The oppressive silence of the path beyond Door One pressed in on Shinji, a tangible weight born of primordial darkness and the terrifying potential AFS represented. His mind reeled from the revelations – the Asagaverse, the Twelve Gods, the Three First Trascenders who dwarfed Saganbo like stars did fireflies. The concept of his own "infinite potential" felt less like a gift and more like a cosmic sentence, a vastness that mocked his current helplessness.
"In details?" Shinji echoed, his voice tight with a mixture of awe and dread. "What do you mean? Is there more to cover?" The sheer scale AFS had outlined felt universe-shattering enough. What deeper layer could possibly remain?
AFS chuckled, a dry, rasping sound devoid of true mirth. His obsidian eyes, mirrors reflecting Shinji's own terrified confusion, held centuries of weary knowledge. "Of course there is more, Shinji Kazuhiko. About Transcending, that is... The entire meaning of a Trascender! The entire Truth about what we are!"
Shinji flinched. The capitalizations resonated in the psychic space, imbued with a gravity that made his Trascender Core thrum uncomfortably. "Is it really that much?" he whispered, the bravado he'd mustered moments ago crumbling. He felt small, impossibly small, adrift in an ocean where even gods were insignificant plankton.
AFS leaned closer, his spectral form radiating cold certainty. "What's a Trascender, Shinji?"
The question hung in the void. Shinji closed his eyes, trying to grasp the essence. He recalled Yamato's lessons, Merus's warnings, the raw, terrifying power surging within him during his battles. He thought of the Voidheart Surge, the regeneration, the spiritual annihilation that had shattered Khoseph's black holes. "A Trascender... huh?" he murmured, opening his eyes to meet AFS's unnerving gaze. "A Trascender..." He trailed off, the words failing him. The definition he'd learned felt childish, inadequate against the backdrop of cosmic oceans and primordial entities.
"Stuck, aren't you?" AFS observed, a hint of grim satisfaction in his tone. He hadn't moved, yet his presence seemed to fill the entire dark path, pressing Shinji down. "The knowledge is there, buried deep. But you don't truly comprehend it yet. You haven't integrated it."
Shinji swallowed, the phantom taste of ash and ozone filling his mouth. "I guess I am... I don't really comprehend this... not the way you mean." The weight of his ignorance felt like another chain binding him.
AFS nodded slowly. "Trascender. Almost the same term as 'Transcendent.' Your powers stem from an infinite accumulation of... call it potential, call it primordial matter, call it the raw fabric of possibility made manifest. You studied Transcendence, yes?"
Shinji grasped the lifeline of familiar academic ground. "Yeah. I did. A Transcendent... it's an excellent, perfected being. Ultimate. Free from the usual constraints of the material world. Unbound by physical laws, mortality..." He recited it like a textbook passage, the words feeling hollow.
"As expected of the model student," AFS acknowledged, though the compliment was laced with something akin to pity. "I knew you knew the basic definition. However," his voice hardened, sharp as Kokuto's blade, "that is merely the foundation. The kindergarten primer."
Shinji's breath hitched. "So... what's the true definition?"
AFS straightened, his form seeming to draw the surrounding darkness into itself, becoming a silhouette etched against the void. His voice resonated with a chilling finality, each word striking Shinji like a physical blow. "A Trascender is an excellent Perfected Being, akin to the Transcendent. But it is infinitely more. A Trascender doesn't just transcend the material world. It transcends Transcendence itself. It transcends Perfection. It transcends the very concept of Supremacy."
He paused, letting the immensity sink in. Shinji felt his mind straining, trying to conceptualize something that defied hierarchy, that existed beyond the pinnacle. It was dizzying, terrifying.
"Boundless," AFS continued, the word echoing like a gong in the silence. "If a Trascender were to reach its end – an end inherently unreachable – it would be boundless. Its potential is absolute infinity. Endless. Limitless. It acknowledges no bounds, recognizes no rules imposed by gods, multiverses, or even the fundamental laws governing existence. It is the potential for everything, contained within a single, evolving point of consciousness."
A spark ignited in Shinji's chest, momentarily burning away the fear. "Are you telling me... I'm that amazing?!" The sheer, staggering scope of it was intoxicating. Infinite potential! Limitless!
