Super God Academy: Kabuto

The void of the Emerald Galaxy was groaning—not a metaphor, but a fact. The spatial structure of this star system had been distorted to its limit under the immense mass pressure of the Earth Sovereigns; every spatial fold was emitting high-frequency vibrations—the final struggle of the laws of physics on the verge of collapse. The silvery-white Feathers of Time still drifted in the void, but their numbers were far fewer than before, like scattered snowflakes after a blizzard, falling helplessly and forlornly.

Lin Yu hovered before the rift, his hands hanging limply at his sides, the silvery-white light emanating from his fingertips almost invisible. His face was ashen, a trace of silver blood at the corner of his mouth—a sign of the depletion of his Time Source within him. His breathing was rapid and erratic, each breath seeming to exhaust all his strength. But his eyes—those eyes remained bright, calm, and burning with an inextinguishable light.

The serpent hovered opposite him, its massive body resembling a continent stretching across the void. A thin layer of silvery-white light covered its dark yellow rock armor—the traces of the residual time laws of the Feather of Time being slowly absorbed and transformed into its own mass. Its single eye burned with an earthy-yellow flame, a faint, almost triumphant excitement within it.

"How much longer can you hold on?" the serpent asked, its voice deep and resonant, like the movement of the earth's crust, like the growth of mountains. "Your time essence is almost depleted, your body is beginning to crumble, and your will—how many more attacks can it sustain you?"

Lin Yu did not answer. He was simply adjusting his breathing, gathering his strength, and waiting—waiting for the moment he had been waiting for.

The serpent seemed to sense something. The earthen-yellow flame in its single eye flickered, its massive body shrank slightly, and countless pairs of limbs opened simultaneously. The earthen-yellow light on its giant claws suddenly shone, weaving an impenetrable defensive net in the void.

But it was too late.

Lin Yu moved. His figure vanished from the void, not by teleportation, not by acceleration, but by a time jump. He leaped out of the current flow of time and entered a rift that belonged only to him, a rift where time was completely still. There, there was no sound, no light, no space, only himself and the colossal figure opposite him, locked by the laws of time.

The serpent's body froze in the cracks of time, like an ancient insect frozen in amber. Its countless pairs of appendages remained in a defensive posture, the earthy yellow light still lingered on its claws, and the flame in its single eye still maintained its flickering trajectory. Everything stood still at this moment—except for Lin Yu.

Lin Yu stood before the serpent, gazing at this being larger than the stars, a slow smile curving his lips. There was no fear, no tension in that smile, only a faint, almost triumphant, sense of accomplishment.

"Instant Kill: Time Stack".

His voice was very soft, as soft as a feather falling on water. But that voice echoed, amplified, and resonated in the cracks of time, finally transforming into a thunderous declaration.

A silvery-white light erupted from his body. It wasn't the falling of the Feather of Time, but an explosion of the very essence of time—the pitiful amount of time essence he had brought back from the closed loop of time, which he ignited all at once. The silvery-white flames burned around him, illuminating the cracks in time as if it were daytime. The temperature of those flames wasn't heat, but time itself burning—the past, present, and future converging, colliding, and annihilating at the same point.

Lin Yu threw a punch.

A punch. Not aimed at the serpent's body, but at the time before it—cracking a fissure in that frozen moment. The crack spread, and time began to flow, but the flow was restricted to an extreme speed, so slow that even the serpent's thoughts couldn't keep up.

The second punch. It slammed into the depths of the crack, tearing a gap in it. Deep within that gap lay the serpent's timeline—every trace of its existence, recorded by time, from its birth to the present. Lin Yu's fist landed on that timeline, not attacking the serpent's present, but its past.

The third punch. The fourth punch. The fifth punch.

Lin Yu's fists rained down like a storm, each punch striking the serpent's timeline, each rewriting its past. Not erasing, not modifying, but layering—compressing the damage of countless attacks into a single, explosive burst. This was the ultimate attack method he had comprehended from the closed loop of time. It required no overwhelming force, no explosive energy; it only required—making time itself a weapon.

The hundredth punch. The thousandth punch. The ten thousandth punch.

Lin Yu didn't know how many punches he had thrown. He only knew that his fists were no longer fists, but silvery-white light, fragments of time, the embodiment of all the insights, pain, and obsessions he had brought back from the closed loop of time. With each punch, a silvery-white light was imprinted on the serpent's timeline. That light was not damage, but memory—memories of countless Lin Yus fighting countless serpents across countless worldlines. Those memories overlapped, transforming into an unbearable pressure, pressing down on the serpent's very existence.

In the serpent's single eye, cracks finally appeared in the yellowish-brown flame.

It wasn't shattered, but crushed by time itself. In the cracks of time, under the combined force of countless punches, the serpent's body began to tremble, and its ever-flowing dark yellow rock armor began to crack. Countless silvery-white rays of light seeped out from the cracks, traces of the laws of time burning within its body.

The serpent opened its enormous jaws. Not to roar, but to retreat.

A yellowish-brown light erupted from its mouth; it wasn't an attack, but a summons. Deep within the rift, countless ancient behemoths, hundreds of times larger than the colossi, simultaneously ceased their movements. They sensed their chieftain's will—retreat. Not a rout, but a strategic retreat.

The serpent's body began to retreat deeper into the crevice, a retreat that was not chaotic, but orderly. Countless pairs of appendages exerted force simultaneously, pushing its mountain-like body into the crevice. Its single eye remained fixed on Lin Yu, and something flickered faintly within the earthen-yellow flames—not anger, not fear, but a complex emotion that even it itself could not fully comprehend.

