The journey back to Federation X unfolded, Hours earlier, that same horizon had been torn apart by forces capable of bending Yggdrasil, yet now only scattered clouds drifted lazily through the darkness as though the world had already begun erasing every trace of the catastrophe.
Akashi crossed that silence carrying Kanji across his shoulders with effortless balance, neither hurried nor slow, his footsteps leaving faint impressions upon ruined highways, abandoned forests and shattered concrete before disappearing again into the immense distance separating the land from civilization. The wind carried the scent of rain mixed with pulverized stone, but Akashi barely acknowledged it. His thoughts refused to remain with Kanji for long. They returned again and again toward the unknown suited.
Inside his ear, the communication device remained active.
For nearly the entire journey...
Tenka spoke.
Tenka – "Satellite observation stopped functioning approximately three minutes after your arrival. Energy values exceeded every theoretical ceiling before abruptly returning to zero. At one point your Omega signature vanished for exactly two-point-three seconds while visual confirmation continued uninterrupted. I... I genuinely don't know how to explain that."
She paused only briefly before another report followed,.
Tenka – "The battle between Kanji and Enazumi... we reviewed every surviving recording multiple times. During the opening exchanges, Enazumi clearly possessed the advantage. Later, after Dragon Metamorphosis, the difference became even greater. Statistically speaking, Kanji should have reached a point where he exceeded every previous projection by several orders of magnitude. Then your fight began, and according to every calculation available to us, Enazumi should have remained significantly stronger than you."
Tenka – "...Except he didn't."
Akashi remained walking without altering his pace.
Kanji's breathing stayed weak but stable against his back.
The rhythm of each step never changed.
Tenka continued.
Tenka – "You closed the gap impossibly quickly."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
When she spoke again...
Her voice sounded different.
Much softer.
Tenka – "...During the conversation between Kanji and Enazumi..."
She had cried.
Quietly.
With nobody else inside the room.
She swallowed before continuing.
Tenka – "...I almost forgot I was supposed to be analyzing the battle."
Akashi – "Mm."
That single sound somehow embarrassed Tenka more than any comment possibly could.
She immediately cleared her throat.
When she spoke again...
Her usual composure had already returned.
Federation X never truly slept.
The moment Akashi stepped through the reinforced entrance carrying Kanji upon his back, the entire atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly. Conversations stopped. Doctors abandoned unfinished discussions. Nobody asked what had happened.
Kanji was the reason for that.
His body had become little more than accumulated injuries held together through stubbornness beyond ordinary understanding.
Within moments, medical personnel carefully transferred him onto an advanced recovery platform suspended above the operating chamber. Hundreds of microscopic manipulators descended immediately, surrounding his body while soft blue light scanned every fracture, every damaged organ and every exhausted Yin pathway. Mechanical arms moved with astonishing precision, administering treatment impossible for ordinary medicine while the surrounding machines projected complex anatomical diagrams into the air above him.
Akashi watched only briefly.
Then turned away.
Tenka entered several moments later.
She walked into the medical wing carrying an electronic tablet beneath one arm, her expression perfectly composed as though the previous hours had consisted of nothing more dramatic than an ordinary field operation. Every trace of emotion had disappeared behind the familiar professionalism expected from Federation X's chief analyst.
Akashi looked at her.
Then smiled faintly.
Akashi – "You're pretending."
She blinked.
Tenka – "Pretending?"
Akashi – "That you weren't crying."
Her entire posture froze.
"..."
She looked away.
Tenka – "Your observational abilities are becoming increasingly irritating."
Akashi laughed quietly.
Akashi – "I thought it suited you."
She sighed.
Tenka – "Please never say that sentence again."
Akashi's amusement gradually disappeared as another thought returned.
He looked toward Tenka.
Akashi – "The man."
She immediately understood.
Tenka – "He doesn't exist."
Akashi tilted his head.
Akashi – "How."
Tenka – "I dont know, Theres simply no info about him."
Tenka – "...I've never seen anything like this."
Several moments later, she returned to another subject.
Tenka – "There's something I still don't understand."
He looked back.
Tenka – "During the latter half of the battle, Enazumi should have surpassed you."
She folded both arms.
"So should Kanji during several isolated moments."
She hesitated.
"...Yet you caught up."
Another pause.
Then she asked the question that had been bothering her since the first replay.
Tenka – "...Or..."
"...were you never fighting at full capacity to begin with?"
Akashi thought about it.
Not for long.
Then...
A smile slowly appeared, like a nostalgic one
Akashi – "I was having fun."
Tenka stared.
"...That's your answer?"