AFS's spectral hand shot out, a chilling wave of negation washing over Shinji, extinguishing the spark of excitement. "Don't get too heated up, fool!" he snapped, his voice laced with centuries of bitter experience. "That is merely potential. Theoretical. Abstract. The current you?" AFS gestured dismissively at Shinji's battered astral form. "You are nothing in the grand tapestry. Less than an atom swirling in the cosmic winds. Your power, compared to what you could be, is negligible. Minuscule."
"I know that!" Shinji protested, the sting of AFS's words sharp. "But even the potential... it's incredible! It means... it means I can become anything! Defeat anyone!"
AFS sighed, a sound like wind through a desolate crypt. "Even if I am you, I still don't understand why I was so naively enthusiastic at this stage." He fixed Shinji with a stare that held the weight of infinite regrets. "If you possess infinite potential, Shinji, it logically follows that you require infinite time to actualize even a fraction of it. To reach its 'fullest'? A logical impossibility within any conceivable timeframe. Infinity divided by any finite number... remains infinity. You will always be infinitely far from your own theoretical peak."
The chilling logic settled over Shinji like a shroud. The boundless potential suddenly felt like an unbreakable cage.
"And," AFS added, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried the finality of a tomb sealing, "I am proof of that futility. I died just four weeks after the point where you stand now."
Shinji's blood ran cold. Terror, pure and primal, seized him. His astral form flickered violently. "What?!" The word tore from him, ragged and disbelieving. "How?! Saganbo? Kokuto?"
AFS shook his head, a grim smile touching his lips. "No. I didn't even have the dubious honor of being captured by Saganbo. My end came swiftly, unexpectedly. A figure... a man with hair like spun sunlight. Blonde. Cold eyes that held no emotion, only calculation." A phantom shiver seemed to pass through AFS. "Right before my consciousness dissolved into absolute nothingness, he addressed himself. A single syllable, heavy with finality. 'X'."
"Killed you?" Shinji breathed, horror dawning. "He... he got your core?"
AFS's spectral form seemed to waver, the memory visceral. "He didn't just get it. He unmade me. With a gesture, he reduced my entire being – body, spirit, the very essence of my existence – to complete, utter nothingness. Oblivion. There was no struggle, no grand battle. One moment I existed, the next... void. My Trascender Core, the anchor of my immortality, was the last fragment to fade. He simply... watched it dissolve. It wasn't power as we understand it, Shinji. It was negation. Erasure on a fundamental level. I don't think he was mortal at all. He felt... older. Different."
"Made you into Nothingness?" Shinji whispered, the concept chilling him to his core. "What kind of power was that?"
"There is no point dwelling on it now," AFS stated flatly, regaining his composure. "The lesson is this: arrogance is a death sentence. You are a small pest in the grand scheme. Potential means nothing without survival. And survival, right now, requires humility and focus."
Shinji nodded numbly, the terror of X's casual erasure mixing with the crushing weight of his cosmic insignificance. "I got it. But... I still need some motivation, don't you think? Something to fight for?" The image of his aunt and sister, Kiyomi's fiery hair, Merus's weary determination, flickered in his mind's eye.
AFS regarded him silently for a long moment. "It's unnecessary," he finally said, his tone softening almost imperceptibly. "The will to survive, the refusal to be erased – that should be motivation enough. But... very well. Focus on getting unsealed now. Saganbo holds your physical form captive. He could shatter your core whenever it amuses him."
The immediate threat snapped Shinji back. "How can I escape?"
"Escape?" AFS raised an ethereal eyebrow. "Don't you intend to fight? To avenge your family? Your world?"
Shinji met his alternate self's gaze, a newfound hardness settling in his own. "It's unwise. Suicidal. I need to get unsealed, regain control, and then run. Regroup. Train. Become more than just potential before I face him."
A flicker of something like approval crossed AFS's shadowed features. "You truly have matured, haven't you? Or perhaps learned the value of tactical retreat." He gave a curt nod. "It is the only rational choice. Fighting Saganbo now is tantamount to cosmic suicide. However," his expression turned grim, "escaping won't be simple. His throne room is a fortress, guarded by Monarchs and saturated with his power. That's why you need to know about this."
