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Greg and Wormmon

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Chapter 87
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    • POV GranKuwagamon


    GranKuwagamon lounged atop the warehouse, his senses stretching across the city and beyond, scanning for any hint of Contessa's presence. He hoped she would take the bait and come to Brockton Bay to claim the Parahuman Worm book.

    The sound of distant sirens was the first sign that something was amiss. For a brief moment, he wondered if an Endbringer attack had been triggered.

    Greg climbed onto the roof, his face pale with urgency. "Ash Beast is heading this way," he reported.

    "Ash Beast?" GranKuwagamon's voice carried a note of disbelief. "I thought he was in Africa."

    "Not anymore," Greg confirmed grimly.

    GranKuwagamon pondered how Ash Beast could have possibly made it to Brockton Bay. According to the Parahuman Worm book, Khepri had needed both Doormaker and Trickster to transport Ash Beast into the battle against Scion. Doormaker alone couldn't manage it, as his portals were vulnerable to the extreme heat generated by Ash Beast's flames.

    The realization struck GranKuwagamon like a thunderclap. This had Contessa's fingerprints all over it.

    Greg broke the tense silence. "What's the plan?"

    GranKuwagamon considered the situation carefully. It was undoubtedly a trap, but allowing an S-Class threat like Ash Beast to torch the city wasn't an option.

    "We take down Ash Beast," GranKuwagamon declared, his voice filled with resolve.

    Greg nodded, already turning to leave. "I'll grab my costume."

    ----

    GranKuwagamon and Greg watched from above as Ash Beast strode across the ocean, his flames burning so intensely that even the waves couldn't extinguish them.

    GranKuwagamon unleashed an attack of pure darkness, but the effort only seemed to fuel Ash Beast's fiery aura, intensifying the inferno. A follow-up blast of high-pressure wind fared no better.

    Greg tried striking with his lightning powers, but Ash Beast shrugged it off without a scratch.

    GranKuwagamon couldn't help but be impressed. S-Rank threats like Ash Beast were rare, and most were eliminated within days. Yet Ash Beast had defied the combined might of entire countries and countless parahumans for decades, continuing his destructive rampage unchecked.

    "Zone Black Hole," GranKuwagamon declared, summoning a massive sphere of darkness and hurling it toward Ash Beast.

    The attack disintegrated upon contact, blown away like dust in the wind. Ash Beast kept moving forward, unrelenting.

    "Catastrophe!" GranKuwagamon roared, flapping his wings to unleash a volley of explosive beams of light.

    The beams fizzled harmlessly as they reached Ash Beast, unable to pierce his fiery defense.

    GranKuwagamon hesitated, his tone grim. "Oh, this is bad…"

    "Yup, we're screwed," Greg replied, deadpan.

    ----

    POV Miss Militia.

    The Parahuman capes gathered outside the PRT building.

    Miss Militia stood at the head of the gathering, her gaze sweeping across the assembled capes. The Protectorate was well represented: Armsmaster, Battery, Assault, and Velocity.

    The other heroes, Chubster, Dovetail, Weather Girl and Triumph, stood in a loose formation.

    To her left, New Wave formed a colorful line, Brandish, Photon Lady, and Manpower flanking their children—Laserdream, Shielder, and Glory Girl—who stood ready and resolute.

    On the opposite side, the Undersiders had taken their place. Grue, Skitter, Tattletale, Regent, Canary, and a new villainous Doom Beam.


    The surprise attendance of the Dragon Slayers turned heads as three of Dragon's stolen Aircraft landed in the area.

    Master and Bait made a dramatic entrance, arriving late to the gathering. Bait, an enormous insect-like creature the size of a bus, loomed over the area with an unsettling presence. The clicking of its massive pincers reverberated through the air, a sharp, grating sound that made even the most seasoned heroes shift uncomfortably.

    Miss Militia cleared her throat, her voice firm as it rose above the scattered murmurs. "I'm calling a truce. This isn't a typical assembly, but desperate times demand cooperation. We face a greater threat than any one of us can handle alone—Ash Beast."

    The room fell silent for a moment before Master spoke, his voice cutting through the tension. "Where's Clockblocker? Or the other Wards?"

    Battery frowned. "Why are you asking?"

    Master gestured impatiently. "Clockblocker's power could be vital. He can freeze objects in time, which might slow Ash Beast long enough for us to get a proper strategy in place."

    Battery crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "You're suggesting we send a teenager to face an S-class threat?"

    Master shrugged. "He's a hero, isn't he? If you're worried about his safety, we can protect him. But Ash Beast's ability to convert matter into pure energy is a cheat-like power. Nothing has worked so far—not Bait's wind and darkness attacks, not my lightning."

    Tattletale smirked, leaning back with a look of smug amusement. "Oh, there are powers that can counter Ash Beast. Canary or Regent might be able to control him. Grue's darkness could smother his abilities."

    Master raised a hand as if in agreement. "Exactly what I was about to suggest—"

    "You lying sack of crap!" Tattletale interrupted, her voice sharp. "Stop trying to steal my thunder!"

    Bait shifted uncomfortably. "If none of this works, can we call for reinforcements? Are more PRT heroes coming to help?"

    Miss Militia's expression darkened. "No. The city is filled with your darkness. The heroes would risk going blind. This means we are cut off from external support."

    Bait tilted their head, mandibles clicking in thought. "That's because of my presence. If I leave, will reinforcements come?"

    Miss Militia shook her head. "Most likely not."

    Skitter spoke, her voice calm but laced with bitterness. "Of course we're on our own."

    Doom Beam cracked her knuckles, a manic grin spreading across her face. "Then let me take a crack at Ash Beast. My sick lasers will tear him apart."

    Grue groaned. "No, they won't, and you are not getting near the S-Rank threat if I have anything to say about it."

