The shattered skyline of Neo-Tokyo-3 burned under the surreal light of collapsing multiverses. Buildings twisted into fractals, streets stretched into impossibilities, and neon signs flickered with colors that did not exist. Kyuroto Mitsuyo stood at the center, calm and composed, his katana resting lightly in his grip.
Across the distorted horizon, Mathro Liyuri revealed his true form — an entity beyond omnipotence, beyond transcendence, a being whose existence alone negated the concept of limits. The very air trembled with his authority.
Mathro's eyes, infinite mirrors reflecting countless realities, narrowed. With a swift motion, he drew his dagger — a weapon infused with authority beyond all hierarchy, capable of piercing not only bodies but the very structure of existence. He lunged at Kyuroto.
The strike was instantaneous. A shockwave erupted, a pulse that could have shattered entire multiverses. The dagger pierced through layers of reality, collapsing fragments of timelines, bending dimensions into impossibility. It should have killed Kyuroto Mitsuyo.
But it didn't.
Kyuroto remained standing, unaffected. Not a flinch, not a word, not even a flicker of shock crossed his face. His composure was absolute, serene like a calm ocean while the storm raged.
Mathro froze, disbelief washing over him. "Impossible… how can this be?" he whispered, his voice carrying across the void beyond fiction itself. He had unleashed his true full power, his ultimate form, and yet Kyuroto had endured — untouched, unyielding.
Explosions rippled outward, fracturing not just the physical world but every conceivable layer of reality. Entire fictional dimensions were caught in the blast, erased and rewritten in the chaos. Yet Kyuroto's figure remained, a single calm point in the eye of infinite annihilation.
Mathro's mind raced. He thought he had struck down his opponent, that victory was within reach. He had underestimated the depth of Kyuroto Mitsuyo. Without a word, Kyuroto read the battlefield, every probability thread, every paradoxical loop, and every potential strike.
He didn't mock. He didn't taunt. He simply stood, a living testament to the power of restraint and mastery.
Mathro, still gripping his dagger, realized his error too late. Kyuroto's aura began to shimmer, threads of infinity weaving around him, bending the explosion, folding it back into the void it came from. The dagger that had pierced through "beyond omnipotence" now trembled in his hand, ineffective against the calm eye of the storm that was Kyuroto Mitsuyo.
The battlefield, once a war of fire and destruction, froze in a moment of silent tension. Two beings beyond all hierarchy, beyond all concepts, faced each other: one, a force of raw ultimate power; the other, the unshakable calm of infinite mastery.
The next move would not be just a strike. It would be the definition of battle beyond reality itself.
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