Akiba Red tumbled through the rift and hit solid ground with a heavy crash. Dust and dirt clung to his suit as he rolled to a stop, groaning.
When he lifted his head, his visor reflected devastation.
A battlefield stretched endlessly before him. Charred earth, shattered weapons, broken banners. Corpses of armored soldiers lay across the wasteland, their armor stained with blood and ash. The wind carried the stench of smoke and death.
Red staggered to his feet, fists trembling.
"This… isn't Akihabara… this isn't even parody anymore…"
His chest tightened. Normally, he'd scream about tokusatsu tropes, rally his team with passionate speeches, or make jokes about "final boss stages." But here, there was no audience. No laugh track. No safety net.
Only war.
---
The Fallen Warrior
Red moved cautiously, searching for survivors. He nearly tripped over a fallen knight—armor cracked, breathing shallow. Blood seeped through the man's chest plate.
Red knelt beside him. "Hey! Stay with me! You're gonna be okay!"
The knight coughed, gripping Red's arm with surprising strength. His eyes were dim, but resolute.
"Not… much time…"
"Don't say that! Heroes always save people! That's how it works—"
The knight shook his head weakly. "Then… take it. Carry on… our fight…"
He pressed something into Red's hand—a small, crimson crystal pulsing faintly with energy.
"Protect… the Flame…"
His hand fell limp. The light in his eyes faded.
Red froze, staring at the lifeless body. His visor reflected the dead man's face.
For the first time, his usual delusions about heroism felt hollow.
But the crystal in his palm pulsed warmly, like a heartbeat.
---
The Enemy Approaches
A guttural roar echoed across the battlefield. Red spun around just as a massive figure rose from the smoke.
It wasn't human—an armored beast, towering and monstrous, its body forged of steel and fire. Chains rattled around its limbs, and its eyes glowed like molten lava.
It spotted Red and snarled, dragging a massive cleaver through the dirt.
Red's instincts screamed at him to run. He was just an "unofficial" hero, a delusional otaku who played at being a sentai. He wasn't supposed to be here.
But his fists clenched around the crystal. He looked down at the dead knight, then back at the monster.
"No… I am a hero. Even if I'm unofficial, even if I'm a joke back home… here, I can't back down."
He raised his arms. "UNOFFICIAL SENTAI—AKIBA RED!"
---
The First Clash
The monster charged, its cleaver swinging. Red blocked with his arms, sparks exploding as the blade slammed into him. He was thrown back, crashing into the dirt, but forced himself up again.
"Come on then!" he roared, charging forward.
Every punch he threw was sloppy but full of heart. He kicked, he grappled, he screamed his usual burning cries of justice. But against the monster's overwhelming power, he was losing. His armor cracked, sparks flying with every hit.
The cleaver slashed across his chest, sending him sprawling. His visor flickered, his suit nearly failing.
The monster loomed over him, raising its blade for the final strike.
---
The Power of the Flame
The crimson crystal in his hand pulsed violently, glowing brighter. It seemed to merge with his suit, embedding itself into his chest.
Red's body ignited with flame. His armor restructured, sharper and more knight-like, with crimson flames burning along the edges. His visor blazed, resembling a roaring dragon.
Akiba Red Flame Knight Form.
He stood tall, energy surging through him. The monster hesitated, sensing the change.
Red clenched his fists, his voice low but burning.
"You wanted a real hero? Then you got one."
He dashed forward, faster than before, his movements precise. Every punch landed with explosive bursts of flame, every kick carving fiery trails through the air.
The monster swung its cleaver, but Red blocked it, shoving it back with sheer strength. He leapt into the air, flames spiraling around his body.
"AKIBA BURNING CRASH!"
He slammed his fiery fist into the monster's chest. The crystal embedded in its armor shattered, and the beast erupted in flames before collapsing in a heap of molten slag.
---
The Weight of Reality
Red stood among the ashes, chest heaving. His new form flickered, then stabilized. The battlefield was silent again, save for the crackle of fire.
He looked down at his fists, trembling. The power felt real—too real.
There was no cheering crowd. No teammates to pat him on the back. Only the corpses of the fallen, the ashes of war, and the lingering words of the dying knight.
"Protect the Flame…"
Red clenched his fist. "…Then I'll carry it. I'll fight, even if this world doesn't know my name. Even if I'm unofficial… I'll be their hero."
He turned toward the horizon, where smoke still rose from distant battles. His path was set.
---
To be continued…