Neo-Tokyo-3 glowed like a living constellation, its neon towers stretching beyond the clouds while floating trains traced luminous arcs across the skyline. Cherry blossoms drifted between spires, delicate and serene, masking the violent currents of power that surged unseen beneath the city. In a civilization where humanity had ascended to Type 100, the laws of reality bent to the ambitions of those who could see beyond dimensions. Among them, one shadow moved with precision incomprehensible to all: Kyuroto Mitsuyo.
Leaning over the edge of a gravity bridge, his piercing blue eyes scanned not just the city below, but the infinite frameworks of existence itself. At 25, the heir of the Mitsuyo Clan understood that true power was not displayed with armies or weapons—it was influence, foresight, and the mastery of reality itself.
A soft vibration on his wrist projected a holographic alert:
"The Serpent moves. Immediate intervention recommended."
Kyuroto's lips curved faintly. He had already traced the ripple across infinite dimensions, anticipating every faction's response across countless realities. The Serpent, a coalition spanning rogue operatives and multiversal schemers, had no idea a single mind could unravel their plans before they even began.
With a subtle gesture, drones scattered into the city—most invisible, some cloaked in light-bending fields. Simultaneously, subtle shifts occurred across parallel timelines: threads of probability adjusting to ensure the Serpent's moves funneled perfectly into his design. Every choice, every whisper, every glance moved under his control, and yet the world remained oblivious.
He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. Even using only 1% of his true 1,000,000% power, Kyuroto could slice through infinite dimensions, sever frameworks, and alter cosmology itself. Entire fictional universes, whether Light Novels, Webnovels, Anime, or Manga, bent to his subtle influence. He could have annihilated pantheons, rewritten timelines, or erased galaxies—but such acts were unnecessary. Control, subtle and precise, was far more potent than raw destruction.
Despite this incomprehensible omnipotence, Kyuroto remained human in core. The tragedies of losing his parents had honed his resolve, sharpened his mind, and tempered his soul. Power without empathy, he knew, was blind. And so he remained a whisper, a shadow, the architect of destinies unseen.
Below, the city pulsed with life. Executives argued in high-rise offices, Syndicate lieutenants exchanged coded glances in alleys, and cultivation-enhanced humans flitted through neon-lit streets. All of them were pieces on a board they could not perceive. Yet each micro-movement, each subtle reaction, was part of a tapestry woven across dimensions—a tapestry only Kyuroto could fully see.
The alert shimmered again. The Serpent had activated a destabilization protocol in a parallel timeline—a minor threat in isolation, but potentially catastrophic if left unchecked. Kyuroto's mind processed infinite outcomes simultaneously. One subtle adjustment, one precise nudge, and the threat evaporated—not destroyed, not battled, but neutralized across every possible reality.
A faint smile appeared on his lips. "So predictable," he murmured, the words echoing not in sound, but across the framework of existence itself. His outerversal presence was like a silent wind across multiverses: unseen, untouchable, yet omnipotent. No ally, no enemy, no god or cosmology could oppose him without his consent.
Yet he restrained himself. His full 1,000,000% true form remained dormant, coiled like a storm within. Why? Because subtlety was superior to spectacle. He did not need to annihilate universes to maintain control. Precision, strategy, and psychological mastery achieved far more than raw destruction ever could.
His gaze returned to Neo-Tokyo-3, where technology met cultivation, and tradition clashed with hyper-advanced futurism. Floating shrines glowed beside quantum reactors, samurai-tech warriors practiced in courtyards, and K-pop-like entertainers performed in holographic arenas. All of it, from culture to commerce, flowed along threads he could manipulate invisibly.
Kyuroto traced the fractal patterns of probability, analyzing micro-interactions with infinite foresight. Allies would falter, rivals would stumble, and even cosmic anomalies would bend to his will. Each shadow he moved, each whisper he spoke, shaped outcomes that rippled across dimensions, timelines, and realities. He was not merely a strategist—he was the framework behind existence itself, operating at scales beyond comprehension.
As the first light of dawn illuminated floating towers, Neo-Tokyo-3 remained unaware of the infinite shifts in its fate. Every alliance, every betrayal, every secret maneuver had already been accounted for, guided by the unseen hand of Kyuroto Mitsuyo.
Tonight, the Serpent would move—but only where he allowed.
Kyuroto adjusted his stance, eyes glinting with infinite foresight. One percent of his true power sufficed to manipulate civilizations, multiverses, and frameworks alike. And though the cosmos, manga, anime, and every conceivable reality bent under his influence, he remained a shadow, a whisper, the architect of destinies that no one could challenge.
The game had begun. Across Neo-Tokyo-3, across dimensions, across infinite timelines, a single truth remained: Kyuroto Mitsuyo was omnipotent, incomprehensible, and undefeated—and the universe itself was his silent playground.