    Doom Beam shrugged dramatically. "Tch, you ruin all my fun."

    Canary raised a hand hesitantly. "If Doom Beam stays far enough away, what's the harm?"

    Doom Beam grinned. "Yeah, what she said. What's the harm?"

    Grue shot them both an exasperated look. "I swear, I should put you on a leash."

    Regent smirked. "Kinky."

    Grue slapped Regent on the back of the head.

    Armsmaster, visibly ignoring the banter, turned back to the group. "If Clockblocker's power might help, we should consider bringing him in."

    Battery's jaw tightened. "I'm still against it."

    Assault spoke up, uncharacteristically serious. "He's a hero. His powers are useful, and we can keep him safe."

    Sere interjected, his tone calm. "Our first priority should be evacuating the citizens. Ash Beast moves slowly, but he's already on land."

    Armsmaster nodded grimly. "If he reaches a gas line, the destruction could be catastrophic."

    Miss Militia raised a hand, commanding silence once again. "Let's focus on forming a plan. We don't have time to waste."

    Brandish's voice was sharp with bitterness. "Tell me, Master, are you planning to kidnap my other daughter too?"

    Photon Mom placed a steadying hand on her sister's shoulder. "Carol, this isn't the time."

    Master's response was cutting, his tone cold. "If you're looking for someone to blame, maybe you should start with yourself. Panacea wouldn't have run off in shame if you'd shown her some compassion. Maybe if you gave her a little more care, she wouldn't be so broken."

    Brandish's composure shattered, her voice rising. "You bastard! Where is my daughter?!"

    Tattletale smirked from her corner. "At least Panacea didn't go full Nilbog. The girl's got issues."

    Bait groaned. "I'll pay a million bucks if someone can make Tattletale shut up."

    Regent raised a hand lazily. "Not me. Last time I tried, I got kicked in the nuts."

    Doom Beam snickered. "Kinky."

    "This is my life now," Grue buried his face in his hands. "I hate all of you so much right now."

    Miss Militia slammed her hand on the table. "Enough!"

    Brandish wasn't done, though. She turned back to the group, her fury spilling over. "No! If we stay silent, this problem will only get worse. Master and Bait are untouchable, operating above the law! He took my daughter away, blinded and killed criminals. Everyone thinks he's helping. Except they are a pair of violent vigilantes that disregards the law. Someone has to hold them accountable!"

    Tattletale leaned forward, grinning like a cat who'd caught a canary. "Accountability? That's rich. Ever wonder what kind of future your 'innocent' daughter Amy would've had?"

    Triumph frowned, stepping in quickly. "Tattletale, enough. It's over."

    Bait nodded in agreement. "We gain nothing by antagonizing New Wave right now. We need to focus on the task at hand."

    Master turned to Tattletale, his voice low. "Please, let it go."

    Tattletale shrugged with mock innocence. "Fine. I won't share the devastating truth." Her sing-song tone turned razor-sharp. "Congratulations—you were right about Amy."

    Brandish's face paled as she sank to her knees.

    Saint, watching the scene with obvious impatience, clapped his hands together. "Can we move this along? At this rate, Ash Beast will have turned the entire city to ash before we even come up with a plan."

    Miss Militia inhaled deeply, willing the tension in the room to dissipate. "Let's focus. We need to discuss how we're going to handle Ash Beast. Now."

    ----

    POV Skitter.

    Skitter was babysitting Doom Beam alongside Tattletale.

    Watching the Ash Beast stride through a building was surreal. Cinder blocks melted into slag, wood burst into flames, and everything in its path was obliterated. The fire spread rapidly, jumping to nearby buildings.

    A group of teenagers stood nearby, recording the chaos on their cell phones. Some were even edging closer to the destruction.

    Skitter, sensing the danger, sent her swarm toward them and called out, "You need to evacuate."

    The teenagers jeered in response. "Screw you, bug lady!" one shouted. Another added, "Go back to your hive!"

    As Ash Beast drew nearer, the heat began to ripple through Skitter's swarm, warning her of the imminent danger.

    She acted quickly, directing her swarm to harass the teens. Stinging insects and biting pests swarmed them, sending the group screaming and scattering in panic.

    Tattletale retreated further back with Doom Beam in tow, a smirk on her face. "You should've let them fry," she said casually. "Darwin's law, survival of the fittest."

    "It wouldn't have been right," Skitter replied curtly.

    At that moment, Doom Beam fired a laser directly at Ash Beast. The beam struck true but fizzled out, seemingly consumed by the creature.

    To Skitter's frustration, Ash Beast turned toward them, its fiery form growing ever closer.

    Through her swarm, Skitter noticed Bitch's pack of dogs approaching. The monstrous animals carried Bitch, Canary, Regent, and Grue into the fray.

    Canary dismounted, stepping toward Ash Beast with a calm yet desperate plea. "Please, stop!" she called out.

    Ash Beast gave no response, continuing its relentless march forward.

    Regent extended his power toward the S-Class threat, attempting to take control, but the distance was too great for him to get a proper grip.

    Grue unleashed a thick cloud of darkness, enveloping Ash Beast in a choking shroud. For a moment, it seemed to have an effect—the smoke lingered, refusing to burn away—but AshBeast's advance didn't falter.

    Bitch's dogs retreated, carrying Bitch, Grue, Regent, and Canary to safety.

    Assault and Battery began circling Ash Beast, dragging a length of chain-link fence behind them in an improvised barrier.

    Miss Militia arrived with Clockblocker on a motorcycle. After assessing the situation, Clockblocker touched the fence. Instantly, the chain-link was frozen in time.

    Ash Beast attempted to advance but couldn't cross the barrier. Frustrated, it retreated and moved toward another part of the fence. For the moment, the impromptu blockade was holding.

    Eight minutes later, the fence began to melt under Ash Beast's intense heat.

