The uneasy peace in the Elven Village clung to the air like mist over a stagnant pond. The torches along the walls flickered in the evening wind, and though the skies above were clear, a sense of dread gnawed at the hearts of the elves.
Tsukasa stood alone near the outskirts, the Drag Blazer resting against a stump beside him. The forest beyond loomed with a twisted, unnatural darkness, branches clawing at the night sky like the fingers of the damned. His gaze was distant, though his hand never strayed far from the Ride Booker at his hip.
Then — a faint rustle.
It came from the treeline.
His body stiffened. He knew that sound. It wasn't the wind. It wasn't a bird. It was something alive… and hostile.
Without a word, Tsukasa reached for the Ride Booker, snapping it open with a practiced motion. The metallic click echoed far louder than it should have in the heavy silence.
A figure burst from the shadows — one of the surviving dark elves, face twisted in hatred, eyes gleaming like a predator's in the dim light. A curved obsidian blade in hand, the creature lunged for the nearest sentry.
"Attack!" the elven guard cried, too late.
More shapes emerged from the forest's edge — half a dozen dark elves, their weapons catching the torchlight as they surged forward like a tide of shadows.
Tsukasa's eyes narrowed.
"Here we go again."
He drew a single card. The magenta gleam of its surface reflected the torchlight. On it, a single word in ancient characters: Decade.
He slid the card into the Ride Booker's slot. The device let out a sharp electronic chime as if responding to his resolve.
"Henshin."
In an instant, the world seemed to contract around him. The air grew heavy, the crackle of unseen energy arcing through the ground. From the Ride Booker, a burst of magenta light erupted outward, forming a shimmering ring of glyphs and light around him. The eldritch symbols, foreign and beautiful, rotated slowly, etching strange trails in the night air.
A cascade of light particles lifted from his body, forming shifting, rune-like patterns across his frame. His civilian clothing shattered away like glass, replaced by armor plates assembling themselves piece by piece.
Chest piece first. A dark black core with magenta streams of light running along its edges, humming with raw, alien energy. The plates locked into place with solid, mechanical clunks.
Gauntlets followed. Black with magenta accents, glowing faintly as small photon runes flickered along the surface. The air around his hands shimmered from the sudden surge of energy.
Then the helmet. A faceless magenta mask appeared first, then split into nine symmetrical panels, each locking into position around his head. The unmistakable vertical lines formed the visage of Kamen Rider Decade — an emissary of unknown power.
As the final panel snapped into place, his compound eyes ignited in a brilliant, unnatural green glow, cutting through the darkness like twin beacons.
A pulse of magenta energy burst outward from his frame, forcing the nearest dark elves to stumble back in shock. The strange runes around him vanished, leaving only the sickly glow of his armor and the unsettling hum of power in the air.
The transformation was complete.
"Kamen Rider Decade," an elf whispered in awe from behind the barricade.
Tsukasa's voice, now slightly altered by the helmet's filter, carried a cold finality.
"Your war's over."
The dark elves hesitated — then charged.
Tsukasa moved like a shadow. The Drag Blazer appeared in his grip, summoned from the dimensional void in a flash of red light. The weapon gleamed with a faint otherworldly sheen, humming as if hungry for battle.
He met the first attacker with a swift horizontal slash, cutting through the crude sword and striking the dark elf's chest in a shower of crimson mist. Without breaking stride, he pivoted, delivering a brutal knee to the next one, sending the figure crashing into a tree with a sickening crunch.
The battle was on.
The elves watched in awe and terror. They had fought with bows, blades, and elemental magic for centuries — but this… this was something else. A warrior clad in unknown armor, wielding a weapon of light and runes, moving like a force of nature.
One dark elf hurled a jagged spear — Tsukasa raised the Ride Booker in its blade form, deflecting it effortlessly. A quick flick of his wrist and the blade lashed out, cutting through two more foes before they could even scream.
He didn't fight like a man.
He fought like something forged from war itself.
Decade. The Destroyer. The Unknown.
As the last dark elf tried to flee, Tsukasa drew another card, sliding it into the Ride Booker. The device announced it with a synthetic voice:
"Final Attack Ride: D-D-D-Decade!"
The ground itself seemed to split as a massive magenta sigil burst into existence, towering behind him like a gate to another world. Tsukasa sprinted forward, leaping through it as the Rider Gate magnified his power, his foot enveloped in blinding energy.
The final enemy turned just in time to see a streak of light descending from above.
Impact.
A pulse of raw, unstoppable force obliterated the dark elf in a single, soundless burst of light. The ground cracked beneath them, the very air rippling from the blast.
Then silence.
Only the crackle of torches and the faint hum of magenta light remained.
Tsukasa straightened.
The armor hissed softly, the light around him dimming. The battle was over.
The elves emerged cautiously from behind their barricades. Some stared in silent awe, others crossed themselves in old, forgotten prayers. None spoke.
Because how could they?
They had seen something that defied every law of their world.