The Kraken tossed the Skull Rider to the ground. The body slammed into the dirt so hard it bounced, rolling away behind a pile of crates. As the monster strode out of the fog, Exo's eyes were fixed on that white, frozen face. A bright glow was emanating from deep within his chest.

"An interesting specimen," said the Kraken, wiping a splash of blood off of his hand. "But this fight was never his."

Exo's hands clenched to fists in the dirt. One hand, seemingly by accident, seized around the metal handle of a tool, a discarded piece of welding equipment, and he held it with a grip strong enough to warp the metal with his fingers.

"He was… he was not trash to be thrown aside…" said Exo, rising to his feet, feeling power flowing through his limbs. The white-hot glow filled his body from within, and his eyes flashed with violet. "He was a Rider!"

"And you've shown what that is worth," said the Kraken. He spat another bolt of flame at Exo, and the blast took him. The fire wrapped around his body, turning him to a blackened silhouette in the center of the inferno. The Kraken stared at his work, folding his arms dismissively at the pyre burning his mortal foe.

A great blast of force and pressure erupted from inside the explosion, scattering the roiling flames into motes of fading light. The Kraken had to cover his face with his hand, the pressure of the blastwave forcing him to brace himself against the ground.

Exo came out of the fire, clad in shining steel. He wore a breastplate like a knight out of a fairy tale, and heavy shoulders that swept up high towards the heavens. Violet strikes adorned him, and his eyes were a deep royal purple.

"I am Masked Rider Exo, Knight Form," Exo said, striding forwards purposefully towards the Kraken. The tool he held in his hand glowed brilliantly from within, and Exo clasped his hand tight on its handle. With a thought, it transformed into a long, broad sword with a purple blade and a curved, golden hilt. Blood-red letters in some ancient language ran along the golden spine of the blade, and with a twist of his grip, the blade slid out from within, adding another foot to its length. "Pray to what gods you have, and beg their mercy in hell."

"An impressive gesture," said the monster, his hand to his mouth. "But you battle against inevitability."

The Kraken spat fire, and the blast hit Exo square in the chest, enveloping him in flame. The Rider didn't break his stride, and the monster kept spitting, faster and faster. Storms of fire burst from the ground at every step, but the Rider would not slow down.

"Impossible…" the Kraken shouted, spitting incendiary death at his foe. "Nothing can survive this!"

The Rider was but five feet away. Surely not at this range… the Kraken spat one last time. Exo held up his arm and casually swatted it out of the air, the missile bursting harmlessly on his palm.

"N-no… no, this can't be…" said Kraken, taking a step back, his red eyes flashing with fear. "Please! You want my master? I'll tell you everything! Everything you want to know about-"

Exo's blade thrust into the Kraken's belly, skewering him like a speared fish. The monster twitched and writhed on the Rider's blade. Exo's unblinking eyes stared at him in his death throes.

"I have no heed for the words of dead men," he said, twisting the blade. The monster burst apart from within, one final explosion carrying it to the grave, and then there was nothing left.

Exo fell to his knees, his armor vanishing in a flash of golden light. His arms hung limp and sore at his side, the sword falling from his weary fingers. His breath was ragged and gasping, like a drowning man pulled from the water, but they were powerful breaths, working all the muscles of his core and the deep tissues of his diaphragm, filling his body and his blood with life.

He felt drained, hulled out like a carved pumpkin, an empty shell barely holding up his own weight. He had seen into the darkness inside of him, seen the power buried deep within that pit. He hadn't yet seen how deep that darkness went. Even now he could feel it beckoning him down and down, waves of darkness lapping at his ankles, an endless ocean promising such pearls to be found in its depths.

He hung his head against his chest, too tired to look at the battlefield but too weary even to close his eyes. The belt was still wrapped around his waist, and he saw his panting face staring back from within the shining metal. Then he saw something, something he had never seen before. Maybe it had never been there before now, or maybe it had always been there and he only know saw the significance.

Around the central gem of the belt were four stones, each of a different color. Red and blue, green and purple.

"That beetle…" Steve said, feeling a grim understanding settling onto his shoulders like a funeral shroud. "How much more did you know?"

There was no answer, not that he expected one. Damn spirit advisors, never around when you need them. Instead, he found an answer coming from within, and the realization made him leap to his feet.

"Skull Rider!" he shouted.

He looked around the bombed-out train yard, trying to see where the Kraken had thrown his body. Any other human would be dead, he thought, but if he was a rider… A spot of black in a pile of broken crates caught his eye and he rushed towards it, pulling aside splintered planks and smashed electronics. He seized his hands around the black thing, and pulled out half of a black helmet, the twin of the one that had come to him. Fresh blood was smeared inside.

Looking up, Steve saw more blood on the ground, a trail leading away down the maze of shipping crates. Tucking the helmet under his arm, he ran off down through the cargo containers, following the blood. At first it was plentiful, bloody smears upon the ground, handprints on the walls, but soon they were thinning out, and there would only be a few drops for every few feet of ground. There was barely enough to follow the trail.

But follow he did, and soon he reached the end. He found himself in the same open area where he had entered the train yard. There was no sign of the Skull Rider, no blood, no footprints, no scattered armor. His bike was gone, tire tracks leading far off into the distance. A fierce wind blew through the scrubland, scattering the signs of the other Rider's passage. Off in the distance, Steve thought he could hear the distant roar of an engine, but it faded from his hearing all too quickly.

Steve mounted his bike and began to ride. There were more out there, he could feel them. He was getting closer to their leader with every battle.