside Merus, weaving subtle patterns of calming turquoise light that lapped gently against the shores of Netsudo's fear and Kagaya's fervor, barely making a dent in either.
Merus watched the nebula's slowly shifting colors – blues, violets, deep umbers – his ancient face etched with the weight of what was to come. "He approaches."
Without warning, a section of the nebula directly ahead of the viewport rippled. It wasn't a ship decloaking; it was space itself folding inwards, not tearing, but parting like dark, seamless curtains. From the impossible aperture stepped a single figure.
X.
He was enveloped head-to-toe in a cloak of shifting, non-reflective grey material that seemed to absorb the nebula's faint luminescence, leaving no highlights, no texture. It hung perfectly straight, obscuring any hint of humanoid shape beneath. No face was visible within the deep cowl, only an abyssal darkness deeper than the void between galaxies. He carried no visible implements. He radiated no discernible energy signature – not divine, not spiritual, not technological, not even the chilling negation of the void. He was simply... an absence. A walking lacuna in the fabric of perception and reality.
He moved silently, impossibly, across the void, his feet making no contact with anything, and stepped onto the Weaver's extended boarding ramp. The air inside the ship seemed to chill several degrees. Netsudo let out a strangled yelp and scrambled behind Kagaya's massive legs, peeking out with terrified eyes. Kagaya lowered Boulder-Breaker slightly, his usual boisterousness replaced by a low, instinctive rumble deep in his chest. "SPOOKY GREY. KAGAYA FEELS... NOTHING. LIKE EMPTY NEST. WEIRD." He instinctively shifted to shield Netsudo more fully.
Shirou's finger hovered near Emerald's trigger, his casual slouch gone, replaced by coiled readiness. Kuro's scanners emitted a frantic series of error chimes. "Sensory occlusion complete. No thermal signature. No energy emission. No mass displacement detected. Acoustic profile: Null. Threat assessment: Impossible. Origin: Unknown."
Miryoku felt a profound chill that bypassed physical sensation, touching her very soul. This being felt immeasurably old, older than Merus, older perhaps than the concept of time within their multiverse. And utterly, terrifyingly alien.
Merus stepped forward, bowing his head in a gesture of deep, ancient respect. "X. Your presence honors us. Thank you."
The cloaked figure inclined its head – the barest suggestion of movement within the impenetrable cowl. A voice emanated, not from a mouth, but seemingly from the space around them, resonating directly in their minds. It was androgynous, toneless, devoid of inflection, yet carrying an immeasurable weight, like mountains grinding together in silence.
"The Equation Tolerates No Singularity Of Tyranny. Saganbo's Variable Disrupts Cosmic Equilibrium. Trascender Designation Four Must Be Recovered To Restore Balance Parameters. State Readiness Vector."
"We are ready," Merus stated, his voice steady, resonating with the authority of a God of Creation tempered by desperate resolve. He turned to face the assembled group, a disparate band bound by shared purpose against impossible odds:
Kuro: The brilliant, pragmatic analyst, holding stolen Monarch power, his mind a weapon sharper than any blade.
Miryoku: The weaver of light and harmony, her compassion a shield and her resolve forged in fire, a beacon in the coming darkness.
Shirou: The cynical hunter, his aim unnervingly true, his loyalty bought but genuine, a wildcard with a heart buried deep.
Netsudo: The terrified furnace, his power born of planetary agony, a chaotic storm waiting to be unleashed, trembling but present.
Kagaya: The unstoppable force of nature, his strength matched only by his joyful conviction, a battering ram of pure, protective fury.
X: The silent enigma, the architect of their impossible transit, a hole in reality itself.
It wasn't an army. It was a gamble stitched together with desperation and hope. A patchwork of the extraordinary against the monolithic power of a mad god.
Merus drew himself up to his full height, the weariness momentarily burned away by the fierce light of purpose. His cerulean skin glowed with a soft, determined luminescence that pushed back the nebula's gloom.
