The dangers of the Hollows are clear, but they persist because of the one thing New Eridu cannot live without: Ether. This anomalous energy, harvested exclusively from within the distortions, powers the entire modern world. The city is a labyrinth of pipelines pulsing with Ether; every flickering neon sign and heavy industrial machine is sustained by it. This dependency is precisely why New Eridu was built in the shadow of Hollow Zero—the massive, swirling abyss known as Limbo.
Whoever founded this city was either a visionary genius or a complete lunatic. Old Eridu was erased from the map by the sudden expansion of that very same abyss. Building a new metropolis right next to the monster that ate the old one is like setting up a picnic on the rim of an active volcano.
Yet, New Eridu thrives. In a world where a Hollow could swallow your neighborhood in the blink of an eye, nowhere is truly safe. But New Eridu, with its advanced Ether-tech and the endless resources of Limbo, has become the most prosperous bastion of humanity left.
To Kenji, Ether was basically the "quantum mechanics" of this world—a catch-all explanation for things science couldn't quite wrap its head around. He'd picked up most of this lore from the "uncle" at the coffee shop downstairs. Calling him an uncle was a stretch; he was actually a sentient AI robot with a passion for brewing espresso. In the "simple" societal landscape of New Eridu, self-aware robots—Bangboo and other constructs—were everywhere. Kenji wouldn't even be surprised if a mechanical uprising was scheduled for next Tuesday.
When he first arrived in this high-stress world, Kenji's plan was simple: lie down and wait for the end. But on his very first night, while he was staring at the ceiling at 4 AM, a light broke through his existential dread.
He would never forget that moment. A Kamen Rider Belt and the Kabuto Zecter had materialized right in front of him. At first, he thought he was hallucinating from sleep deprivation, but the familiar white scratch on the Zecter's red casing told him otherwise. His "frugal" collection from the old world had followed him here—and it had changed.
Naturally, a Toku fan doesn't just look at a belt. Standing in his dimly lit room in the dead of night, Kenji snapped the belt around his waist. He struck the iconic pose, his voice booming with a heroic flair that felt like it belonged on a soundstage.
"Henshin!"
As he clicked the Kabuto Zecter into its slot, hexagonal energy modules expanded around him. In a flash of light and a mechanical hum, Kenji was no longer a tired office worker. He was Kamen Rider Kabuto.
Looking down at his armored hands, Kenji had a sudden realization. He hadn't just brought a high-end prop into this world. He had brought the real thing.
He stumbled to the mirror, staring at the legendary Rider staring back. The technical specs flooded his mind. His torso was now encased in armor capable of shrugging off 2.4-meter reinforced anti-tank rounds. He possessed the strength to lift twenty-five tons with a single hand. His suit was a self-contained life support system, allowing him to fight for ten hours at altitudes that would freeze a normal man's lungs. He was, for all intents and purposes, a god of survival.
"I walk the path of Heaven... and I shall rule over all," Kenji whispered.
The sheer, majestic power radiating from the belt was intoxicating. He felt like he could level all of Sixth Street in minutes if the mood struck him. But he wasn't a villain. He was a fan who had inherited the soul of a hero.
Why was this power here? He figured he'd blame "quantum mechanics" for now. The Hollows and Ethereals were the perfect stand-ins for the monsters of the week. The Rider spirit was born to protect humanity, and Kenji realized he had a choice: he could be a coward and hide, or he could seize the moment.
For any Tokusatsu fan, the line between being a lifelong coward and a momentary hero is the "Henshin" call. Kenji decided that if this was his new life, he was going to live it at full throttle.
He wasn't sure how tough the Ethereals were yet, but he felt confident that Kabuto could carve a path through a horde of them. He did wonder, however, where the rest of his collection had gone. Some of the belts in his cabinet back home were world-enders. If he pulled the Oma Zi-O driver, he might accidentally kick Hollow Zero out of existence.
After practicing his "Cast Off" and "Clock Up" poses until the Zecter let out a weary, digital chirp of protest, Kenji realized the device was now fully sentient. It wasn't a toy anymore; it was an indestructible partner.
He fell asleep that morning hugging the belt like a lifeline. When he woke up, he embraced his role as a PSB recruit with newfound vigor. The Public Security Bureau was the only place that offered direct access to the Hollows and first-hand intel on the monsters.
Joining was easy enough for a man with "mature office worker" social skills. But on his second day, he discovered a catch. At exactly 4 AM, the Kabuto Zecter vanished, replaced by a different set of gear. He couldn't choose his power; it was a daily gacha pull.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Ryuga Banjou?"
His second "pull" was the Build Driver, accompanied by the Cross-Z Dragon and the Dragon Fullbottle. Looking at the set associated with the "Losing Streak King," Kenji felt his heart sink.
Was Kamen Rider Cross-Z powerful? On paper, yes—his punching force was a staggering twenty-seven tons. But in the show, the user was famous for taking beatings. Kenji realized the old saying applied perfectly here: It's not the car; it's the driver.
In Tokusatsu, people who get belts are either genetic anomalies or peak combatants. Kenji was neither. But as he looked at the belt, he remembered the "Novice Protection Period." Even a shut-in who struggled to carry a bucket of water could, once transformed, punch a monster through a brick wall.
"Survival of the fittest," Kenji muttered, gripping the Dragon Fullbottle. "Let's see if this 'Tank King' can actually take a hit."