    Tattletale observed the situation and muttered, "Clockblocker's power to stop time has an unpredictable duration. Maybe we can find a way to redirect Ash Beast instead?"

    Through her swarm, Skitter overheard a conversation between Grue and Bait.

    "If we combine my wind with your power," Bait suggested, "we could move Ash Beast somewhere else."

    Grue sounded doubtful. "It won't last long enough."

    "Then we'll need a lot of smoke clouds," Bait insisted.

    Master, who had joined the discussion, chimed in. "Are we sending Ash Beast to Africa?"

    Bait shook his head. "We are sending Ash Beast to space. If we send him into space, his powers won't work there. We could finally end Ash Beast for good."

    Grue considered it for a moment before nodding. "I like that plan."

    "Good," Master said. "I'll spread the word and buy us some time."

    Grue began producing thick smoke clouds, while Bait manipulated the wind, gathering and compressing the smoke clouds into a dense sphere. Together, they worked to set the plan into motion.

    The battle plan left no room for Skitter's direct involvement, and as Bitch, Canary, and Regent regrouped with the others, the question arose. What should they do next?

    Skitter expanded her swarm, surveying the area. Ash Beast's flames were spreading, igniting other fires. It was startling to see how many people had been left behind.

    "We should focus on saving the civilians," Skitter urged.

    Regent frowned. "I didn't sign up to play hero. Besides, my powers aren't exactly rescue-friendly."

    Doom Beam shrugged. "I'm just here to shoot things, honestly."

    Bitch only grunted in response.

    Canary spoke up. "We should help. People need us."

    Tattletale nodded. "Skitter's right. Sitting around isn't doing us any good. Plus, rescuing people earns us goodwill—and we could use some brownie points right now."

    Reluctantly, the Undersiders sprang into action, focusing on evacuating civilians.

    Skitter directed her swarm to locate individuals still trapped or in danger, guiding the group to those left behind in the flames.

    Tattletale analyzed the unfolding chaos, providing insights and peppering the effort with her trademark snark.

    Bitch used her dogs to ferry people out of danger zones.

    At one point, they encountered an elderly person refusing to leave their home. Canary used her voice to gently persuade them to evacuate.

    Doom Beam proved surprisingly resourceful. Her lasers weren't just for offense; she crafted shields, barriers, and even makeshift tools like swords and shovels. When Bitch's dogs couldn't budge a piece of debris, Doom Beam cut it apart and cleared the path using a glowing, light-based shovel.

    "Doom Beam's basically a knockoff Green Lantern," Regent quipped.

    The team continued their efforts, reuniting children with parents, freeing people trapped in buildings, and even transporting injured individuals to nearby hospitals.

    Through her swarm, Skitter watched as Bait controlled an enormous smoke sphere, twice his own size, using his wind manipulation to contain Grue's dark smoke and ensure none of it escaped.

    "Rasengan!" Bait shouted dramatically, launching himself toward Ash Beast.

    With a surge of speed, Bait slammed the massive smoke sphere into the S-class threat. The impact engulfed Ash Beast entirely, swallowing the Ash Beast into the giant smoke sphere.

    Bait carried the smoke sphere containing Ash Beast into the air, ascending like a rocket.

    Above, the Dragon Slayers hovered in their Dragon Aircraft, weapons trained on Bait. Skitter barely had time to process the sight before they opened fire, unleashing missiles and gunfire.

    The explosion struck both Bait and the smoke sphere, Ash Beast was unleashed with flames erupting violently. Skitter stared in horror as she saw pieces of Bait's limbs blown away by Ash Beast.

    Despite the damage, Bait gritted through it, manipulating the wind to recontain Ash Beast within the swirling cloud of smoke. With a desperate growl, he bit into the smoky mass and roared, "Grand Darkness!"

    Spinning his body like a vortex, Bait spiraled into the sky, carrying Ash Beast higher and higher.

    As he ascended, the flames of Ash Beast broke free of the smoke sphere, trailing behind in bursts of fiery chaos.

    Skitter watched helplessly as Bait climbed further and further, disappearing into the sky, taking Ash Beast with him.

    ----

    POV GranKuwagamon

    GranKuwagamon carried Ash Beast into the depths of space, his massive form spinning as the energy of Grand Darkness faded. With one final, mighty effort, he tossed Ash Beast far beyond the influence of the shards.

    In the vacuum of space, Ash Beast's blazing form unraveled, revealing the gray, humanoid figure at its core. It disintegrated into dust, scattering as ashes among the stars.

    Ash Beast has been killed.

    GranKuwagamon, however, was left battered and broken. Half of his limbs were gone, chunks of his stomach missing, and one of his massive wings torn away. He had no energy left to sustain flight.

    Pain wracked his entire being, nearly unbearable.

    'Bait, are you okay?' Greg's voice echoed in his mind, reaching him through their telepathic link.

    'Catch me when I fall,' GranKuwagamon replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

    His body gave out, and he began plummeting back toward Earth. As he descended, GranKuwagamon closed his eyes, surrendering to the pull of gravity.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 88
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Greg.

    Greg was with the Protectorate Heroes, New Wave and other heroes.

    Greg went toward Miss Militia and said, "Bait is falling to the Earth! Someone needs to catch him or he will crash!"

    Miss Militia turned to New Wave, her expression tense. "Can anyone intercept Bait before he falls to his death?"

    Glory Girl crossed her arms, her tone dismissive. "I don't want to save him."

    The rest of New Wave shifted uncomfortably, but none volunteered.

    Greg's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as he bit back the searing frustration that bubbled inside him. He looked directly at New Wave, barely containing his anger. He couldn't afford to let them walk away from this.

    Before he could speak again, Chubster and Dovetail stepped forward.

    "Don't worry, kid," Chubster said firmly. "We'll catch him before it's too late."

