Silver-white radiance interlaced with the violet light of the ancient dragon, the fusion of two forces—one born of antiquity, the other of the future—wove together in a dazzling crescendo.
And in the very next instant, Zulo was cleaved cleanly in half at the waist.
The point of impact shimmered with the glow of the Hunt—its power seeping into Zulo's very essence, corroding him with wild abandon.
Zulo, archenemy of the Galaxy Rangers, carried with him a seething resentment so potent that it amplified Hoshigaki Sora's attack manifold.
And so, with that single swing, the strike was cleaved straight through—undeterred even by the Emanator shard within Zulo's body, which was nearly instantaneously severed and rendered inert.
"How… how is this possible…"
Zulo's bisected body collapsed, his form beginning to dissolve into fading light.
He could not believe it. Barely revived—and already, this was the end?
This revival had cost him an enormous expenditure of power. It had taken everything to reconstruct his vessel.
He had been locked in an eternal struggle with the Hunt's force buried deep within the planet's core. Now, with this blow, that power would no doubt consume him utterly.
It felt like the final moment before death—terrifying, absolute.
His consciousness was slipping away. This resurrection had ended even more swiftly than the last.
And this time, he might not awaken again.
This time… he would truly perish.
He who had once swept across the stars, his name enough to strike fear across the universe…
Now reduced to this pitiful end.
How laughable. How tragic. How pathetic…
I wonder… the Aeon I served—at the end, will He…
!!!
In that daze between life and death, Zulo saw something.
Golden flames—flames that carried the stillness of death and the seed of genesis.
And amidst those flames stood a figure. An Aeon, eyes cold and emotionless.
"My… God…"
Zulo barely managed to whisper. But the deity did not even spare him a glance.
As if the one He had once empowered no longer merited His attention.
Not even worth looking at… compared to the boy who destroyed the might I bestowed…
Destruction. Even that which destroys destruction—is still destruction.
That cold indifference, that refusal to acknowledge him—it broke Zulo completely.
And in that moment, Zulo understood.
I… had already been walking the wrong path all along?
How… how could I have fallen this far…
Then, under the crushing pressure of the Aeon's gaze, Zulo's newly reawakened spirit shattered completely.
And so he died—not at Hoshigaki Sora's hand, but at the hand of the very god who embodied Destruction.
In his final moment, he thought he heard mad laughter—echoing, distorted—but he would never speak of it again.
Hoshigaki Sora stood over Zulo's fading corpse.
Even as the body disintegrated before his eyes, Sora did not relax. Not until every last trace was gone.
By logic, this should've been a close match. But he'd only just revived… this must be the decisive turning point.
Sora reasoned quietly to himself. If Zulo truly vanished, then this moment could anchor the final node.
And then… the planet could be completely restored.
But just then, Zulo's fading body suddenly ignited in golden flame.
Sora's eye twitched instinctively. Sure enough—just as he feared—a familiar figure emerged from the burning remains.
Silver-white hair. Deep black skin. Golden eyes. A humanoid form.
Floating, fractured arms. A gaping golden wound in the chest. And that same cold, indifferent gaze falling once again.
The Aeon of Destruction—Nanook.
"You again? Showing up twice in such a short span? Getting a little too fond of curtain calls, aren't you?"
Sora's voice was laced with fury, teeth clenched.
The armor of the Miracle Beast of Starlight shone with its silvery light, shielding him from the overwhelming pressure exuded by the Aeon.
Nanook, however, gave no reply.
He stared at Sora with that same empty gaze—as if nothing mattered.
As if He were about to unleash another Doomsday.
Then, a strand of golden radiance peeled away from His body—drifting toward Sora, as if meant to be a gift.
And in that moment, Sora understood what this was.
To destroy Destruction. To deny Destruction. Is, too, a form of Destruction.
This was an offering of destiny—the opening of the Path of Destruction, awaiting a fated soul to walk its course.
Accept this shard, and one would instantly become a true Trailblazer—a bearer of the cosmic Path.
To the average person, this would be an impossible temptation to resist.
To walk a Path. To wield divine might, gifted by an Aeon. Few across the universe could refuse.
But Sora did not accept.
Faced with this choice—he hesitated. Fell silent.
