The silence in the shattered pocket dimension was profound, broken only by Kuro's ragged breathing and the sizzle of cooling rock beneath Daganu's unnervingly still form. The electric blue storm was gone, the terrifying speed silenced. Only stark white hair pooled against dark stone, a stark monument to a dream extinguished.
"We... finally won!!" Kuro's voice rasped, a raw scrape against the oppressive quiet. The words felt alien, almost blasphemous in the face of the carnage. Joy tried to ignite, fueled by sheer disbelief, but it was immediately drowned by the crushing reality of their state. He tried to stand, to survey their hard-won battlefield, but his legs buckled instantly. Agony lanced through his shattered ribs, his vision swimming. He slumped back against a jagged obsidian spire, breathing hard. *Won? We're barely breathing.* He looked at Merus, still unconscious, a broken sculpture of cerulean ichor and burns, one leg a cauterized ruin. Netsudo lay nearby, his lava form extinguished, his right arm a mangled mess, breathing shallow and wet. And Daganu... Hayate... just empty.
*We can't move. Not yet.* The thought was grimly pragmatic. Forcing a retreat now would kill Netsudo for sure, and Merus might not survive the dimensional transition in this state. They needed minutes, maybe an hour, for Merus's divine regeneration, slowed to a crawl but still present, to knit the most critical wounds enough for movement. And Netsudo needed time for his Pyrasian vitality to stabilize his core. Kuro leaned his head back against the cool stone, closing his eyes, the image of Daganu's lightning eyes and Hayate's final collapse warring in his mind. The victory tasted like ash and blood.
Far away, in the heart of Universe 3523, the throne room of weeping neutron stars vibrated with a different kind of silence. Saganbo, lounging amidst cosmic anguish, stiffened. The psychic thread connecting him to Daganu – a faint, constant hum of controlled hyper-velocity – snapped. Vanished. Not diminished. Extinguished.
Raimei, leaning against a pillar radiating violet energy nearby, felt it too. His usual smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of genuine unease that tightened his jaw. He watched Saganbo's knuckles whiten on the armrest of his star-metal throne.
"What... was that?" Saganbo murmured, his voice dangerously low, a rumble preceding an earthquake. He wasn't asking Raimei. He was addressing the void, the insult. "Didn't you swear to scour that weakness... that Hayate... from your core?" The temperature in the throne room plummeted. Supernovae glints in the walls seemed to dim. "Pathetic." The word dripped with venomous contempt. "You just lost... to a crippled pseudo-god, a broken scientist, and a volcanic whelp. Daganu..." Saganbo's voice rose, cracking with fury, "You are a disappointment!" A wave of invisible force pulsed outwards, cracking the obsidian floor near the throne. Raimei flinched, the violet energy around him flickering defensively.
Shirou groaned, spitting out dust and something metallic-tasting. Consciousness returned like a sledgehammer blow. Pain. Everywhere. His armor was cracked, scorched, fused in places to his skin beneath. He remembered the gilded theater dissolving into screaming chaos, Raimei's mocking laughter, Kagaya's roar cut short, Miryoku's light snuffed out... and the crushing oblivion as the chamber collapsed.
*Playing dead... worked. Barely.* He'd clamped down on his energy signature, becoming less than a shadow, less than a corpse, while Raimei's reality-warping power scoured the ruins for survivors. He'd felt the Monarch's gaze pass over him like cold fog, dismissing him as inert debris. Then, amidst the settling dust and psychic aftershocks, he'd crawled. Found Kagaya first, the giant buried under tonnes of ornate rubble, his tribal markings pulsing faintly with stubborn emerald light as his body subconsciously channeled spiritual energy to seal massive internal bleeding and shattered bones. Then Miryoku, half-crushed beneath a fallen column, her luminous skin dull, her breathing so shallow it was almost imperceptible. He'd dragged them both, inch by agonizing inch, into a pocket of relative stability formed by the wrecked stage machinery, concealing their faint energy signatures with the last dregs of his own reserves and the ambient discordant static.
He slumped beside them now, leaning against a warped gold-plated beam. Kagaya's breathing was ragged but stronger, the emerald glow on his skin a little brighter as his immense vitality fought the damage. Miryoku remained worryingly still, a faint turquoise pulse flickering weakly at her core. Shirou checked his rifle. Barrel warped. Power core cracked. Useless. He pulled a dented flask of high-grade coolant from his vest, wincing as he poured some over his worst burns.
