The brilliance of the galaxy cloaked Sora in light. The blade on his brow gleamed under the radiant glow ahead, shimmering with the hope of a thousand stars.
Kamen Rider – Xross Saber.
This was Saber's final form—born of the Ten Holy Blades and the divine beast tome Brave Dragon.
His armor gleamed with hues of galactic blue. Within him surged not just the wisdom channeled from the Haouken Xross Saber, but also the unbounded creativity of the wielder. It was a form that drew forth miracles beyond comprehension.
The moment he transformed, Sora's mind filled with visions—countless warriors wielding swords, mastering technique after technique through relentless training.
These were the sword arts of those who had once wielded the Holy Blades. And now, having inherited the power of the Ten Holy Blades, Sora absorbed it all, imprinting the skills into his soul.
What's more, this flood of knowledge didn't overwhelm him. On the contrary—it flowed seamlessly into place, becoming second nature.
It was as if his body had already practiced these techniques.
He even instinctively understood how to wield all eleven blades connected to the Xross Saber.
It's like I was born knowing it, he thought, marveling at how in a single instant, he'd become a master of swordsmanship.
"So this… is the power of omniscience?" Sora murmured in awe.
It was overwhelming—like no training was ever needed again. Simply understanding was enough to know.
If this keeps up, the Erudition might come poking around.
Still, there was no time to marvel. His focus had to return to the Day of Destruction looming before him.
With his attention fully locked in, Sora could sense the violent currents of energy radiating from the cataclysm.
And amidst the chaos, the infinite possibilities of the galaxy began to unfold before him.
But some of those possibilities—fragile as they were—were burned away the moment they sparked.
The Day of Destruction was more than raw energy—it was laced with the divine power of the Destruction Aeon, Nanook.
That divine corruption was why the expansion was so relentless—why civilizations fell.
Yet, within Sora's mind, another path appeared—a solution offered by the blade's omniscient insight.
Then let's try it, he thought. Let's test the power to write a new story.
He gripped the Xross Saber tightly. Power surged through him.
A colossal version of the Ten Holy Blades formed in the void of space, forged from starlight itself.
Radiance danced along the sword's length, so bright it pierced even the deepest black of the cosmos.
Sora raised his blade high.
The giant saber mirrored him.
Sword techniques fused within him. Countless forms merged into one—the optimal solution.
There was no target to dodge. No enemy with tactics to counter.
Just energy. Pure and devastating.
So all he had to do… was cut.
Sora inhaled. Then held his breath.
His entire being surged, focused, ascended.
He and the blade became one. The galaxy's light gathered at the edge of his sword—and the colossal sword above.
Then, with a roar—
"[SLASH]!"
He swung down the sword that could carve a new fate.
And in that exact moment, the Day of Destruction entered its fourth Doctrinal Flashburst.
As it expanded, it collided head-on with the Xross Saber.
Sword of the Galaxy.
Sun of Destruction.
They clashed.
The universe seemed to fall silent.
A shockwave erupted from the point of impact—massive ripples of force rippled outward in every direction.
Magnetic fields across space twisted into chaos. Nearby asteroids crumbled into dust.
And then—a silver slash cleaved through the cosmos, slicing through even the golden flames of annihilation.
The massive blade tore directly into the churning orange core of the Day of Destruction.
Everywhere the silver edge passed, even the apocalyptic heat and energy were split—left behind with a rift.
The divine power of the Destruction Aeon, once thought invincible—was torn apart.
A gap had been carved into the end of all things.
What's more, it didn't seal itself immediately. It lingered.
As if even the Day of Destruction hadn't realized it had been wounded.
Sora had done the unthinkable—
He interrupted the Fourth Flashburst.
Seven Flashbursts.
Each one more expansive than the last. Each one extending the apocalypse across more light-years.
The fourth was critical—the tipping point between buildup and detonation.
The first three were mere prelude. They had swallowed every world and lifeform within several light-years. They were fuel.
The final four were the full release.
And Sora had cut that progression short.
The gleam of hope shimmered across the saber's blade—telling the galaxy: even in the darkest hour, light will not die.
Sora stood atop the ship, its hull nearly liquefied beneath him, staring at the rupture he had made.