The Path of Destruction…
In his mind flashed the memories of all that had come before. Every moment, every encounter.
Children's laughter. The joy of dismantling the War Foundry. The silent farewells. A child's tearful wish to return home…
They spun through his thoughts—each one a consequence of the power now laid before him.
And so, the answer was clear.
"But, I refuse!"
Sora raised his sword, holding it before him as he looked Nanook dead in the eye.
He might very well be the first to draw his blade against an Aeon.
Yes. A human.
He had not stepped onto any Path. He was not a devotee of any Aeon.
He was just an ordinary person.
An ordinary person who wanted to preserve the goodness of this world.
So…
"I'm not going to destroy a damn thing!"
It seemed Nanook heard his resolve.
The Aeon's gaze lingered on him for a long time.
Then, in a burst of golden light, His figure vanished.
But he left something behind.
A force capable of destroying this world. Of reducing an entire civilization to nothing—beyond redemption.
Its name was:
The Antimatter Irreversibility Equation.
The Aeons know all.
The Doomsday he once left had already been destroyed by Sora—and so, he turned his gaze anew.
Sora refused him.
And yet, he acted still. Following his own immutable will.
Civilization was the cancer of the cosmos—and thus, it must be destroyed.
Even had Sora accepted the Path, the judgment would still have fallen.
Faced with this overwhelming threat, Sora instinctively held his breath.
The skeletal dragon beside him extended a claw to crush the artifact—
But it disintegrated to dust the moment it drew near.
The earth split open. Silver light erupted from its depths, desperately trying to reject the foreign object.
But it was all in vain.
And because this thing had manifested here, even the Haouken Xross Saber—its pages pinned by divine force—caught flame.
As if the entire story itself were about to burn.
---
"A madman's come. The madman's back again!"
Aha's voice echoed through the cosmos.
He didn't know what had happened. The scene across the galaxy was still a blank slate—no history yet written.
But He could sense that familiar power.
"Did the madman see my work and fly into a rage? Hilarious. Absolutely hilarious."
And with that, He laughed uproariously amid the stars.
Smashing scrap metal. Tricking fools. Chasing after idiots. Hunting down madmen.
These were among the few joys Aha pursued through the millennia.
So long as He could carry them out—even if it took thousands of years—it would be worth it.
Meanwhile, Fuli—the "fool" He teased—watched silently beside Him. Observing. Recording.
Memory does not bend to interpretation. It merely captures truth.
And truth was a treasure of the universe.
An eternal constant.
But what would unfold next? That, too, Fuli would record faithfully.
Yet as He transcribed, a strange anomaly emerged.
Two enormous numbers suddenly appeared in the galactic tableau.
One read: 45.
The other: 50.
Strange, unnatural values.
Perhaps the Erudition could divine their meaning—but here, Fuli could only inscribe them into the ledger of forever.
And then, just as suddenly—the numbers vanished.
Fuli found that He could no longer record.
Everything stopped at the moment those two numbers emerged.
From here on… only the naked eye could bear witness to what would follow.
Fuli fell silent.
He didn't know what had changed—or why.
What on earth is…
And Aha, who had been laughing maniacally this whole time—suddenly fell quiet as well.
An unsettling break from His usual antics.
Unless, of course, He found silence itself amusing.
But He said nothing more…
The Antimatter Irreversibility Equation—a power so absolute that whatever it touches will be irreversibly transformed.
Perhaps it is evolution. Perhaps it is the end.
But either way, its arrival now posed a catastrophic threat.
To a planet not yet rebuilt, it was nothing short of apocalyptic.
It anchored itself into the most vital node of the tale.
Even if everything else were restored, the moment this was complete, the rest of the story would burn away.
And it was tied to Zulo's existence.
Meaning—if Sora wished to restore Planet Camille, the Antimatter Irreversibility Equation would reappear at that key node five years ago.
It was as though the narrative itself had been sealed.
As though no one could change what was coming.
Until—
A book appeared at Sora's side.
"If you're faced with a problem you can't solve… it's time to call a hero."
The voice came from within the book—a human voice.
Sora turned his gaze.
It was a white-bound volume, glowing with presence.
On its cover—
The image of a hero.