The city of Kure stood like an industrial titan on the edge of the Seto Inland Sea, a complex web of shipyards, factories, and military installations pulsing with the rhythm of Japan’s naval might. It had long been a fortress of military pride—its streets alive with purpose and discipline, a city built to defend, not to yield. Today, however, Kure would learn that no fortress, no matter how impregnable, could withstand the wrath of a man who had long since abandoned any pretense of being human.

  Gyo hovered above the city.

  His Aura, Conquest, unfurled like a banner in the wind—dark and all-consuming. The atmosphere warped around him, the air growing thick and heavy with a sense of dread. It wasn’t the sky that quivered as he fell toward the earth. It was the city itself. The very foundation of Kure groaned as if recognizing the futility of its existence in the face of this unstoppable force.

  Gyo descended, his form cutting through the clouds with an ease that was nothing short of terrifying. His muscles, honed through years of battle, rippled beneath his skin as he landed. The shockwave of his arrival shook the ground, splintering concrete and toppling buildings as if they were toys. With every step he took, the earth beneath him cracked open, the streets buckling, the air turning thick with the sound of breaking bones.

  “Pathetic,” Gyo muttered under his breath. His voice was a low growl, but it carried the weight of a death sentence.

  Kure had no defenses against a man like him. No soldier, no weapon, no tactic could possibly comprehend the horror of what stood before them. As Gyo raised his head, his gray eyes—unwavering, calculating—locked onto the nearest military complex, a towering symbol of human arrogance. His Aura spread across the city like an invisible tide, washing over the streets, forcing every soul to their knees without a word.

  The first to react were the soldiers—helpless ants scurrying for their lives. They scrambled to form a perimeter, weapons raised, their trembling hands betraying their fear. Helicopters buzzed overhead, their blades slicing through the air with a futile attempt at control. A line of tanks rumbled toward him, their guns aimed squarely at his chest. For a moment, the noise of the city was drowned by the mechanical hum of war machines—each one a desperate, pathetic attempt to halt the inevitable.

  Gyo didn’t move at first. He only watched them, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. They didn’t understand. None of them ever did.

  With a snap of his fingers, the world around him began to warp.

  A tank aimed its cannon at his chest, but before it could fire, Gyo was upon it—too fast, too sudden. His fist collided with the armored beast, and the entire tank crumpled under the impact, its steel hull folding in like paper. The explosion that followed was insignificant—a muffled pop in comparison to the brutal force of his strike. Soldiers nearby were thrown backward as debris rained down on them, their screams swallowed by the roar of destruction.

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  Without hesitation, Gyo moved again. He ripped through the base’s defenses like a hot knife through butter. Gunfire rained down on him, bullets bouncing harmlessly off his skin. They couldn’t hurt him. They couldn’t even slow him. His movements were a blur, too fast for any human eye to follow, and in seconds, the entire perimeter was reduced to a smoldering ruin. Bodies, crushed beneath his fists, littered the battlefield, their lives snuffed out like candles in the wind.

  A helicopter swooped down, its guns trained on him. Gyo didn’t flinch. He only watched it—his gray eyes gleaming with a savage understanding. The moment the chopper got close enough, he leapt into the air, his massive frame cutting through the sky like a comet. His fist slammed into the chopper’s fuselage, and the rotors shattered into a thousand pieces, the aircraft spiraling out of control. It crashed into the ground with a sickening screech, sending up a cloud of smoke and fire.

  Another wave of soldiers arrived, this time in armored transports. They were more organized, more prepared. But it didn’t matter. Gyo was a storm that couldn’t be stopped, an unstoppable force that didn’t bend to the will of the world. He was the apex predator, and they were prey.

  With a roar, Gyo launched himself forward, smashing through the armored transports as though they were made of glass. His fists tore through metal and flesh alike, his Aura pressing down upon the soldiers like an unbearable weight. They collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, their minds overwhelmed by the sheer dominance of his presence. Those who didn’t fall into unconsciousness felt their limbs tremble, their wills shattering beneath the crushing power of his Aura.

  “Is this it?” Gyo’s voice rang out, harsh and commanding. “Is this all you can muster? You fight me with machines, with numbers. But none of you are strong enough. None of you were ever meant to win.”

  The sound of a distant siren reached his ears, followed by the thundering rumble of military jets soaring into the sky. They were too far to reach him—too far to stop him. But that didn’t matter to Gyo. He didn’t need to be stopped. The world simply had to yield.

  With a single leap, he propelled himself into the air, his immense body cutting through the sky like a missile. He reached the first of the jets before they could even react, grabbing one out of the air with ease, tearing through its wings with a savage twist. The aircraft plummeted to the ground in a fiery spiral, leaving only wreckage in its wake.

  “Pathetic. All of you are nothing but insects in the face of true power.”

  Gyo’s feet touched the ground once more, his Aura surging outward, rippling across the city like a shockwave. Buildings that had once stood tall and proud crumbled at his approach, their foundations cracking apart as if the city itself had no will to resist. The air hummed with the weight of his presence, and the very earth seemed to tremble beneath his might.

  As the sun dipped low on the horizon, Kure had become a wasteland—a charred ruin. Gyo stood in the midst of the destruction, his body untouched, his eyes scanning the remnants of the city with cold detachment. The military had been powerless to stop him. The city had fallen as easily as any before it.

  And as the last of the helicopters were sent scattering into the sky, retreating from the overwhelming force they had encountered, Gyo turned and walked away. He was not interested in victory. He was not interested in power. What mattered to him, what always mattered to him, was the act of dominance itself—the unrelenting, absolute assertion of control.

  “Let them rebuild,” he muttered to no one in particular, his voice carrying the weight of a declaration. “Let them try. It won’t matter. They can never stand against me.”

  As Gyo disappeared into the distance, Kure’s shattered ruins stood silent, a grim reminder of the price of weakness—a city forever marked by the arrival of the Unstoppable.

  And the world would never forget his name.