Kyuroto stepped into the chamber, his presence warping the very air. Even at 1% of 1,000,000%, reality shifted subtly to accommodate his movement. Shadows clung to him like loyal servants, whispering threads of probability that revealed the hidden echoes of the past.
The room was silent, yet it hummed with residual energy of the erasure—a force designed to remove not just memory, but the very existence of the events that occurred here. Kyuroto knelt, placing his hand over a faint shimmer on the floor.
Images flickered.
His mother, Amane Kyoko, laughing softly in the morning sun.
His father, Mitsuyo Renzou, sharpening a blade with careful precision.
The room darkened… shadows twisted unnaturally… and a figure appeared behind them, a silhouette of pure intent to erase.
Kyuroto's eyes narrowed. The probability threads reacted violently, revealing the killer's first trace: meticulous, patient, and aware of the boundaries of outerversal power.
He whispered, almost to himself:
"So, you thought you could hide in the folds of erased time."
The shadows shifted, forming illusory walls and corridors to trap him. Every movement Kyuroto made was anticipated, as if the killer had mapped the threads of his very existence.
But Kyuroto was calm. Even at 1%, he was a maestro of probability. With a subtle motion of his hand, the threads folded the illusory walls back upon themselves. What was meant to trap him instead exposed more fragments of the truth.
A faint sound reached him—a whisper from the past.
"You cannot stop what is inevitable…"
Kyuroto smirked.
"I am the inevitable."
His katana glimmered faintly. He did not draw it fully, but the threads of probability wove around its edge, slicing through illusions, cutting the veil between memory and reality.
The chamber responded violently. Pieces of erased history—the flickering of light, shadows of objects, echoes of voices—coalesced into a single vision: a masked figure, standing over his parents, wielding a power designed to erase them from all existence.
Kyuroto stood, shadows wrapping around him. Even at a fraction of his true power, his mind and perception were beyond the killer's anticipation. He could feel the threads of the killer's strategy, the slight arrogance that thought hiding in erased time was enough.
"I will find you… and your name will be recorded across all timelines," Kyuroto said, voice calm but cold, carrying the weight of vengeance and inevitability.
The first fragment of the killer's identity had been uncovered. But Kyuroto knew: this was only the beginning.
Outside the chamber, the world remained unaware, unaware of the shadow moving silently to rewrite the past and unmask the one who dared erase it.
The hunt had begun in earnest.