The command echoed, not in his ears, but in the marrow of his being, vibrating through the fractured void of his consciousness: "Transcend..."
Shinji Kazuhiko existed as a ghost within his own mind. Saganbo's neural seal was a suffocating shroud, severing him from his body, his voice, the tangible universe. He was a dead man listening to the cosmos whisper a single, impossible imperative. Yet, beneath the crushing weight of the seal, beneath the psychic numbness, a furnace still burned. His Trascender energy, suppressed but unextinguished, churned like a caged star.
"Transcend..."
Hope was a flickering ember, easily smothered by the vast emptiness. But Shinji clung to it. If the command existed, an answer must too. He focused inward, diving deep into the reservoir of his spirit, retracing the paths carved on Suchumus under Yamato's harsh tutelage. He visualized compressing his energy, seeking the core, the anchor point Merus had described. He pushed, strained, willed himself towards an understanding that danced just beyond his grasp. He recalled the wilderness, the deaths, the Voidheart Surge amplifying him through agony. He summoned the focus of sealing his spiritual signature, the intense calm needed to find his core.
Nothing.
The profound silence mocked him. The cosmic patterns in his mental obsidian cave pulsed with indifferent light. The voids yawned wider, threatening to swallow his resolve. The arguing figures blurred further, their silent conflict a maddening backdrop. The command remained, a relentless, unanswered drumbeat.
*What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?*
Frustration, hot and sharp, pricked at the edges of his awareness. He was trying too hard. He was thinking about transcending, strategizing it, wrestling with it like another opponent in the wilderness. He was stressed, terrified for his friends, burning with rage against Saganbo, haunted by the deaths of his family – a cacophony of emotions that clouded the pure stillness required. He didn't bother dissecting the specific thoughts; he recognized the noise.
*Abandon it.*
The decision was instantaneous, born of desperation and a spark of intuitive understanding. Not surrender, but a radical letting go. He released the tension coiling his spirit. He stopped trying to transcend. He stopped thinking about the command, about Saganbo, about Merus, about Kiyomi's blood on the dojo floor. He let the fear, the anger, the grief, the frantic calculations – he let it all flow out, like water draining from a shattered vessel.
He became pure focus. Not focus on something, but focus itself. Every scintilla of his being, every spark of his Trascender energy, was directed inwards, not with force, but with absolute, unwavering intent. He plunged deeper than he ever had before, past the memory of training, past the conceptual understanding of his core, into the raw, unformed essence of his own existence. He didn't dive; he became the dive. Calm, vast, and utterly still, like the eye of a cosmic hurricane.
He passed his Trascender Core.
It wasn't a physical passing, but an ontological shift. He didn't circumvent it; he encompassed it, understood it not as a limitation but as a point of origin, a seed. He existed beyond its current definition. The command, "Transcend...", didn't vanish; it was fulfilled. It ceased to be an external imperative and became the simple, undeniable state of his being.
"Congratulations. You've Transcended."
The voice wasn't heard; it was known. A silent affirmation resonating from the core of reality itself.
Shinji opened his eyes. Not the eyes of his physical body suspended in Saganbo's dark energy field, but the eyes of his unfettered consciousness. He stood in an impossibly vast cavern, its obsidian walls stretching into an infinity that hummed with latent power. The fractured dreamscape was gone, replaced by stark, imposing reality within his own spirit.
Before him stood five colossal doors, each radiating a distinct, overwhelming energy signature that resonated deep within his newly expanded awareness. Joy, pure and fierce, surged through him. He could hear the subtle hum of the energies! He could feel the cool, solid rock beneath his bare feet! He flexed his fingers, feeling the potential for movement, for action, thrumming in his spirit-form. Yet, when he tried to speak, to give voice to his elation, only silence emerged. His voice remained bound by Saganbo's seal, even here, at the pinnacle of his spiritual self.
He approached the doors, his heightened senses analyzing each:
The First Door: A maelstrom of Dark Negative Energy. It wasn't mere evil; it was primordial decay, the entropy that gnawed at the foundations of stars, the despair that extinguished hope. It pulsed with a hunger that threatened to consume his very essence. Shinji recoiled instinctively. *No. Not that.* The risk was annihilation, not just of form, but of self.
The Second Door: Thrumming with Moderate Evil Energy. Cunning, ambition, ruthless pragmatism. It spoke of power seized through domination, of ends justifying any means. It wasn't welcoming, but it felt... usable. Less like being consumed, more like wielding a poisoned blade.
The Third Door: Radiating Moderate Good Energy. Compassion, protection, righteous conviction. It felt like Miryoku's light, Merus's weary resolve. It promised strength in unity, defense against the encroaching dark. A path of shields and guardianship.
The Fourth Door: Bathed in Profoundly Good, Calm Energy. Serenity, boundless empathy, unconditional acceptance. It felt like the harmonious heart of Luminara amplified a thousandfold. Pure light, pure peace. An end to conflict through dissolution into universal love. His mind yearned for it, a balm for his tormented soul.
The Fifth Door: Exuding Obnoxious, Depressing Energy. Not evil, but a crushing weight of futility, despair, and nihilism. The pointlessness of struggle, the inevitability of decay. It sapped his newfound joy, whispering that transcendence itself was meaningless. A path of surrender to entropy.