"Attend," his voice resonated through the ship, clear and commanding. "Kokuto, The Swordwrath Monarch and Saganbo's underling, has taken Shinji Kazuhiko, the Trascender, to Universe 3523. Saganbo intends to break his spirit, shatter his power, and consume his essence to fuel his eternal reign of annihilation and accomplish other selfish motives. We will not allow this."
His gaze swept over them, acknowledging their fears, their strengths, their uniqueness.
"Kuro, Miryoku, Shirou – You know Shinji. You fight for him. For the friend, the brother, the stubborn light that defies the dark or even your benefactor. You fight for the future he carries."
"Netsudo, Kagaya – You fight because it is right. Because strength exists to shield the vulnerable. Because chaos can be a weapon against tyranny. Because sometimes, the only answer to destruction is a bigger, louder distraction."
"X – You fight for the balance of all things."
His eyes finally settled on the featureless void within X's cowl. "We have one transit. One insertion point, initially near the Null-Crypt but that changed, I'll explain in depth later. One objective: Locate Shinji, extract him, and signal for extraction. Kuro will bypass the Crypt's defenses upon arrival. Miryoku, Shirou – Cover our advance and secure the extraction path. Netsudo, Kagaya – You are the storm. Unleash chaos. Be undeniable. Draw every Monarch, every guard, every eye away from our position but do your outmost best to not engage in fights with them. Make Saganbo himself turn his gaze upon you. Be the distraction that shakes his fortress."
He took a final breath, the light around him intensifying, a small sun in the artificial night of the ship. "This is a rescue. Speed is our ally. Surprise is our weapon. Get in. Get Shinji. Get out. Understood? Maximum efficiency!"
"UNDERSTOOD! KAGAYA WILL BE BEST STORM! LOUDEST STORM! MOST SMASHY STORM! SCARY GOD WILL SEE KAGAYA FIRST! YEAH!" Kagaya roared, hefting Boulder-Breaker, his markings blazing.
Netsudo whimpered, fingers sparking erratically with unseen heat. "B-big noises... okay. Pyras-level noises... maybe. For the n-no-screaming."
Shirou chambered a round in Emerald with a decisive, metallic click. "Just make sure the exit sign's lit, Blue."
Kuro adjusted his goggles, a cold focus settling over him. "Affirmative. Cryptographic protocols engaged. Diversionary parameters optimized."
Miryoku wove strands of solidified starlight around her hands, her violet eyes burning with determination. "We bring him home."
X remained silent, a pillar of absolute, unsettling stillness.
Merus nodded, a grim finality settling over him. They were as ready as they would ever be. He turned to X. "Open the path."
X raised a hand – or the suggestion of one, concealed within the shifting grey folds. No gesture. No flare of energy. The space before him simply... dissolved. Not torn, but erased, revealing not stars, but a vista of crushing, oppressive grandeur: monolithic obsidian spires clawing at a bruised, blood-red sky; structures of impossible scale and angles that defied natural law; the sickly glow of captive dwarf stars illuminating gargantuan, automated foundries spewing dark energy. The air that rushed in carried the acrid tang of industry, the ozone sting of potent energy fields, and the faint, psychic scream of contained, unimaginable power. Universe 3403. A little further off the core of Saganbo's dominion. The Null-Crypt awaited.
The sight was a physical blow. The sheer, malevolent scale. The palpable weight of despair and tyranny. Netsudo whimpered, shrinking back. Kagaya's grin faltered, replaced by a fierce, focused scowl, his grip tightening on his maul. Shirou's knuckles whitened on his rifle. Kuro's sensors flatlined. Miryoku's light flickered violently. Even X seemed to radiate a deeper, colder stillness.
Merus stepped forward, positioning himself at the precipice of the impossible portal, gazing into the dragon's maw. He felt the weight of seven lives, the fate of the Trascender, the fragile hope of countless universes, resting on this single, desperate throw of the cosmic dice.
His voice, when he spoke, cut through the suffocating dread like a divine clarion call, resonating with millennia of power and the desperate resolve of a guardian fighting for his last spark of light:
"OPERATION TRASCENDER RETRIEVAL... COMMENCE!"
X smiles.