*Damn it... barely made it.* He looked at his unconscious companions, then towards the sealed doorway leading deeper into the Labyrinth. *Guys like Raimei... Kokuto... Saganbo...* The memory of Raimei's effortless negation, the feeling of his own existence being edited out of reality, sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with his injuries. *They're playing a different game. One I can't win. Out of everyone's league...*
The mercenary calculus screamed: Cut losses. Retrieve what salvage you can. Live to fight another day. The 100 Space Dust felt like fool's gold now. He closed his eyes, the image of Miryoku's terrified scream on the Stellar Stream juxtaposed with her fierce light-whips against the Null-Entity. *Her song... This Muscle Head's roar... even that annoying blue god...* Shirou sighed, a sound lost in the ruins. *Backing down... feels worse than dying broke.*
Nearly ninety minutes crawled by in the shattered crucible where Daganu fell. Kuro watched, exhausted but vigilant, as Merus stirred. A low groan escaped the God's lips. His cerulean eyes flickered open, clouded with pain and disorientation. They focused slowly on Kuro.
"What... happened?" Merus's voice was a dry whisper.
Kuro managed a weak, blood-streaked smile. "We... we defeated him, Lord Merus. Daganu. He's... done."
A flicker of profound relief crossed Merus's ravaged face. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Great..." But it faded instantly, replaced by the crushing weight of their situation. He tried to push himself up, gasping as agony lanced through his torso and phantom limb. His divine aura, faint but present, flared weakly as he focused on internal repair, knitting shattered ribs, sealing ruptured energy channels. The process was agonizingly slow, visible only as a faint cerulean shimmer beneath his ruined skin.
Kuro nodded, mirroring Merus's grim focus. "We've bought time, but not enough. Netsudo's stabilizing, but he's out cold. We need to move. Saganbo won't wait. Every moment Shinji is sealed..." He didn't finish the thought. The image of Saganbo doing something to the Trascender was nightmare fuel.
Merus gritted his teeth, forcing himself into a sitting position against the wall. "Agreed. We leave Netsudo here. It's defensible enough... for now. Dragging him further would kill him." He looked towards the inert Pyrasian, a pang of guilt mixing with resolve. "We go. To the next room."
The transition through the Labyrinth's warped corridors was a gauntlet of pain. Kuro leaned heavily on Merus, whose divine stamina, though depleted, provided crucial support. The air in Chamber 4 was different – colder, sterile, like a morgue. Empty. Except for the figure standing in the center.
He was young, perhaps Shinji's age, clad in sleek, dark combat gear that bore Saganbo's insignia. His spiritual energy was present, but shallow, brittle – mortal. He turned as they entered, his eyes wide with shock and dawning horror. "For real?" His voice trembled. "Does that mean... you two defeated Sir Daganu?"
Merus straightened, drawing on reserves of divine authority despite his wounds. "Yeah," he stated, his voice flat, cerulean eyes assessing the young man. "We did. Another mortal? I've already dispatched three of your comrades." The memory of Sasaki, Shinaru, Ubiginu – pawns in Saganbo's game – flashed bitterly.
Kuro, analyzing the youth's bio-signs and micro-expressions through his damaged visor, felt a pang of unease. "Really... that's amazing, Lord Merus," he muttered, genuine respect warring with suspicion. "And yet you kept fighting." He focused on the mortal.
"Name's Shinaru," Shinaru's face curdled into anger. "I see! So you finished the entirety of the 1st Way! You killed them all!" He took a step forward, fists clenching, but the movement was stiff, fear warring with bravado. "I... I definitely won't forgive you for this!"
Kuro barked a harsh, pained laugh. "Forgive us? If I were in your position, looking at the wreckage that just took down a Monarch, I'd be running for the nearest dimensional rift or begging for my life! Confidence is stupidity right now."
"Still," Shinaru insisted, pointing a shaking finger at their bloodied forms, "you're covered in wounds! Barely standing!"
"And still capable of reducing you to subatomic particles before you blink," Kuro retorted coldly. "Don't you feel the energy radiating off him?" He gestured to Merus, whose aura, though weak, still carried the ancient weight of Creation. "This is a 2v1 you can't win. Don't be an idiot."
Shinaru paled, the anger draining away, replaced by raw panic. He swallowed hard. "Then... then how about joining you?" The words tumbled out, desperate. "Am I allowed to? Please!"