    Dovetail nodded, lifting Chubster as they ascended into the sky.

    ----

    POV Chubster.

    Dovetail soared high into the sky, carrying the unmovable, indomitable Chubster in her grasp.

    He remained utterly still, a strategy that made his durability skyrocket, turning him into an immovable bulwark. Around him, Dovetail's power created layers upon layers of translucent balloons, each one adding a cushion of protection as they prepared for the impossible: catching Bait, who was hurtling toward Earth like a blazing meteor.

    Bait, the insect the size of a school bus, was falling fast—his body battered and broken from Ash Beast. The atmosphere itself seemed to scream in protest at his descent, flames licking at his form as he plummeted.

    Dovetail glanced at Chubster, her voice strained as she asked, "Are you sure you can do this?"

    Chubster didn't hesitate. His grin was wide, unshakable, and full of grit. "Chubster can do anything!"

    The words were a declaration of pure, unyielding confidence.

    Bait hit like a comet, slamming into Chubster with unimaginable force. The impact was earth-shaking, a thunderous explosion that rippled through the sky. Dovetail's balloons popped one after another, unable to withstand the sheer power of the collision.

    But Chubster held firm. His arms wrapped around Bait like a vice, clinging to him with the same stubborn determination that had carried him through countless fights—and that one time he got hit by a train.

    The descent wasn't over. Dovetail's quick thinking kicked in as she conjured more balloons, cushioning their fall inch by inch. The air itself seemed to aid their mission, the wind howling as if cheering them on.

    For a moment, Bait's cracked, insectoid eyes flickered open. He saw Chubster, the unlikely hero, holding him steady.

    A powerful blast of wind slowed them down.

    With a final crash, they hit the ground like a meteor, sending debris flying in every direction. Dust and dirt filled the air, the tremor shaking buildings miles away.

    Silence followed. Then, from the rubble, Chubster squirmed his way out from under Bait's massive body. He groaned as he stood, every muscle aching, his form battered but unbroken.

    Dovetail landed beside him, helping him to his feet. "How do you feel?" she asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

    Chubster winced, then grinned. "Awesome."

    Chubster dad lore was going to be crazy.

    ----

    POV Saint.

    Saint sat in the cockpit of his Dragon Aircraft, flanked by Dobrynja and Mags piloting their own identical machines, the trio cutting through the skies like avenging specters. Below, the chaos of battle still smoldered, and now Bait, the insectoid titan, lay broken and crumpled in the rubble.

    Saint's voice crackled through the intercom. "We move now. Finish this."

    The aircraft roared forward, cutting through the smoke-choked air, their sights locked on the fallen Digimon. But as they approached, a shimmering black swarm erupted from the city below, rising like an unnatural storm. The cloud of insects twisted and writhed, shaping into the grim visage of a face—a warning, terrible and primal.

    A voice thundered from the swarm, reverberating through their cockpits. "Don't you dare attack him."

    Saint sneered and tightened his grip on the controls. "You can't stop us!"

    Before the last syllable left his lips, a beam of light tore across the horizon, a searing beam that pierced Dobrynja's aircraft. The machine exploded in a flash of fire and metal, debris raining down like a burning omen.

    The swarm's voice turned cold. "We will end you."

    Saint and Mags veered hard, their engines screaming in protest as they dodged the expanding swarm. The insects surged toward Mags, enveloping her craft in a living shroud. Desperate, she unleashed a barrage of bullets and energy blasts, but the swarm consumed them, relentless and unyielding.

    A second beam of light streaked through the sky, slicing cleanly through Mags' Dragon Aircraft. The explosion painted the clouds red as Saint watched in growing dread. He traced the origin of the attack, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the Undersiders charging through the city below, riding grotesquely mutated dogs.

    And at the center of it all stood Doom Beam, perched on her monstrous steed, striking a triumphant pose.

    Saint banked hard to dodge the next beam, but the swarm wasn't finished. It turned its fury toward him, battering his craft with millions of insects that coated his sensors and obscured his vision. He fired blindly at the writhing mass, the aircraft's guns roaring, but it was no use.

    Another beam of light slashed through the sky, this one grazing Saint's wing. His craft shuddered violently. His instruments blinked warnings. He tracked the beam's impossible trajectory—it had punched through two buildings before clipping him.

    His stomach sank. They're tracking me through the swarm. Skitter… she's feeding Doom Beam the coordinates.

    Saint gritted his teeth and pushed the engines to their limits, racing toward Bait's motionless form. If he was going to finish the job, he had to do it now.

    As he closed the distance, his path was blocked. Standing defiantly before Bait's massive body was Master—wreathed in crackling arcs of electricity, his expression unreadable beneath his mask.

    Saint fired everything he had—missiles and bullets screamed through the air. But Greg raised his hand, the electricity coiling into a shield that vaporized the projectiles in a cascade of sparks.

    Saint cursed under his breath and pushed his craft into a desperate dive. He rammed the Dragon Aircraft into Master, the impact shaking the earth as the machine slammed into the electric field. Master's hands dug into the aircraft's hull, sparks flying as he slowed its momentum with brute force, his feet grinding into the rubble.

    Saint leaped from the cockpit, landing mere feet from Bait's prone form. He drew his last weapon—a bomb.

    "Impressive," Saint said, his voice low and calculating. "Where did you get the Tinkertech?"

    Master didn't flinch. "The Super Armor? Picked it up from a post-apocalyptic Earth."

    Saint smirked, then hurled the Anti-Digimon Bomb. "Goodbye."

    The device arced through the air, humming with deadly promise.

    But in that instant, Bait stirred. His remaining pincer shot out, striking Master and shoving him clear of the blast. The bomb detonated in a blinding flash, obliterating everything in its radius. When the dust cleared, the street was gone—a perfectly smooth, circular crater was all that remained.

