Kanetaro did not arrive in the Energy Realm.
He overlapped with it.
For a fleeting moment, his existence stretched thin, pulled like silk across a loom too vast to comprehend. The Sky God felt himself unravel into pressure, vibration, and resonance—his bones humming, his blood singing in tones no human throat could utter. The world he had known—cloud, wind, heaven itself—peeled away like old bark from a tree.
Then his feet touched something that was not ground, yet held him.
Kanetaro staggered forward, one hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his Storm-Bringer Katana. The air—if it could be called that—was dense, shimmering, layered in translucent planes of violet and pale indigo. Every breath tasted sharp, like lightning caught between the teeth.
He straightened slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Hmph," he muttered. "So this is the realm beyond the sky. No birds. No wind. No comforting clouds." He glanced around, unimpressed. "Heaven was loud, but at least it had manners."
Ahead of him stood a gate.
It dwarfed anything Kanetaro had ever seen—not merely in size, but in presence. A vast structure of translucent light-purple energy, stretching infinitely upward and downward, its edges blurring into the very fabric of existence. Symbols crawled across its surface like living scripture, forming and dissolving faster than thought.
The gate did not threaten.
It judged.
Kanetaro felt it probing him—not his strength, not his divinity, but the rhythm of his soul. His sixth sense screamed, not in warning, but in reverence.
He exhaled slowly.
"Well," he said, resting his hand on his sword. "When a peasant knocks on a lord's gate without invitation, he is either desperate… or already dead."
He took a step forward.
The realm answered.
The air ruptured with a metallic thunderclap, and two figures dropped into existence between Kanetaro and the gate, landing with enough force to fracture the layered light beneath them.
Kanetaro stopped instantly.
The first was massive—easily twice his width—standing like a fortress given flesh. A humanoid bull, its skin dark and scarred, muscles bound tight beneath worn battle cloth. It wore a simple mask etched with an unfamiliar symbol, its eyes hidden behind hollow slits. Where one arm should have been extended a long katana, its blade blackened and chipped from countless battles. The other arm ended in a brutal axe, its head scarred and heavy, thick chains coiled around the haft and disappearing into the bull's forearm. One of its legs was mechanical, jointed metal humming softly as it shifted its weight.
Across its chest burned a scar—round, radiant, and unmistakable.
A sun.
The second figure did not announce itself with weight.
It simply was.
A humanoid puma—sleek, lean, silent. Its fur was pale ash streaked with dark patterns that seemed to move when not directly observed. It wore the same mask as the bull, but where the bull radiated overwhelming presence, this one absorbed it. One leg was mechanical, elegant and jointed, moving with eerie smoothness. A segmented metal tail coiled behind it, twitching softly. From both forearms extended retractable claws, long and wicked, gleaming faintly with energy.
The puma did not breathe loudly.
It did not shift.
It only watched.
Kanetaro felt his skin crawl.
The bull spoke first, its voice deep and resonant, echoing through the layered realm.
"Positive resonance detected."
The puma's voice followed—low, smooth, barely louder than a whisper.
"Negative resonance confirmed."
Kanetaro blinked. "Ah. So you two divide guests by temperament. A wise custom." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Though greeting a traveler with steel is a touch discourteous, no?"
Neither moved.
The bull took a step forward. The ground shuddered.
"Bearer of balance," it rumbled. "Thou art contradiction."
The puma's claws slid out with a soft shrrk.
"Contradictions are unstable," it said. "Unstable things are erased."
Kanetaro rolled his shoulders, electricity crackling faintly along his armor. "Straight to execution, then. No tea. No questions. You guardians of this realm are truly efficient."
He drew his katana.
Lightning whispered along the blade.
"If I am to be struck down," Kanetaro said calmly, lowering his stance, "pray do it swiftly. I have traveled far, and my legs grow weary."
The bull roared.
It charged like a falling mountain, chains screaming as the axe arm spun outward. Kanetaro barely leapt aside as the axe slammed into the ground, the impact detonating in a shockwave that tore through the layered terrain. He twisted midair, landing hard and skidding back.
"So," Kanetaro muttered, sliding to a stop. "Strength like a war god. Very well."
He vanished.
The Sky-Wraith Armor shimmered, and Kanetaro glitched—his form breaking into streaks of white and black light—reappearing behind the bull in a crack of thunder. He swung his katana in a clean arc toward the creature's back.
Steel met steel.
The bull had turned impossibly fast, katana intercepting Kanetaro's strike with enough force to send sparks screaming into the air. The impact rang like a temple bell struck by lightning.
Kanetaro's eyes widened. "Ho?"
The puma moved.
It did not rush. It did not leap.
It appeared at Kanetaro's flank, claws flashing. Kanetaro twisted, the claws grazing his armor, carving deep grooves that smoked with corrupted energy. He hissed, flipping backward as the puma's tail lashed out, narrowly missing his throat.
"Silent as a grave at midnight," Kanetaro breathed. "You honor your craft."
The bull yanked its axe free, chains whipping outward. The links wrapped around Kanetaro's leg mid-air and slammed him down, hurling him across the realm. He crashed through several layers of glowing terrain before skidding to a stop, smoke curling from his armor.
Kanetaro coughed once and laughed softly.
"Well struck," he said, pushing himself up. "If my master had seen that, he would have called it… excessive."
The bull advanced again. The puma circled.
Positive energy surged from Kanetaro's right side—light, sky, storm. From his left, something colder pulsed—shadow, loss, the weight of lives unsaved. The two guardians paused.
The bull tilted its head.
"The light within thee burns fiercely."
The puma's claws trembled.
"The darkness within thee is deeper still."
Kanetaro tightened his grip.
"Then you see me clearly," he said. "I am the sky that carries both sun and night. If that offends this realm… then strike true."
They did.
The fight became chaos.
The bull's attacks shattered space itself—each swing of its axe dragging chains that tore through the layered realm like ripping silk. Kanetaro danced between them, teleporting in short bursts, countering with precise, lightning-fast strikes. Each clash rang with enough force to ripple the Energy Realm.
The puma was everywhere and nowhere—claws flashing from blind angles, tail striking like a serpent, its movements impossible to predict. Kanetaro took hit after hit, armor cracking, lightning sputtering.
His breath grew ragged.
"By the Eight Virtues," he gasped, parrying a claw strike inches from his face. "Do you two ever tire?"
The bull answered by slamming its katana downward. Kanetaro blocked—his knees buckled, the ground beneath him fracturing under the pressure.
The puma struck simultaneously.
Kanetaro screamed—not in pain, but effort—as he released a burst of sky energy, blasting both guardians back in a violent shockwave. He fell to one knee, sword planted in the ground, chest heaving.
His vision blurred.
"So," he said hoarsely, forcing a grin. "This is the gatekeeper's courtesy."
The bull straightened, steam rising from its body.
The puma crouched, claws poised.
All three stood motionless.
Energy drained from the realm, from their bodies, from the very air itself. Lightning flickered weakly along Kanetaro's blade before fading.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
The gate behind them pulsed once… and waited.