Merus's expression hardened with disgust. "That's not loyalty. That's opportunism. The move of a coward, switching sides only when the tide turns against you, even though we're hardly the victors yet. You're just bargaining for your life."
Kuro's analytical gaze scanned Shinaru intensely. "How do we verify you're not a spy? Saganbo doesn't seem the trusting type with mortals."
"I swear!" Shinaru pleaded, hands outstretched, eyes wide with terrified sincerity. "I'm joining you! Please, don't worry!"
Kuro exchanged a glance with Merus. His sensors detected no deception in the physiological responses – elevated heart rate, pupil dilation, genuine terror. No hidden comms signals. "Lord Merus... I read no immediate deception. Physiological markers indicate genuine desperation and intent."
Merus sighed, the sound weary. "Oh. If you say so..." He took a hesitant step towards Shinaru, extending a bloodstained hand. "Very well. Welcome, then. What's your–"
Merus's divine senses screamed a micro-second before the physical trigger. He moved, not with speed, but with a god's instinctive spatial displacement, vanishing from his position just as Shinaru's eyes widened in pure, uncomprehending horror.
KRA-BOOOOOM!
Shinaru exploded. A pinpoint singularity of absolute negation bloomed in his chest, consuming him in a silent, horrific instant in a massive explosion. No fire, no sound, just a violent implosion of flesh, bone, and spirit into nothingness, leaving only a faint smear of vaporized matter and a chilling vacuum in the air. The shockwave, pure concussive force, slammed into Merus and Kuro, throwing them back despite Merus's defensive flare.
Kuro hit the ground hard, coughing, his visor cracked, showing wide, shocked eyes. "He... he wasn't expecting that! His terror... it was real!"
Merus staggered, his face a mask of divine fury and profound sorrow. He stared at the empty space where Shinaru stood. "A ploy... but not his ploy." The realization dawned, cold and brutal. "Saganbo... you vile abomination! Planting self-destruct mechanisms in your own pawns!" The air crackled with Merus's suppressed rage. "Using mortals... disposable tools... I WILL NOT FORGIVE THIS!" His voice echoed in the sterile chamber, a god's vow etched in pain.
Kuro pushed himself up, grimacing. "Psychic trigger. Implanted bomb keyed to betrayal ideation or external confirmation. Brutally efficient." He wiped blood from his lip. "So... we go to the next room now?"
Merus took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the rage down, focusing on the mission. "Yeah. Let's finish this."
Exiting Chamber 4 felt like escaping a tomb. They moved slower now, the encounter with Shinaru's horrific end weighing heavily. As they navigated a corridor shimmering with unstable dimensional energies, two figures stumbled towards them.
"THERE YOU ARE GUYS!" Kagaya's booming voice, though strained, was a welcome shockwave. He was a mess – his tribal armor cracked, deep gashes crisscrossing his massive frame sealed with glowing emerald energy, one arm held awkwardly. But his spirit burned bright. "I'M GLAD YOU'RE ALRIGHT! WELL, MOSTLY ALRIGHT!"
Beside him, limping heavily, leaning on a salvaged piece of gilded railing like a crutch, was Shirou. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, his tactical vest torn and scorched. He gave a curt, pained nod. "Took you long enough. Place is a maze."
Merus managed a weary smile. "Yeah, you two seem... functional. Considering." His eyes scanned them. "Where's Miryoku?"
"We kept her safe," Shirou rasped, jerking a thumb back down the corridor. "In a relatively stable pocket back there. Still out. Took a nasty hit before the ceiling came down."
Kuro's eyes widened slightly behind his cracked visor. "Oh. So that means... you won?" He looked between Kagaya and Shirou, incredulous despite his own feat. "I actually... won two successive battles!" The absurdity struck him, and a faint, pained smirk touched his lips.
Shirou scoffed, wincing. "What? Two Monarchs? Pull the other one, lab coat."
"Actually," Kuro corrected, the smirk fading, "one Monarch and one Mortal." He gestured vaguely back towards Chamber 4. "The mortal... didn't end well."
Shirou's visible eye narrowed. "Huh. Bet that Monarch was weak sauce then. Barely a warm-up." The bravado was forced, brittle.
Kuro's expression flattened. "Huh? What's wrong with you...?"