"You've won this battle." The serpent's voice came from the depths of the crevice, deep and resonant, yet carrying a rare, sigh-like quality. "But the war is not over yet."

Lin Yu remained silent. He simply hovered in the void, watching the enormous figure of the serpent disappear into the depths of the rift, watching the ancient behemoths retreat into the rift following their patriarch, watching the earthen-yellow light gradually dissipate. His hands hung limply, the silvery-white light at his fingertips completely extinguished, his face was ashen, and his body swayed precariously.

But he did not fall. Because he knew he could not fall.

He turned and looked in the direction of the Shenhe Ruins.

Aurora curtain.

Tsukasa Kadoya is in a more dangerous situation than Yu Lin.

It wasn't because his opponent was stronger, but because he had to face two at the same time. Kunxu's mental crushing power was like an invisible mountain, pressing down on his consciousness, constantly eroding his will, trying to make him "forget" why he was fighting. Youluo's poison attacks were like omnipresent undercurrents, attacking him from all angles, each attack enough to corrode space and erode life.

Several dark purple scratches marred Tsukasa's suit, marks left by Yura's arthropods. His camera—the magenta camera that had accompanied him through countless worlds—was covered in tiny cracks, scars inflicted by Kunxu's mental onslaught. A trickle of blood hung from the corner of his mouth, his breathing was rapid and erratic, and his hand—the one holding the camera—trembled slightly.

But he remained standing there, shielding the two emperors from the allied forces. Behind him, the aurora curtain continued to burn, separating the battlefield from the rift. Before him, Kunxu and Youluo were slowly approaching.

"How much longer can you hold on?" Youluo asked, her voice sharp yet drawn-out, tinged with a cat-and-mouse mockery. "Your stamina is exhausted, your strength is nearly depleted, and your will—can it sustain you for even a few more of our attacks?"

Tsukasa Kadoya didn't answer. He was simply adjusting his breathing, gathering his strength, and waiting—waiting for the moment he had been waiting for all along.

Kunxu seemed to sense something. His pair of deep blue, swirling eyes shifted slightly, landing on the Aurora Curtain—no, not the Aurora Curtain itself, but the other side of it. There, in the direction of the Emerald Galaxy, a silvery-white light was dissipating, and an earthy-yellow light was receding.

"Hui has been defeated." Kunxu's voice was calm as still water, yet it carried a complex emotion that even it could not fully comprehend. "That little fellow has won against Hui."

Youluo's smile froze. For the first time, genuine surprise appeared in her icy eyes. "Impossible," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief, "How could a serpent—"

"He's not dead," Kunxu interrupted her. "He's just severely injured. He retreated." It paused, its deep blue, swirling eyes returning to Kadoya Tsukasa. "That little guy paid a heavy price to defeat the Serpent. He's no longer able to fight. But he did it."

A slow smile crept onto Tsukasa Kadoya's lips. There was no smugness or mockery in that smile, only a gentle warmth, like that of an old friend reuniting.

"He was never a 'little guy'," Tsukasa Kadoya said, his voice as casual as if he were chatting. "He's Lin Yu. He's my friend."

He raised his camera, aimed it at Kunxu, and pressed the shutter. Click. The sound of the shutter echoed in the void. Then, he turned around and looked in the direction of the Emerald Galaxy. In that direction, deep within the endless sea of ​​stars, a silvery-white light was slowly dissipating, a figure was swaying precariously, and a pair of eyes were looking this way.

Two gazes met across the endless void at this moment.

Tsukasa Kadoya smiled. There was no mockery, no languor in that smile, only a pure warmth, like that of an old friend saying goodbye. "Alright," he said, his voice as soft as a feather falling on water.

He turned around, facing Kunxu and Youluo again. A crimson light shone on him; it wasn't a transformation, but rather—liberation. It was the power of countless "selves" he had accumulated across countless timelines, all converging into one in this moment.

"It's time to spend more time with you all."

A crimson light erupted from his body; it wasn't energy, but existence itself. It was the will, memories, and power of countless Tsukasa Kadoyas from countless timelines, burning simultaneously in this moment. His suit vanished in the light, replaced by crimson armor—Kamen Rider Decade, not the basic form, not the passion form, but—the final form.

That was his true form, one he had never shown in countless timelines. His armor was a deep magenta, his compound eyes shimmered with light that transcended time and space, and visible ripples of timelines surrounded him, as if he himself were the intersection of countless worlds.

Kunxu's pupils contracted slightly. Youluo's smile froze completely. They sensed that this "little insect" before them was no longer someone they could easily crush.

Tsukasa Kadoya raised his hand, palm up. Magenta light condensed in his palm, transforming into a sword—not the Card Box Sword he wielded, but a more ancient, purer sword, bearing witness to the destruction and rebirth of countless worlds.

"Come on," Tsukasa Kadoya said, his voice as calm as still water, "Round two."

Kunxu did not answer. It simply turned its massive body slowly, its three pairs of deep blue, swirling eyes staring at Kadoya Tsukasa, a genuine hint of seriousness finally appearing in its gaze.

Youluo didn't speak. She simply spread out her eight segments, and dark purple void toxins condensed into tiny droplets at the ends of the segments, each drop enough to corrode the core of a planet.

Three figures faced off before the crimson aurora curtain.

In the distance, towards the Emerald Galaxy, the silvery-white light had completely dissipated. But those eyes were still watching this side.