He nodded.
Akashi – "Yep."
"..."
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
"...I analyzed twelve terabytes of combat data..."
"...for that?"
Akashi shrugged.
Akashi – "It was a really fun fight."
Tenka closed her eyes.
For several long seconds...
She seriously considered leaving the room.
Eventually she sighed once more.
Tenka – "So..."
"...who's the strongest?"
Akashi answered immediately.
Akashi – "Enazumi."
He looked toward the sleeping Kanji.
Akashi – "Kanji."
Then...
His eyes drifted somewhere far beyond the room itself.
"...Inei."
His smile disappeared.
"And..."
A longer silence followed.
"...that suited man."
Tenka looked surprised.
Tenka – "Above Enazumi?"
Akashi slowly shook his head.
Akashi – "I don't know."
"I couldn't feel him."
"No Yin."
He looked strangely serious.
"If I can't even perceive how someone exists..."
"...I'm not stupid enough to assume I'm stronger."
The automatic doors slid open.
Omoshiro entered quietly.
His clothes carried traces of dust from the bridge where he had remained after Akashi's departure, yet his expression looked unexpectedly... peaceful.
Akashi glanced toward him.
Akashi – "You're late."
Omoshiro smiled faintly.
Omoshiro – "I was talking."
Tenka looked up.
Tenka – "To Inei?"
He nodded.
Omoshiro – "For a long time."
The room waited.
Omoshiro finally spoke again.
Omoshiro – "He accepted."
Akashi raised an eyebrow.
Akashi – "Accepted what?"
Omoshiro – "He's coming."
A brief pause.
Omoshiro – "One week."
Tenka blinked.
"...He actually agreed?"
Omoshiro nodded.
"He said he'll probably leave with exactly the same conclusions."
A small smile appeared.
"But..."
"He'll come."
Akashi looked toward the ceiling for several moments before quietly laughing to himself.
Kanji slept only a few meters away.
Morning arrived, After the chaos of the previous day, however, even those artificial sunrises felt strangely subdued.
Tenka stood before the central holographic table with both hands resting against its edge, dozens of reconstructed trajectories floating around her while she continuously compared one simulation against another. Every model diverged the moment Akashi awakened the Asura State. Some predicted victory within minutes. Others insisted Enazumi should still have prevailed despite Akashi's exponential growth. A handful simply terminated themselves, identifying their own calculations as logically inconsistent. None of them satisfied her. Numbers had always represented certainty.
The automatic doors opened.
Akashi entered without announcing himself.
His clothes had already been replaced, every visible trace of the previous battle removed except for a faint bandage wrapped casually around one hand. He walked through the command room with his usual relaxed posture, neither hurried nor particularly interested in the enormous displays surrounding him. Instead, his attention drifted naturally toward the observation window overlooking Kanji's recovery chamber. The young man remained asleep, surrounded by mechanical arms continuously repairing injuries that ordinary medicine would have considered irreversible. Akashi watched him for several seconds before speaking almost absentmindedly.
Akashi – "Still asleep."
Tenka did not immediately look away from the projections.
Tenka – "His body is healing much faster than expected, but the medical staff deliberately slowed part of the regeneration process. They were worried that repairing every injury simultaneously would place even greater stress upon his Yin pathways. Physically, he'll recover. What concerns them more is everything they can't measure."
Akashi turned slightly.
Akashi – "His mind."
Tenka nodded.
Tenka – "Revenge occupied nearly every major decision he made for years. Whether that obsession was healthy isn't the point anymore. It gave structure to his existence. Now it's gone."
Akashi remained silent for a while.
His gaze stayed fixed upon Kanji.
Akashi – "I Somewhat understand him."
Tenka allowed herself the smallest smile.
Tenka – "Coming from you, that's almost philosophical."
Akashi looked genuinely confused.
Akashi – "Was it?"
She laughed quietly.
Several minutes later, another familiar presence entered without ceremony. Omoshiro, greeting both of them with a relaxed nod before stopping beside Tenka's tactical display. Theta continued listening to countless minds across the Federation, yet instead of overwhelming him as it once had, the constant flow of thoughts now resembled background rain rather than an endless storm.
Omoshiro – "The doctors said Kanji's condition stabilized during the night. They expect him to regain consciousness within a day or two if nothing unexpected happens."
Tenka minimized several projections before answering.
Tenka – "Good. I'd rather he wakes naturally than force the process. His nervous system has already endured enough."
Omoshiro quietly watched Kanji through the glass.
Omoshiro – "He's going to have a difficult time."
Akashi folded his arms.
