The silver-white swordsman appeared as if summoned by an ancient calling.
On his left: the skeletal features of the Primitive Dragon.
On his right: the radiant markings of the Miracle Beast of Starlight.
The traits of both beings fused along his form, guarding Sora's most vital points.
And finally—those two opposing arms met before his chest, clasping together in a mirrored handshake, shielding his heart like a sacred pact.
Kamen Rider Saber – Ancient Miracle Dragon Form.
Born from the union of the Primitive Dragon Wonder Ride Book and the Beast of Starlight Oath, this form fused primordial strength with planetary covenant.
On a chosen planet, it could resonate with the very world itself—and when it did, the entire planet would rise with him.
And now, that form had taken the battlefield.
Just standing there, it radiated overwhelming pressure.
Like the Primitive Dragon letting out a bone-shaking roar...
Like the Miracle Beast summoning a starlit arrow that could pierce a world...
Together, their combined aura made reality waver.
Can anything mortal truly emit this kind of presence?
Anyone witnessing it would find themselves thinking the same thing—whether they wanted to or not.
Even so, the creature before them still bore certain traits of a Doomsday Beast... albeit twisted, reformed.
Not exactly the image of "righteousness" you'd expect from a hero.
"Your future ends here. No one can change that."
Sora's voice rang out—clear and final.
He spoke to Zulo, who now stood fully revived across the scorched battlefield.
Zulo's final death would mark the true beginning of this planet's rebirth.
And yet… were these really the words of someone standing on the side of justice?
"You? You think you have the right to decide my future? Then let me show you—my future will stretch on forever!"
Zulo's reply came fast, dripping with scorn—and more than a little conviction.
To be fair… it wasn't exactly wrong.
Zulo wanted to persist—to pen new chapters of Destruction for the cosmos.
But something about this whole confrontation felt... off.
Hard to say what, exactly.
"That feeble sword of yours? It's not nearly enough to cut my future short!"
Zulo attacked.
The ground trembled violently. The plants and soil responded like living things—razor-sharp spikes sprouting from all directions, converging toward Sora's vitals.
A tactic designed for quick, efficient execution.
But before they could even land—
Sora raised a hand.
The spikes stopped midair.
"Is this all your strength amounts to?" he said flatly. "Then take it back. Let's see how it tastes."
He didn't even bother using his sword.
With a mere gesture, he redirected every spike—hurling them back at Zulo.
The planet's power didn't belong to Zulo alone.
Now, it was Sora's to command as well—through the Beast of Starlight Oath.
"What?!"
Zulo hadn't seen it coming. The spikes turned on him—faster, sharper, coming from angles even he hadn't anticipated.
He tried to dodge.
Too late.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The spikes drove into his resurrected body—clean through—leaving it riddled with gaping holes.
And in those barbs… the power of the Hunt stirred.
For just a moment, Zulo's consciousness drifted. He remembered the Rangers—their arrows, their relentlessness.
"This... this is the core difference between us."
Sora didn't have the Haouken in hand, but he could still draw upon a fragment of his omniscience.
With that, Zulo's every movement lay open to him. Defenseless.
But Zulo refused to accept that.
He launched wave after wave of attacks.
Storms surged. Firestorms erupted.
He tried every element, every angle, desperate to find a weakness.
And every time—Sora deflected them.
Not passively. Not by luck.
Precisely. Efficiently. Predictively.
When Zulo summoned a slicing storm, Sora simply adjusted its path—letting it shred Zulo himself.
When fire raged, Sora drew upon the planet's water veins—snuffing the flames before they could spread.
"The future you speak of… means nothing."
"I'm the one writing the new history."
Sora stepped forward.
Each step drew more pressure. Each word weighed heavier.
Zulo could feel it.
"Impossible!"
He refused to believe it.
He tried again to face Sora directly—again found every strike nullified.
Not countered. Not resisted. Evaporated.
Sora wasn't just fighting on even ground.
He understood the planet better than Zulo himself.
"No. No. That's not possible!"
"This world... it's me! It's my body! How can someone else know it better than I do? Something's wrong here!!"
He crushed the doubt—tried to shove it away.
But the fear had already taken root.
"I have to live. I WILL live. I MUST live!"
He repeated it—three times—forcing down the tremble in his core.
But fear suppressed is not fear erased.
Why, he wondered, did Destruction falter before this single man?
Sora raised his blade.
Its tip pointed straight at Zulo's throat.
"Now choose."
"Will you end it yourself… or shall I do it for you?"
The skeletal claws of the Primitive Dragon coiled around his arm.
Zulo had no more options.
And yet, when Sora spoke, he clenched his teeth.
"I will not lose. I WILL NOT LOSE. I will LIVE!!"
Golden runes surged across his body.
He merged fully with the planet's deep power—his last card.
"So that's your answer."
Sora's voice remained level.
He hadn't planned on sparing him anyway.
Zulo, newly reborn, was still at his weakest.
Now was the time.
Sora plunged the sword into the Driver—then drew it free once more.
"[Rekka Unleashed! Crash Final Slash]!"
The Ancient Miracle Dragon spread its wings.
Then launched—its form transforming into a silver-white arc of starlight that streaked toward Zulo.
Upon the blade:
The purple flame of the Ancient Dragon.
The silver brilliance of the Miracle Beast.
Twin colors entwined, blazing along the edge.
In a single heartbeat—
The sword reached Zulo.
And fell.