Kyuroto emerged from the chamber into the night of Neo-Tokyo-3, his presence bending the faint glow of neon and the shimmer of floating holograms. At 1% of his 1,000,000% power, even subtle movements caused threads of probability to ripple across reality, revealing the faint echoes of paths long erased.
He paused, closing his eyes. The threads responded to his mind like obedient servants, mapping every decision, every movement, every hidden corner where the killer might have left a trace.
"The one who erased my parents… thought they could hide in erased timelines," Kyuroto murmured.
The shadows coalesced around him into hundreds of micro-threads, each vibrating with the possibility of discovery. One thread glimmered brighter, a faint residue of the killer's outerversal presence.
Kyuroto followed it.
They moved across the city, but the threads led him beyond streets and skyscrapers.
The trail bent through time, weaving across childhood memories, alternate realities, and erased timelines.
Every misstep the killer made left a ripple, and even 1% of Kyuroto's power was enough to sense it.
He arrived at a derelict tower, floating unnaturally in the void between realities. The building had no address, no existence on any map—but the probability threads hummed insistently.
Kyuroto's hand hovered over his katana. Not fully drawn, but the threads of his power wrapped around it like living energy, sensitive to the tiniest vibration in probability.
Inside, he could feel it—the killer's presence, watching him, anticipating him, yet leaving slight deviations.
"You underestimated me," Kyuroto said, voice calm, each word threaded with certainty.
The walls of the tower shimmered, shifting between existence and erasure, but Kyuroto walked unflinchingly. Shadows bent around him, mapping the impossible pathways, revealing the hidden layers of the killer's concealment.
Finally, in the center of the top floor, a faint silhouette appeared—masked, cloaked, an aura of erased timelines and subtle authority.
Kyuroto's eyes glimmered. The threads screamed the killer's identity is close… but still hiding in paradoxical folds.
He smiled faintly, his voice a whisper carried across the fractal layers of reality:
"Soon… I will meet the one who dared erase my parents. And when I do, the threads will remember forever."
A subtle shift occurred in the shadows. The game had begun. Kyuroto's hunt across infinite timelines was now unstoppable—even at 1% of his full outerversal power.