Akashi – "I dont think so, He is strong."
Omoshiro glanced toward him.
Omoshiro – "You don't sound worried."
Akashi – "Because nobody else can decide what comes after revenge except the person who spent years chasing it. If we answer that question for him, then we're just replacing one purpose with another."
All three recognized the truth inside those words.
Kanji's next step would have to belong entirely to Kanji.
Tenka – "The outside world has no idea what actually happened yesterday. As far as international agencies are concerned, it was a series of unrelated natural disasters. Federation X remains unmentioned in every report I've intercepted."
Akashi nodded once.
Akashi – "Makes sense."
Tenka looked at him.
Tenka – "You don't find that strange?"
He slowly shook his head.
Akashi – "No."
She waited.
Akashi's eyes drifted upward thoughtfully.
Akashi – "People usually reject the truth because they're stupid. They also reject it because ordinary explanations let them continue living ordinary lives."
Then Omoshiro smiled faintly.
Omoshiro – "Inei would probably enjoy arguing with that sentence for three hours."
Akashi – "I hope he does."
Within the span of a single heartbeat, every screen inside Federation X abandoned its current task. Medical monitors, tactical displays, hallway information panels, office televisions and even the massive holographic wall dominating the command center all dissolved into identical waves of static before synchronizing with precision.
The facility's internal systems immediately attempted to restore control, but every command returned the same response. Access denied.
A simple symbol slowly emerged from the static. It consisted of a perfectly black circle divided by a single crimson line forming the unmistakable shape of the letter "Z." No accompanying organization identified itself. No threatening message appeared beneath the emblem. The image remained motionless for several seconds before disappearing as quietly as it had arrived, replaced not by propaganda or political demands, but by crystal-clear footage of the battlefield beneath Yggdrasil.
Whoever had taken control of the broadcast possessed recordings from angles that should never have existed, following Kanji, Enazumi and eventually Akashi with impossible proximity throughout every stage of the conflict.
Tenka's expression hardened immediately. Her fingers crossed the holographic keyboard so quickly that dozens of security protocols activated almost simultaneously, isolating internal servers, tracing transmission routes and attempting to disconnect Federation X from every external communication channel.
Each countermeasure failed before it even fully initialized. The unknown signal neither forced its way through the Federation's defenses nor dismantled them. It simply behaved as though those defenses had never existed in the first place, overriding systems designed by some of the world's greatest engineers without leaving behind a measurable point of intrusion.
Tenka – "This isn't simply a network breach. Every military-grade encryption layer is responding normally, yet none of them are interacting with whatever is transmitting this signal. Whoever orchestrated this broadcast.."
The recording continued uninterrupted while Tenka searched desperately for explanations. It began with Kanji confronting Kashigi, documenting every exchange in astonishing detail before seamlessly transitioning toward Enazumi's arrival.
There were no dramatic edits, no music, no narrator attempting to guide the audience's emotions. The cameras merely observed. Every punch, every transformation, every philosophical exchange between father and son unfolded exactly as it had occurred. Whoever assembled the footage demonstrated remarkable restraint, refusing to manipulate events despite possessing every opportunity to reshape the story into something sensational.
Outside Federation X, the consequences spread faster than any emergency broadcast in modern history. Every major television station across Japan abruptly lost control of its programming at precisely the same moment. Morning news programs vanished in the middle of interviews. Children's cartoons froze before dissolving into the same mysterious symbol.
Financial reports, cooking shows, sporting events and entertainment channels all surrendered simultaneously to the identical transmission. Millions of households initially assumed a technical malfunction had affected their local provider until relatives living hundreds of kilometers away reported watching exactly the same images unfold in real time.
Inside restaurants, conversation gradually faded as customers abandoned their breakfasts to stare toward mounted televisions displaying two men destroying entire sections of landscape with forces that seemed incompatible with human existence.
Airports filled with travelers gathering around public screens instead of boarding announcements. Hospital waiting rooms, university cafeterias, police stations and shopping centers all experienced the same transformation as ordinary routines quietly surrendered to collective disbelief.
Professional news presenters fought desperately to preserve some degree of normality despite having completely lost authority over their own broadcasts. Several attempted to reassure viewers that government agencies were already investigating what appeared to be an unprecedented cyberattack, but their voices repeatedly disappeared beneath the continuing footage. Every attempt to interrupt the transmission failed.
As the battle progressed, the reactions of those watching evolved alongside its escalating scale. Initial skepticism gradually transformed into uncomfortable silence as Kanji's Light Mode illuminated the battlefield like a second sunrise before Enazumi answered with the overwhelming majesty of Dragon Metamorphosis. Entire mountains disappeared beneath expanding shockwaves while the six-kilometer golden dragon dominated the horizon with a presence too immense to dismiss as visual fabrication.