    Bait was dead.

    ----

    POV Skitter.

    Bait was dead.

    Skitter felt her swarm buzzing with anger and desperation.

    Master strode through the battlefield, lightning crackling ominously around him. He stopped before Saint, who was slumped on the ground. Saint attempted to speak, but his words were cut off as arcs of electricity danced across his body. With a single, deafening crack, Saint collapsed, lifeless.

    Moments later, the air shimmered with the unmistakable glow of a mass teleportation. A cavalry of heroes arrived, Strider's handiwork bringing them en masse to the scene. At the forefront was Alexandria.

    Alexandria marched straight to Master, her expression stern. "Master, the vigilante," she said, her tone unyielding. "You're under arrest."

    Instead of responding with resistance, Master pulled out a folded poster. He unfolded it, revealing an image of the Triumvirate. "Before we go toe-to-toe, could you sign this?" he asked, holding out a pen. "We've already got Eidolon and Legend. You're the last one we need."

    Alexandria said, "I am under the impression that you hate us."

    Master shrugged. "Bait hated you. He saw you as foolish martyrs—or maybe abusive parents. He got this poster intending to sell it after your downfall, thinking it would be worth a fortune. But he changed his mind after... everything."

    "I'm surprised Bait respected us enough to care," Alexandria said, her tone edged with skepticism.

    "Would you respect an abusive parent?" Master asked.

    Alexandria remained stoic. "And what's the point of this now? Bait is dead. The poster's value died with him."

    "Isn't this normal for a villain and vigilante to barter before we fight?" Master replied. "So, are you going to sign it, or not?"

    Alexandria moved closer, grabbed the pen, and signed the poster.

    After a tense pause, Alexandria stepped forward, snatched the pen, and signed her name with sharp, deliberate strokes.

    Master admired her signature for a moment. "And what exactly are the charges?"

    "Too many to count," Alexandria replied, her patience thinning.

    "Fair enough," Master said with a smirk. "But you made one mistake—bringing all these heroes with you." He turned his gaze to the gathered Protectorate members. "Tell me, noble heroes, do you want to know the truth? Like, say, where do the Case 53s come from? The origins of parahuman powers? Or perhaps information about the end of the world?"

    Skitter could sense the tension radiating from Alexandria, her clenched fists betraying her desire to strike him.

    ----

    POV Contessa.

    The portal shimmered open in the dimly lit backroom of Whole Foods. Out stepped Contessa, her movements precise and deliberate. She didn't hesitate, her gaze sweeping over the shelves and crates until it landed on her target: a large wooden crate of apples stacked neatly by the far wall.

    Reaching into her coat, Contessa withdrew a sleek metal syringe, its contents a transparent liquid laced with quick-acting, painless modified harvester ant poison.

    She approached the crate and opened a container. Her hand brushed over the smooth skin of the apples until she found the one she sought—a plump, red fruit destined to seal Director Tagg's fate.

    Contessa picked up the apple, then pierced the apple's side with the syringe and injected the poison into its core. The apple gave no outward sign of tampering, its pristine surface unchanged. Satisfied, she placed it back among its identical brethren, the poisoned fruit indistinguishable from the rest.

    Her thoughts ahead, tracing the chain of events her actions would set in motion. Tomorrow, a PRT agent would stop by Whole Foods, selecting a group of apples for a supply run. Among the apples they brought back to headquarters, the poisoned one would find its way into the communal kitchen.

    By mid-afternoon, Director Tagg would select the very fruit Contessa had prepared. He would bite into it without hesitation. Minutes later, he would slump over at his desk, his death swift and without suffering.

    The aftermath was accounted for as well. The PRT will blame the Undersiders. With the type of poison used, it would be obviously their fault.

    Battery would use the ensuing chaos to retrieve a book hidden in Tagg's office. That book, filled with future information, would be then sent to Cauldron.

    The moment Contessa placed the poisoned apple back in the crate, a portal suddenly flared open, bathing the backroom of Whole Foods in a cold, unnatural light.

    A teenage girl holding what appeared to be a toy gun stepped out of the portal. Three other Digimon accompany her. A pink and tan metal sphere followed them.



    Contessa's voice was sharp and immediate: "Door me."

    A portal sprang to life beneath her, but as she fell, something went wrong. Instead of passing through to safety, she found herself suspended midair, caught in an invisible grip.

    Contessa turned to her power for answers. The result was frustratingly clear, the Telekinetic Field detected. The culprit was the A.I., Tranquility. The trap had been laid, and escape was not an option.

    Before she could react further, a crackling bolt of lightning slammed into her chest. Jellymon hovered nearby, her mischievous grin lighting up the space as the electric shock rippled through Contessa's body.

    Angoramon followed up with a thunderous punch, his massive fist driving into her face with force that rattled even her calculated calm.

    Before she could recover, Gammamon latched onto her wrist in a vice-like grip, his small but powerful arms locking her in place. Despite her entrapment in the telekinetic field, the Digimon weren't taking any chances.

    Zoe fired at the Doormaker portal. The shimmering gateway shattered into fragments of energy, scattering into nothingness.

    "It's over, Contessa," Zoe declared, her voice unwavering. "You walked right into our trap."

    Contessa's mind raced. She needed an out. "How?" she demanded, her tone a mix of frustration and disbelief.

    Zoe stepped forward, her confidence growing. "Your power's Achilles' heel is simple: it doesn't account for threats that come from space or different dimensions. You couldn't predict this."

    Contessa reached for her path, desperately searching for a way to escape. But no matter how many threads of probability she explored, they all ended in failure.

    Zoe wasn't like Master or Bait; she was something entirely different. Her Digimon, each capable of reaching their Mega forms, were forces of nature, and Tranquility's Telekinesis Field made physical escape impossible.