"If this works…" he muttered, "then it's time to go all in!"
With the fourth Flashburst disrupted—this was the moment to strike back.
He slid the sword's guard to the top.
"[Blade King Fatal Reading Finish]!"
"[Blazing Fire]"
"[Yellow Thunder]"
"[Flowing Water]"
"[Quaking Earth]"
"[Verdant Wind]"
"[Resonant Sound]"
"[Boundary Time]"
"[Moonless Shadow]"
"[Purest Light]"
"[Smoldering Signal]"
"[Nameless Sword]!"
The names of all eleven elements were spoken aloud, their power pouring into the Xross Saber, rainbow light crackling down its edge.
Wait. Eleven?
Wasn't it the Ten Holy Blades?
...Best not to think too hard about it.
Sora charged forward.
"[Blade King Xross Star Intense Slash!]"
Zzzzzzzzzt—!
The eleven swords manifested behind him, glowing and resonant.
They moved with him—swinging together as one into the expanding apocalypse.
---
On the trade planet, time stood still.
All eyes were locked on the sky.
On the Day of Destruction.
On the impossibility unfolding before them.
In that ever-growing sun of death—cracks were forming.
Small, almost imperceptible.
At first they thought it was a visual glitch.
But after blinking, wiping their eyes—they realized the tears in the firestorm were real.
"The Day of Destruction… it's cracking?"
"Is that even possible?"
"I… am I dreaming?"
People murmured, stunned. It didn't feel real.
How could it be?
The Day of Destruction was like a supernova—a pure energy event that marked the death of stars and civilizations alike.
There were energy-cutting technologies in the universe.
Every member of the Genius Society—those under the watchful eye of Nous—could list hundreds of energy manipulation methods.
Some could even deconstruct energy down to subparticles, rendering them inert.
But this… this wasn't ordinary energy.
This was Nanook's gift.
A phenomenon woven with the Aeon's will. Not a direct attack, but it still carried the Destruction Aeon's signature.
That was why everyone had despaired.
Because if an Aeon moved—even slightly—there was nothing they could do.
In this galaxy, Aeons were absolute.
They were power incarnate.
And mortals? Mortals could only kneel.
Had it been Yaoshi, perhaps there might have been hope. That Aeon gifted abundantly, even to mortals.
But this was Nanook.
An Aeon who sought only to burn and obliterate all things.
There would be no blessings. No miracles. No mercy.
Nanook would not hear the prayers of mortals.
Nanook would not care about their resistance.
Nanook would not acknowledge their will.
Everything the Aeon did was for one purpose: to destroy all stars, all planets, all life.
That purpose was unstoppable. That will, absolute.
Anything that touched Nanook's power was either annihilated—or corrupted.
And yet now—
Someone had cut through it.
Someone had slashed open the end of the universe.
No one wanted to believe it.
Yet the rupture remained.
It hadn't healed. It was still there on their screens.
"…Could it be an Emanator of an Aeon?" someone whispered.
It was a logical theory.
Only power born of an Aeon could clash with another.
Only an Aeon's chosen could perform such a feat.
If a true Aeon had intervened, the Day of Destruction would've been erased outright.
So—this must be the work of an Emanator.
"It makes sense," someone else murmured. "A Messenger of the Hunt, maybe?"
That drew nods.
Lan, the Aeon of the Hunt—his Path was narrow, but he did share power with mortals.
He was also one of the few Aeons easily invoked.
The Xianzhou Alliance, for instance, always had ways to reach out to the Hunt.
So it all fit.
It had to be an Emanator of the Hunt.
Excited, relieved, some even considered converting on the spot.
But just as the room buzzed with new hope—
A transmission alert blared.
[Incoming external comms request. Accept?]
...An external call?
At a time like this?
They connected it.
And what they heard left them speechless.
[This is the Galaxy Ranger Fleet. We currently have 3,624 ships. We are preparing to use full force to pull your planet away. Please instruct all civilians to seek shelter—seismic shocks will occur.]
The Galaxy Rangers—those wild, scattered vigilantes—had rallied.
Because they believed.
They believed in the kindness and justice of the universe.
And they would not abandon an entire planet.