By the time the colossal sphere of condensed lightning erupted beyond Earth's atmosphere, its apparent diameter rivaling that of the Moon from Earth's surface, even experienced military analysts appearing on secondary broadcasts had stopped attempting immediate explanations.
The final portion of the recording introduced Akashi without ceremony. Millions watched him enter a battlefield where Kanji himself had already accepted defeat, calmly intercept Enazumi's attack with one hand and awaken the Asura State before engaging in a battle that defied every expectation established by the previous confrontation. Unlike Kanji's desperate struggle, Akashi's movements carried an unsettling sense of curiosity, as though he approached the strongest opponent he had ever encountered less as an enemy than as an unanswered question.
The footage concluded immediately after Enazumi's defeat, deliberately omitting every trace of the unknown suited man. The mysterious symbol returned for several seconds before every television across the country quietly resumed its normal programming, leaving behind no explanation beyond the memory of what the world had just witnessed.
For several long moments, nobody inside Federation X spoke. Tenka remained standing before the tactical console, her breathing noticeably heavier than before while countless failed diagnostic windows surrounded her like accusations.
She finally deactivated every holographic display with a frustrated gesture, understanding that further analysis would accomplish nothing until she accepted the uncomfortable reality before her. Whoever had orchestrated the broadcast had never intended to conceal their superiority. They had demonstrated it openly, reducing every technological achievement Federation X possessed to little more than decoration.
Tenka – "Someone wanted humanity to witness these events, but only within boundaries they themselves established."
Omoshiro remained remarkably composed throughout the entire incident. He watched the final traces of static disappear from the nearest television before quietly folding his arms, his attention focused less upon the technical implications than upon the intentions guiding them.
The longer he considered the structure of the broadcast, the more convinced he became that fear had never been its primary purpose. Terror could have been achieved far more efficiently by revealing everything. Instead, whoever controlled the transmission had exercised unusual restraint, almost as though they respected the audience enough to avoid unnecessary spectacle.
Omoshiro – "I agree. Whoever stands behind this wanted the world to ask questions rather than surrender to panic. they left humanity focused on Kanji, Enazumi and Akashi instead."
Akashi, meanwhile, approached one of the televisions with open curiosity, studying his own image reflected on the screen just before the broadcast returned to an ordinary morning news program. A quiet smile gradually appeared across his face, the situation itself felt strangely absurd. After spending most of his life existing completely outside ordinary society, discovering that millions of strangers had just watched him fight on live television struck him as unexpectedly amusing rather than alarming.
Akashi – "I honestly wasn't expecting my first appearance on television to involve punching someone through a mountain. I thought I'd at least have time to decide whether I looked presentable. It's a little disappointing, though. Whoever filmed that battle always chose my left side. I think my right profile looks better."
Tenka slowly turned toward him, the irritation visible across her face becoming almost impossible to suppress. She had just witnessed the greatest security failure in Federation X's history, watched an unknown organization hijack the communications infrastructure of an entire nation and realized that someone possessed surveillance capabilities beyond anything she considered technologically achievable. Faced with all of that, Akashi's greatest concern involved camera angles.
Tenka – "Your priorities continue to astonish me in ways I no longer believe are medically explainable. An unidentified organization has publicly revealed battles powerful enough to destabilize governments across the planet, and your immediate conclusion is to critique their cinematography."
Offering no attempt to defend himself because, from his perspective, there was nothing requiring defense. The mystery surrounding the broadcast interested him enormously, but worrying accomplished nothing. The unknown suited man remained unknown. The people responsible for the transmission remained unknown.
Far beyond Federation X, public reaction expanded with astonishing speed. Social media platforms became nearly unusable beneath the weight of millions of recordings captured directly from household televisions before the signal disappeared.
Universities organized emergency discussions debating whether the footage represented the most elaborate deception in human history or the first undeniable evidence that civilization had misunderstood its own reality. Governments urged calm while privately demanding explanations they themselves did not possess. Families gathered around kitchen tables arguing over whether what they had witnessed belonged to science, religion or something else. By nightfall, humanity remained deeply divided over what the broadcast meant, but one conclusion had already become impossible to avoid.
The world had spent centuries believing extraordinary individuals existed only in myths, legends and fiction. Whoever stood behind the crimson symbol had destroyed that illusion in less than thirty minutes, and no official statement issued afterward would ever be capable of restoring it.