    Zoe adjusted the dial on her toy gun, the faint hum of power emanating from it. She fired once more, a strange pulse of energy hitting Contessa square in the chest.

    The effect was immediate and startling. Time itself seemed to have stopped for Contessa, her form now resembling a paused image on a screen.

    ----

    POV Alexandria.

    Alexandria had to control the narrative.

    If she lashed out, she'd only deepen the doubts swirling around her. Master was aiming to sow discord among the heroes, to weaponize the secrets of Cauldron and turn them against one another.

    Gully, a Case 53, stepped forward, her voice trembling with fury. "Tell me! Who did this to me?"

    Alexandria raised a hand to stop the rising murmurs among the heroes. Her voice rang out, calm and commanding. "I'll tell you the truth." She paused, drawing strength from the weight of her next words. "When I was a child, I was gravely ill, spending most of my life confined to a hospital bed. Cauldron came to me and offered a vial. They said it would give me a second chance, a chance to live—and to do more than that, to make a difference. I took it. That vial gave me powers. Legend and Eidolon received their abilities the same way."

    Rime's eyes narrowed. "So the rumors were true? Powers in a can?"

    Bastion stepped closer. "But what does this have to do with the Case 53s?"

    Alexandria met their gazes unflinchingly. "Sometimes the process doesn't work as intended. There are mutations—deviations. Those affected become Case 53s."

    Gully's face twisted in rage. "You knew. You knew all along! You did this to me!"

    Alexandria's tone softened, but her resolve didn't waver. "We chose people who were at death's door, who had no other options. The properties of the vials gave you a chance to survive. Gully—you are alive now because of that chance."

    Gully's voice cracked as she shouted, "You made me a monster!"

    Alexandria's voice rose, not in anger, but in defiance of the chaos Master sought to spread. "I understand your anger. You have every right to hate me. But listen to me—Master is trying to divide us. To make us turn on each other. All the good the Protectorate has done, all the lives we've saved, that's not a lie! You may hate me, and I will accept that. But don't hate the colleagues who knew nothing of this. Don't let this violent vigilante destroy what we've built. If you want to punish me, do it later. Right now, if we don't stop Master, we'll all lose."

    Gully looked ready to attack.

    The gathered heroes exchanged glances. Their expressions were heavy with anger and confusion, but as they turned their eyes to Master, a shared determination began to take hold.

    Master clapped slowly, a smirk on his face. "Well done, Chief Director Rebecca. I see your side job as head of the PRT has its uses after all."

    Before Alexandria could respond, a deep, resonating hum rippled through the air like the drumbeat of an impending apocalypse. The earth quaked violently as a colossal portal carved itself into the fabric of the sky.

    From this rift surged an armada—one thousand and twenty-four GranKuwagamons—each a towering behemoth of carapace and claw. Their sheer magnitude extinguished the light, plunging the city into an eerie twilight, their shadows stretching across the trembling forms of the gathered heroes.


    Bastion's voice thundered, a rare tremor of disbelief lacing his words. "What the hell is happening?!"

    "Damn," Cinereal muttered, her tone hollow with resignation. "We are all going to die."

    "A swarm of monsters has breached this world," Myrddin intoned grimly, stepping forward with his staff raised high. His eyes burned with defiance as his voice echoed across the chaos. "I will stand against them. None shall pass."

    Skitter exhaled sharply, a wave of relief breaking over her. "He's alive."

    "Yeah, great," Tattletale snapped, her voice cutting through like a whip. "But maybe focus up? Your child has enough firepower to take over the world. If this isn't concerning, I don't know what is."

    Alexandria stood frozen as the truth crashed over her like a tidal wave. It all clicked into place—Master's true plan, the unrelenting distraction. The revelation hit like a thunderbolt: Bait wasn't just a threat on par with the Endbringers. No, he was something far worse. He was a force of nature. A harbinger of annihilation.

    A god of destruction, standing shoulder to shoulder with Scion.

    Master's laughter reached a fever pitch, wild and unrestrained. "You fools!" he shouted. "Bait wasn't destroyed. The Dragon Slayers didn't kill him—they only destroyed a sliver of his existence! Bait divided. When we arrived, he was smaller for a reason. He fragmented himself into thousands of GranKuwagamon!"

    A wave of wind pressure emanated from the gathered GranKuwagamon, a heavy pulse that crashed over the heroes like a tide. One by one, they crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defenseless.

    Alexandria's voice rose in command. "Strider! Get us out of here, now!"

    But it was too late. Strider was down.

    A GranKuwagamon moved behind Master. The GranKuwagamon turned its glowing red eyes on Alexandria.

    "It's over," Master said, his voice calm but triumphant. "This is the end, Alexandria. Your era is finished. Welcome to ours."

    Alexandria's mind raced, searching desperately for a strategy to turn the tide. Facing a single GranKuwagamon had been the equivalent of confronting an S-Rank threat—a monumental challenge even under the best circumstances. But this? Over a thousand of them swarming the battlefield? The odds were insurmountable.

    Alexandria fixed her gaze on Master, her tone steely. "What do you want?"

    Master smirked. "To remove yours and the heroes parahuman powers."

    Alexandria's eyes narrowed. "You can't do that. We will lose countless heroes. It would be a disaster."

    Master's voice turned cold. "Any goodwill we might've had for you died the day you sent Ash Beast to destroy our city."

    "That wasn't us," Alexandria said firmly.

    Master said, "We both know who's really responsible."

    "I'll stop you," Alexandria declared.

    Before she could act, the wind twisted around Alexandria's head, cutting off her breath. She struggled but couldn't break free. She couldn't fly away.

    GranKuwagamon said, "Have you forgotten who controls the very air you breathe?"

    Before the situation could escalate further, Skitter stepped between Master and GranKuwagamon, her presence a mix of resolve and desperation.