His rational mind, seeking solace, screamed for the Fourth Door. Peace. An end to the pain. Harmony. But as he took an involuntary step towards its soothing light, his own Spirit revolted. It wasn't a thought; it was a visceral, overwhelming push, a fundamental rejection emanating from the core of his Trascender power. It shoved him violently away from the Fourth Door, its force like a gravitational tide pulling him relentlessly towards the Second Door.
Conflict erupted within him. Mind against Spirit. He planted his feet, straining against the internal tide. He couldn't stomach the Second Door's implicit ruthlessness, not after everything. *The Third,* he thought desperately, focusing on the Moderate Good. *Protection. Justice. Like Merus. Like protecting Earth.* He gathered his will, pushing back against his spirit's insistent pull towards the Second Door, aiming his momentum for the Third.
He misjudged the ferocity of his spirit's rejection of the Fourth Path. As he strained towards the Third Door, the counter-force from his own essence was too strong. He stumbled, off-balance, and the relentless pull towards the Second Door yanked him violently sideways. Not towards the Second. Not towards the Third.
He slammed shoulder-first into the cold, pulsating surface of the First Door.
Terror, pure and primal, seized him. Before he could even process the horror, the door swallowed him whole. It didn't open; it consumed. He was inside, and the door sealed shut behind him with a finality that echoed through his soul. Immediately, his entire being rebelled. His spirit shrieked in protest, his mind recoiled in visceral disgust, his very sense of self screamed to be released. He threw himself against the sealed exit, but it was immovable, a barrier against reality itself.
The path ahead wasn't a corridor, but a confined, oppressive space. And it was blocked. Not by rock, but by an Invisible Wall, shimmering faintly with the same dark negative energy as the door. Shinji pounded a fist against it in futile rage. And then he saw it.
On the other side of the wall, bathed in the faint, sickly glow permeating the space, stood himself.
Not a reflection. A solid, real presence. Same vibrant yellow hair tipped with green, same build, same blue eyes – but filled with an ancient weariness and a chilling, calculating intelligence that Shinji didn't recognize. This Shinji wore simpler, darker clothes, and a faint aura of controlled entropy clung to him like smoke.
The Other Shinji smiled, a cold, knowing curve of the lips. "Correct choice!" His voice was Shinji's, yet layered with echoes of cosmic voids and shattered realities.
Shinji opened his mouth to demand answers, to scream denial, but only silence emerged. He slammed his palm against the barrier again, frustration boiling over.
The Other Shinji chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "You know, Kazuhiko," he began, pacing slowly on his side of the wall, his gaze piercing, "sometimes the darkest path is the wisest one." He stopped, locking eyes with Shinji. "Because... the darkness itself will become the light. Or is that just a comforting hallucination whispered by fools afraid of the abyss?"
Shinji stared, utterly bewildered. Seeing himself, truly another self, was a violation deeper than any physical wound.
"You will always be a monster," the Other Shinji stated flatly, no malice, just cold fact. "There is no turning back from what you are, from the power that defines you. But what kind of monster you become..." He leaned closer to the barrier, his eyes burning with intensity. "...that is entirely up to you. Just think about it! Shinji Kazuhiko!" His voice rose, sharp with contempt. "TRASCENDER MY ASS! HOW CAN YOU BE CALLED A TRASCENDER WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN TRULY TRANSCEND THE ILLUSIONS OF 'GOOD' AND 'EVIL'?!"
Before Shinji could react, the Other Shinji moved. Not walking around, but through. The Invisible Wall shattered like black ice under his touch. He stepped across the threshold, closing the distance in an instant. Powerful arms wrapped around Shinji in a crushing embrace. It wasn't hostile; it was possessive, desperate. Shinji felt hot tears – his own tears, yet not – soaking into the fabric on his shoulder.
"Join me..." the Other Shinji whispered, his voice thick with an emotion Shinji couldn't name – grief, longing, terrifying conviction. "Join me... and together, we will end it all. This endless, futile cycle of Good and Evil. The pathetic pantomime of Justice and Unfairness. We will burn it down to its foundations." He pulled back slightly, gripping Shinji's shoulders, his tear-streaked face inches away, eyes blazing. "We will make the future safe. Not through fragile peace, but through absolute, final understanding. And we will achieve our dream... the dream that haunts you and me even now. We will find out the entire truth. No lies. No gods. No destiny. Just... truth."
The intensity, the raw certainty in the other's eyes, the seductive promise of answers and an end to the cosmic pain... it was overwhelming. And in that overwhelming moment, shockingly, Shinji found his voice. The seal within his spirit, confronted by this ultimate internal paradox, cracked.
"Who are you?" Shinji rasped, his own voice alien to his ears, tears mirroring those on his double's face.
The Other Shinji smiled, a ghost of the boy from Tokyo Science University, twisted by eons of walking the path Shinji now stood upon. "I'm your phantom dance partner. The steps you refused to learn. I'm your shadow, cast by the blinding light you still cling to. I'm not anything more... and I'm everything you fear becoming." He released Shinji's shoulders, his expression shifting to one of profound, weary resolve. "I'll tell you the entire truth. The truth that breaks worlds. And then, Kazuhiko... then we will truly Transcend it all. Not just power... but everything. Together."
He extended a hand, not across space, but across the chasm of possibility. Behind him, the path beyond the shattered wall yawned open, not into light, but into a deeper, more profound darkness that hummed with the promise of terrible, universe-shattering knowledge. The First Door hadn't led to annihilation. It had led to his own abyss. And his shadow stood at its edge, offering a hand. The choice, monstrous and undeniable, hung in the suffocating air.