A faint, complex pattern, woven from strands of pure void and shimmering potential, materialized in the air between them. It pulsed with a low, powerful thrum that resonated strangely with Shinji's core.
"A power?" Shinji breathed, leaning closer. "Can I use it? Now?"
"Not quite yet," AFS admitted. "It requires conscious integration, a specific alignment of your core with the fundamental resonance of absence and potential. But I believe you can grasp it, if you follow my guidance precisely. Think of it not as an Act, but as a fundamental shift in perception – aligning your existence with the Voidheart itself. It allows you to... slip between the threads of reality, momentarily untethered. Imperfect, draining, but potentially... an exit."
Shinji stared at the pattern, the intricate dance of void and light burning itself into his consciousness. It felt alien, dangerous, yet undeniably powerful. Hope, fragile but fierce, warred with the lingering terror. Escape. A chance. "Show me," he whispered, steeling himself for the lesson from his own, terrifying future.
Meanwhile: Chamber Seven
The air in Chamber Seven vibrated with a low, oppressive hum, thick with the psychic residue of countless failed challengers and the crushing proximity of Saganbo's throne room just beyond the colossal, energy-shielded archway at the far end. The chamber itself was vast and unnerving – walls and floor seemingly carved from solidified shadow, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Jagged obsidian spires rose towards a ceiling lost in darkness, their tips crackling with unstable violet energy. The only illumination came from sporadic bursts of lightning arcing between the spires and the faint, sickly glow emanating from the pulsating shield barring the way to Shinji's captivity.
Merus lay crumpled at the base of one such spire, cerulean blood pooling beneath him, staining the shadow-stone. His breathing was shallow, ragged. The forced Gorogilian Yellow Ring had shattered completely during Kokuto's assault, leaving the God of Creation critically drained, divine essence leaking from multiple wounds. Nearby, Kuro was a broken figure. His right leg ended just below the knee in a horrifically clean cut that wasn't bleeding. The space itself had been severed by Kokuto's blade, leaving the wound edges shimmering with unstable spatial energy, cauterized by the fundamental violation of reality. Unconsciousness had mercifully claimed him, his face pale beneath streaks of soot and luminous blood where the spatial severance had interacted with his physiology.
Kagaya, the mountain of muscle, stood hunched, leaning heavily on his massive Boulder like a crutch. His tribal markings pulsed a weak, faltering emerald light as he fought to channel his waning spiritual energy to seal countless gashes and internal injuries. Blood streamed from a gash on his forehead, matting his fiery hair. Each breath was a ragged gasp that echoed in the oppressive silence. Opposite him, Shirou braced himself against a jagged outcrop of shadow-stone. His tactical vest was shredded, revealing deep, weeping wounds on his chest and side. His left arm hung useless, dislocated at the shoulder. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and a nasty bruise swelling around his right eye. His breathing was harsh, pained, but his remaining good hand, though trembling violently with exhaustion and injury, maintained a white-knuckled grip on the massive Emerald Laser rifle. The weapon felt like a lead weight.
Kokuto stood amidst the devastation, seemingly untouched save for a thin, smoking line across the chest of his black jacket – Shirou's desperate point-blank shot deflected at the last nanosecond. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, the only concession to the exertion of dismantling a god and his allies. His crimson scarf hung unnaturally still, defying the chaotic energy currents in the chamber. He flicked a speck of non-existent dust from Void-Shear, the blade humming with contained spatial power. He regarded the remaining combatants with detached interest, his gaze lingering on Shirou's rifle.
"Emerald Laser Beam," he stated calmly, his voice cutting through the groans of the wounded and the low hum of the chamber. "An interesting application of focused photonic spiritual energy. Amplified to impressive levels. To penetrate even my kinetic dispersion field momentarily..." He inclined his head slightly, a parody of courtesy. "I am the Swordwrath Monarch, Kokuto. A pleasure to finally meet the source of such firepower... though, I confess, your name escapes me."
Shirou spat a mouthful of blood onto the shadow-stone floor. Pain lanced through his ribs with the movement, but he forced a grim, defiant smirk. "Shirou," he rasped, pushing himself upright with a grunt that tore at his dislocated shoulder. He raised the heavy rifle, the barrel wavering alarmingly before he steadied it with sheer willpower, aiming squarely at Kokuto's chest. "Nishizumi Shirou." He took a shallow, painful breath, meeting the Monarch's unnerving, depthless gaze. "And I'm the man who never misses."