    "Please," Skitter said, her voice steady. "Don't take away the heroes powers."

    From the sidelines, Tattletale's voice cut through, sharp with frustration. "What the hell are you doing?"

    Master raised an eyebrow. "Why should we stop? They've been our enemies."

    Skitter held her ground. "Because we still need the Protectorate Heroes."

    Master scoffed. "No, we don't. With Bait here, we can do better—24/7 vigilance, no rest, no hesitation."

    "They're good people," Skitter argued.

    Master's expression darkened. "Good people? Alexandria's part of the shadow government responsible for the Endbringers, Case 53s, Gray Boy, Siberian—you name it. When all this is over, do you know her punishment? She gets a slap on the wrist and even keeps her control over the PRT. Their incompetence is killing people."

    Skitter hesitated. "That's... that's not true."

    Master replied, "Shadow Stalker."

    Skitter froze, the weight of his words sinking in.

    An oppressive silence followed.

    GranKuwagamon's voice broke the tension, sharp and commanding. "We're letting the heroes go. But if they ever return, I won't hesitate to kill them."

    Skitter exhaled, relief softening her posture. "Thank you."

    Master turned to GranKuwagamon, his tone light but teasing. "Mama's boy."

    GranKuwagamon shrugged. "You'd do the same if your mom asked."

    GranKuwagamon released the pressure on the other heroes.

    Skitter pointed to Alexandria, who was still choking on air.

    Skitter said, "What about her?"

    "Oops. Forgot about her." With a flick of his wings, the air around Alexandria eased.

    Alexandria inhaled the air.

    "I hate you," Alexandria spat venomously.

    "I hate you more," GranKuwagamon replied.

    The thousand and twenty-three GranKuwagamon swarm returned to the portal back to the Digimon World.

    One GranKuwagamon went into the Super Phone in Greg's pocket.

    A portal opened and Greg went through it.

    Alexandria moved toward the Undersides and said, "Would you come with us?"

    Cinereal said, "No, we are not touching them! Or I am going to take you down myself! Why the fuck are we here! We were nearly killed by not one Endbringer-level threat. But over a thousand! You crazy bitch, are you trying to get us killed by messing with Master and Bait's family?!"

    Skitter muttered, "Bait is adopted."

    "Let's put aside the clustermate relationship," Myrddin said, his tone measured. "We've still got bigger issues to deal with—like the Case 53 situation and the fact that you're not just a Triumvirate member but also PRT Chief Director Rebecca."

    As the argument was getting heated between the heroes.

    Grue led the Undersides away. Canary needing to force Tattletale to leave because of her love for juicy gossip.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 89
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Greg.

    The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as the small boat rocked gently on the vast expanse of ocean. The quiet lapping of waves was the only sound, until a portal opened, depositing Zoe, Greg, and the frozen figure of Contessa into the boat's center, all eerily still.

    Greg let out a weary sigh, his gaze fixed on Contessa's frozen expression.

    This was the woman who had killed his uncle, a figure who had caused immense suffering while paradoxically saving countless lives.

    GranKuwagamon often shared stories about Cauldron, and Greg still wrestled with the morality of their actions. Were they saviors or villains? The ambiguity reminded him of ancient Rome—a civilization that left a legacy of progress and brutality. It was hard to say if the world might have been better served by a different power in place of an empire so often defined by its wars.

    His eyes drifted to the crate of apples sitting nearby. With a resigned shake of his head, Greg turned to Zoe.

    "We need to get rid of those apples," he said. "I can't tell which one is poisoned."

    Zoe said, "It would be a waste of food, I will figure out which one is poisoned later."

    Greg said, "Can you unfreeze her?"

    Zoe reached for her toy gun and used it to unfreeze Contessa from her temporal stasis.

    Zoe's eyes met Contessa's, and through her Soul Gaze, she glimpsed the depths of Contessa's history, emotions, and thoughts. Contessa was operating on autopilot, existing but not truly living, entirely consumed by her path. It was as if she were a child using a Monkey Paw to wish for becoming the best ballerina, only to have a cruel twist of fate force her into endless, unrelenting practice. Contessa had never matured or learned to master her powers—rather, her powers had mastered her. Contessa was inhumane and soulless, just like the organization Cauldron she has helped build.

    Greg moved forward, his hand crackling with electricity. Prepared to end Contessa's life.

    Contessa, however, used her power to chart a path, seeking a way to survive.

    "Your uncle wouldn't want you to kill me," Contessa said, her tone calm, even in the face of death.

    Greg hesitated, his movements faltering. He glanced back at Zoe, then down at the superphone, where GranKuwagamon's voice spoke with quiet conviction.

    "Contessa won't stop, Greg. She'll always find a way to target those you love. This won't end as long as she's alive."

    Greg's hand trembled as he turned back to face her. Contessa's piercing gaze bore into him, as if she could still see every possibility, every choice he might make.

    "I hope my uncle can forgive me," Greg muttered, his voice heavy with sorrow.

    Greg reached out and placed his hand on Contessa's head. A brilliant bolt of lightning erupted from his palm, illuminating the boat and the darkening ocean. Contessa's body jolted violently as the electricity coursed through her, the sharp scent of ozone and burnt flesh filling the air.

    When the light faded, Contessa's lifeless body slumped forward, her once-calculating eyes now empty.

    Contessa was dead.

    The silence returned, heavier than before.

    ----

    POV GranKuwagamon.

    GranKuwagamon hovered silently over a building, scanning it with intent.

    Greg stood next to Zoe, a Computer Orb was hovering next to her, Tranquility. The three were stationed atop a building near the Boardwalk.

    Tranquility observed, its tone tinged with disappointment. "So, this is the twentieth century. It's far more polluted than I expected—the air, sea, and land are all tainted."

    Greg sighed. "This isn't normal. It's Brockton Bay."