"I BET HE'S ANGRY BECAUSE OF OUR LOSS!" Kagaya interjected loudly, slamming a fist against his chest plate, then wincing. "WE GOT OUR ASSES KICKED BY THAT RAIMEI BASTARD!"
Merus's head snapped up. "You lost?! To Raimei?!" Dread coiled in his gut. That was one Monarch Raimei heard of alongside Kokuto. Those two were the only two Monarchs Merus has ever heard off without having to meet them in person. If Raimei was still active...
Shirou looked away, embarrassment warring with residual terror. "Y-yeah... The... Monarch. Trickster type. Too strong. Too damn fast in a different way." He wouldn't meet their eyes. "Way out of my league."
Kuro couldn't suppress a dry, humorless chuckle this time. "Join the club."
"HOW DID YOU SURVIVE?" Merus pressed, divine senses subtly probing Shirou.
Shirou tapped his head with a grimy finger. "Luck. Playing deader than dead. And maybe... he got bored." He shrugged, the movement stiff. "Point is, we're here now."
Kagaya shifted impatiently, the emerald light on his wounds pulsing. "WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR SHIT CHAT! THAT FINAL DOOR ISN'T GONNA KICK ITSELF OPEN! LET'S GO!"
Merus exchanged a look with Kuro. The scientist gave a tired nod. "Kagaya's right. Time's wasting. Let's move."
The door to the fifth chamber wasn't just sealed; it felt like a slab of compressed dread. The air grew colder, sharper, carrying the faint, ozone tang of honed malice. Merus took a deep breath, drawing on the last dregs of his divine power, a faint cerulean aura flickering around him like a dying star. Kuro readied his damaged tech-glove, energy fizzing uncertainly. Shirou hefted his makeshift crutch like a club, his good eye narrowed and he forced the other barely open. Kagaya cracked his knuckles, emerald energy flaring defiantly around his fists.
Merus pushed the door open.
The chamber beyond was vast, shrouded in deep twilight. No elaborate traps, no monstrous guardians. Only a single figure stood in the center, silhouetted against a faint, sourceless light. He wasn't radiating power; he was condensing it. The air around him hummed with suppressed violence and mad skill. As the door slid shut behind them with a heavy clang, the figure turned.
Kokuto.
His short, stark white hair seemed sharper in the gloom. His thin black jacket was immaculate. The crimson scarf hung unnaturally still, as always. But his eyes... His eyes were not the cold, clinical voids they remembered. They burned with a contained, icy fury, fixed unblinkingly on Merus. His hand rested on the worn hilt of his sword, knuckles white.
"We finally meet again," Kokuto's voice cut through the silence, colder than the void between galaxies, sharper than his blade. "However..." He drew his sword slowly, the sound a chilling shink that echoed like a death knell. Dark energy, tinged with the entropy of the void, wreathed the blade. "This time, I won't run. I won't let you chase me. This time..." He leveled the Void-Shear blade at Merus, the point unwavering. "I will definitely cut you apart. Piece by piece. God of Creation. Your final boss is right in front of you"
Merus met his gaze, the weariness burning away in the face of this ancient, lethal hatred. He shifted into a defensive stance, cerulean energy gathering in his palms. "Looking forward to it, Swordwrath Monarch. Third time's the charm no?" His voice held no bravado, only grim acceptance of the inevitable clash.
Kuro, his heart pounding against his cracked ribs, whispered urgently, "Lord Merus... stick to the plan. Distract. I'll find the opening." His mind raced, scanning the chamber, analyzing Kokuto's stance, the energy signature of the blade, looking for any weakness, any flaw in the perfect killing intent before them.
Far away, in the heart of Saganbo's sanctum, suspended in a field of crackling, dark energy, Shinji Kazuhiko drifted. His body was whole, held in stasis. His mind... was elsewhere.
Darkness. Fractured light. The obsidian cave with its twelve cosmic patterns pulsed faintly. The seven voids of pure negation seemed deeper, hungrier. The twelve distant supernovae flickered erratically. The two blurred figures argued more vehemently, their silent shouts vibrating through the dreamscape. Agony, deep and existential, was a constant thrum. And through it all, a single word, whispered not by a voice, but by the fabric of the void itself, insistent, demanding, cutting through the chaos:
Transcend...
The final chamber awaited. Kokuto's blade thirsted. Shinji's dream deepened. The shadow of Saganbo loomed. The desperate gambit reached its crescendo.