Beside him, Kagaya roared, a sound of pure, agonized defiance that seemed to momentarily disturb the oppressive shadows. "SHIROU! YOU'RE THE LEAST SMASHED OF US IN HERE! I HATE TO ADMIT IT, BIG TIME! BUT... I'LL COUNT ON YOU! GIVE 'IM HELL! MAKE THAT FANCY SWORD CHIP!" He slammed the butt of his hammer down for emphasis, the impact sending fresh waves of pain through his battered frame but also a surge of defiant emerald light from his markings.
Shirou didn't take his eyes off Kokuto. The Monarch's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of amusement, or perhaps mere acknowledgment of the sniper's audacity against impossible odds. Kokuto shifted his stance minutely, Void-Shear held low but ready, the blade's edge seeming to drink the ambient light and the sporadic violet flashes from the spires. The air crackled with tension thicker than the chamber's heavy atmosphere. Kokuto's mind briefly flickered back to the desperate struggle, the surprising resilience, the space-cutting technique he'd been forced to employ against Kuro's analytical gambits. *They pushed harder than anticipated... wasted effort, but notable.*
"Very well, Shirou Nishizumi," Kokuto murmured, his voice devoid of malice, only cold, professional assessment. "Demonstrate this unerring accuracy. Let us see if your aim transcends the limits of space itself, here at the threshold of oblivion." He raised his blade slowly, deliberately, the point aimed not at Shirou, but at the space between them. A subtle distortion began to form around the tip, the fabric of reality groaning in protest as he prepared to shear it open once more.
Shirou's finger tightened on the trigger. The Emerald Laser rifle whined as it cycled its final, desperate charge, drawing power directly from its core, bypassing damaged conduits. Sweat stung his eyes, mixing with blood. His vision narrowed to the crosshairs superimposed on Kokuto's impassive face, the faint spatial distortion around the blade, and the horrifyingly clean, space-severed stump of Kuro's leg. He saw Merus's broken form, Kagaya's desperate, crumbling faith. He saw the 100 Space Dust fee, a ridiculous anchor in this cosmic hellscape. He saw Shinji Kazuhiko, the kid he'd tried to kill, now their only hope, trapped just beyond a shimmering shield.
*Don't miss. Can't miss. Won't miss.* The mantra was a lifeline, a core belief forged in a thousand battles across lesser hells.
He exhaled, a slow, controlled breath that steadied the wavering barrel, pushing the agony of his body into a distant corner of his mind. Time seemed to stretch, the whine of the rifle reaching a piercing, almost agonized crescendo. Kokuto's blade began its descent, a fraction of an inch that promised another spatial dissection, another impossible wound.
Shirou pulled the trigger.
A searing emerald beam, condensed to near-solidity, brighter and more focused than ever before, screamed across the shadowed chamber. Not aimed at Kokuto's body, but directly at the heart of the spatial distortion coalescing around his descending blade – an impossible shot at an impossible, ephemeral target, fired by the man who claimed he never missed. The beam struck the focal point of Kokuto's focused spatial shearing power just as Void-Shear began to tear reality apart.
The collision was silent for a split second, a vacuum of sound as coherent light met unraveling space. Then – KRAAAK-BOOOOOOOOOM!
A cataclysm of emerald light and shattered spatial dimensions erupted, engulfing the center of Chamber Seven. The shockwave ripped through the oppressive shadows, shattering obsidian spires like glass. The energy shield barring the throne room flared violently, buckling inward. Kokuto was swallowed by the maelstrom, his form momentarily obscured by the blinding fury of light and screaming void. Shirou was hurled backwards, the rifle ripped from his grasp as he slammed into the shadow-stone wall. Kagaya threw himself over the unconscious Merus and Kuro, his emerald aura flaring weakly as a shield against the devastating backwash. The very foundations of the Labyrinth seemed to groan under the impossible strain. The final barrier trembled. The path to the captured Trascender, for a single, chaotic moment, hung in the balance.