If someone on the street wore a clown mask, people would likely smile knowingly, asking if they were part of the Masked Fools or a circus act.
But if you saw a clown mask drifting in space, that was something else entirely.
Because it likely meant an Aeon had taken notice of you.
And not just any Aeon.
This was the infamous one — the Aeon of Elation: Aha.
The name alone sounded absurd, laughable even. But that might have been the point.
Underestimating them because of that name? That meant you'd already fallen into their game.
True, Aha didn't leave behind universe-shaking miracles like Hunt or Preservation.
But make no mistake — Aha might not be the strongest, but they were certainly the most notorious.
There was simply no helping it. The number of chaotic "gifts" they'd left across the galaxy was too long to list — enough to fill entire tomes.
Even the fact that they didn't spare themselves was testament enough to their infamy.
Though "not sparing themselves" didn't mean Aha pranked themself — it referred to their faction.
Aha's followers were a unique breed. Beyond the self-declared Masked Fools who reveled in mischief, Aha had also empowered those who rejected them — the Mourning Actors — aiding them in crossing the stars to preach their rejection of joy.
Absurd, right? A deity who grants power to their critics and helps spread dissent?
Perhaps Aha saw something in it. Perhaps... not even they knew why.
And now, this same Aeon watched silently from the shadows of the galaxy.
Perhaps they witnessed the birth of the Day of Destruction.
Perhaps they saw the meteor that rallied the Rangers.
Perhaps they watched a planet take its final steps toward doom.
None of it would be unusual — this was, after all, what Aha did.
Whether Aha had noticed them, Fuli couldn't say — nor did they care to.
They weren't here to intervene. Just to observe. To record.
To fulfill their duty.
They collected every memory from the surrounding galaxy, trying to make sense of the dazzling lights before them.
And thus, memories of the galaxy began to reverse in Aha's mind, rewinding from the present moment.
Everything — every cause, every consequence — became known to them.
The radiance of the Day of Destruction gradually shrank, condensing into a scorched, charred planet.
For a moment, life flickered again — then silence. Desolation returned.
Further back: greenery crept across its surface, ruins reshaped into civilization, firelights flickered into being.
Time continued to rewind — faster and faster.
A black hole emerged, ejecting a sphere compressed by its gravitational tides.
It resembled a mangled corpse, its surface etched with endless scars.
There should have been no further change. The planet was long dead.
And yet, Aha made no effort to investigate further. They had not come to pry into origins — only to witness.
The memory stream rewound further until it arrived at an ancient battlefield.
In one corner of the long-ended war, Aha saw a familiar mask.
Thousands of years ago, during the final clash, the Aeon of Elation had shown up — chasing amusement.
Just as Fuli noticed the mask, a gaze from afar shifted toward them.
It lingered, then turned away.
"Fuli's a mute, Fuli's a block of wood — doesn't even move. Boring, boring."
"Wanted to see what the madman would do in this mess, but the madman ran away! Aha has no face left, no face at all!"
"But it's fine, it's fine. There's something better... something even more fun..."
Suddenly, Aha fell silent.
Even Fuli flinched.
The memory stream — that endless vision of the past — vanished.
Everything that had happened within the light of the Day of Destruction was now gone.
All memories, all records, every scrap of causality — wiped clean.
The affected region was tiny — less than two light-years across — but to Fuli, it was as if the entire space had slipped beyond observation.
Right at the end, though, a glimpse — a blade gleaming with the silver-blue brilliance of the galaxy.
What happened?
What appeared?
Fuli didn't know — nor did they intend to find out.
Their purpose was to observe, not intervene, not correct. Only to record the results.
And so, they waited.
They watched.
Only the laughter beside them echoed across the galaxy now:
"Hahahahahahahahaha!!"
"Aha has no face! No face at all! Aha can't do a thing! All Aha can do is watch — watch and see what kind of fun comes out of this mess!"
"Hahahaha — too funny! Far too funny!"
---
The power of Wonder Almighty swirled around the Haouken Xross Saber — a force of omniscience and narrative.
But it wasn't just all-knowing, all-powerful energy.
It was the power to forge new stories.
Through this power, Hoshigaki Sora could restore the ruined planet.
He planted the Haouken before him and closed his eyes.
To continue a story, you first had to know what came before.
The story of Planet Camille — now reduced to ashes.
Normally, this would be impossible.
Nanook's arrival hadn't just destroyed life — it had erased existence itself.
Nothing should remain. No trace, no record.
But Sora... was different.
So then... remember. What happened here, on this world?
Sora dove inward, surfing through his own memories.
Images flashed through his mind — the Rangers' meteor trail... the ever-expanding Day of Destruction... the banquet guards turning into hollow soldiers...
Forward, further forward...
Until the memory landed — the moment he first obtained the power of Kamen Rider W.
That was when he gained access to the Planetary Library.
That was when he first connected to Camille's memory.
Zulo had only just awakened.
The planetary records were still intact then.
It was from that moment Sora learned the truth of the world — and chose this path.
"Then let the omniscient power begin its analysis!"
He invoked the Haouken.
"[Haou Hissatsu Dokuha]!"
Galactic light coursed along the blade, then surged into Sora's body.
Suddenly, it was as if he stood inside those memories again.
The Planetary Library, once connected, opened everything to him.
But the human brain couldn't process such volume. Without filters, it would fry from the data flood.
Keywords were normally used to isolate relevance.
But now? Even the "irrelevant" parts were vital.
To restore a planet, every grain of truth mattered. Like tiny gears in a machine — meaningless alone, but essential to the whole.
And so, all records were needed.
For most, this would be impossible.
But Sora was no longer bound by human limits — he wielded omniscience.
Still, before him stretched a mountain of books — nearly ten thousand in all.
"Sort by chronological order."
Instantly, the towering sea of volumes compressed, merging by similarity.
Only a few thousand remained.
"Then... let's begin!"
Sora reached out, his hand touching the first volume.
History unfolded in his mind — a planet emerging from lifelessness, birthing life, nurturing prosperity.
Civilization sprouting, flora and fauna diversifying, culture blooming...
It all streamed into him, a chronicle burned into his mind.
And with it, he began to rebuild.
Physically, the core of the Day of Destruction began to change — lines of ancient script engraving themselves across its surface.
Through the chronicle etched in Sora's soul, the silver planet — Kaemomiar — was rewritten.
A golden cover. Weighty pages. The planet's full tale captured within.
Sora smiled and closed the book.
Destruction condensed around it — then coalesced into a new Wonder Ride Book in his hand.
[Silver Brilliance: Kaemomiar]
Legend tells of life born from decay on a world of—
The chant cut off.
Black mist seeped out. Red tendrils burst from within.
The Wonder Book twisted — mind-bending, sanity-breaking.
"Ah... right. I forgot about you."
As long as the sickness at the planet's root remained, resurrection was impossible.
That sickness had been planted even before Camille's birth.
Which meant Sora had one job:
He slotted the Haouken into the Driver — and drew it again.
"[Almighty Hissatsu Dokuha]!"
The corrupted Wonder Book shattered into pages.
The Haouken transformed — into a pen in Sora's hand.
Time to start making it up.