    Zoe looked at the others. "Is everyone ready to head to Cauldron Base?"

    Greg's expression hardened. "This is the spot where Contessa used a sniper to try to kill me. My uncle died because of her. I guess it's fitting that my journey for justice and vengeance brings me back."

    Zoe hesitated, her voice soft. "Greg..."

    GranKuwagamon spoke, his deep voice reverberating. "From this very rooftop, I recall Contessa slipping through my grasp. Back then, as JewelBeemon, I pierced her stomach with my spear. She still managed to escape by opening a portal at this exact spot."

    The massive Digimon reached down, touching the ground where Doormaker's portal had allowed Contessa to evade him months before.

    Zoe adjusted her hair, then raised her Digivice, pointing it at the location GranKuwagamon indicated.

    "Let's try this," she said, focusing her energy on creating a portal with the Digivice.

    Despite her efforts, the Digivice struggled to open a portal to Cauldron Base. She could easily connect to the Dark Ocean or the Digimon World, but this link eluded her.

    "Allow me," GranKuwagamon offered, his mandibles gleaming. "Dimension Scissor!"

    With a swift motion, he snapped his mandibles, slicing through space itself. A shimmering portal to Cauldron Base appeared.

    Zoe exhaled in relief. "We did it."

    GranKuwagamon nodded. "Let's finish this."

    Tranquility's voice was chipper. "I'm eager to meet new people."

    Zoe stepped forward. "We will need to win. Everyone on this Earth is counting on us."

    Greg smiled, determination shining in his eyes. "We will."

    He pulled out a super phone, and GranKuwagamon digitized himself into the device.

    With GranKuwagamon in the super phone. Greg, Zoe, and Tranquility entered Cauldron's Base.

    ----

    POV Greg.

    Greg, Zoe, and Tranquility stepped into the Cauldron Base. The halls greeted them with an eerie normalcy, sterile and unassuming, painted in neutral grays and whites. The hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional hum of distant machinery created an unsettling backdrop.

    Greg's mind raced as he walked, haunted by the myriad of grim futures Tricolored Witchmon's had shown him. If they failed to neutralize Contessa and Cauldron, disaster would strike. Bombs rigged throughout the base would ensure GranKuwagamon's death. They would face Alexandria, Legend, and even the Fairy Queen would battle them. The base itself could self-destruct, taking everyone and everything within it.

    Battling Contessa within the confines of the Cauldron Base would spell disaster. The risks were too great—the traps, reinforcements, and her intricate knowledge of the terrain made victory nearly impossible. That's why they had to kill her away from her stronghold.

    They pressed deeper into the labyrinthine halls until they reached Cauldron's meeting room, a cold, stark chamber lined with screens and a long table. Doctor Mother stood waiting for them.

    Greg stepped forward, his voice firm. "I'm here to arrest you."

    Doctor Mother's expression remained composed, her eyes betrayed a flicker of something between curiosity and disdain. "Arrest me? Are you planning to kill me like you did that poor child, Contessa?"

    Greg clenched his fists, his tone sharp. "I might. It depends on how this conversation goes."

    "I see," Doctor Mother tilted her head slightly. "How will you deal with the Case 53s still residing in this base?"

    Tranquility interjected, her voice resolute and artificial yet undeniably empathetic. "I am Tranquility, an artificial intelligence. I will house the Case 53s in my world, where they can find peace and safety. Greg has the means to heal them, whether through his healing cookies or other resources, to help them return to their human forms."

    Doctor Mother's expression hardened. "And what about Eden? What do you plan to do with her?"

    GranKuwagamon's voice resonated from the Super Phone. Greg held. "I will destroy Eden."

    Doctor Mother uttered a single, weighty word: "Scion."

    Greg met her gaze with determination. "We'll defeat him."

    After a brief pause, Doctor Mother lowered her head slightly. "I surrender."

    Greg gestured and Tranquility used its telekinetic abilities to lift Doctor Mother off the ground, suspending them in the air like a prisoner caught in an invisible web.

    Greg's mind churned with everything he wanted to say to them. How could you create the Case 53s? How could you justify the Nemesis and Terminus projects? How could you even accidentally unleash the Endbringers upon the world?

    But he knew his words would fall on deaf ears. These were sociopaths, people who had long abandoned empathy in favor of their so-called greater purpose. Talking to them would be a waste of breath.

    Instead, Greg allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction as Tranquility prepared to imprison them. That would be a fitting end.

    ----

    POV GranKuwagamon.

    Eden was a twisted forest of crystal flesh, once alive with its grotesqueness.

    GranKuwagamon flew above it, eyes fixed on the lifeless remains of Eden. He knew the destruction he was about to bring was final. His mandibles crackled with power, and without hesitation, he raised them to the sky. "Zone Black Hole!" he roared, sending forth a massive ball of darkness. The orb expanded, devouring the dead forest, its gravity pulling everything into the void.

    The landscape seemed to fold in on itself, the grotesque, twisted remnants of Eden's flesh quickly being consumed by the force of the Zone Black Hole. GranKuwagamon did not stop there. With a fierce growl, he summoned more of the destructive spheres, each one more powerful than the last. The Z Black Holes tore through the remains of Eden, erasing every last trace of the twisted forest.

    The air rippled with the energy of the attacks as the very ground seemed to disintegrate under GranKuwagamon's relentless assault. Eden was gone, reduced to nothing but echoes in the darkness, consumed completely by the raw power of the GranKuwagamon will.

    ----

    POV Tranquility.

    Tranquility moved through the Cauldron Base with purpose, his presence a calm amidst the chaos. As he encountered the Case 53s, he observed the variety of mental states they were in. Some were infantile, lost in confusion, while others had reverted to animalistic behaviors, no longer able to communicate. A few were consumed by anger, swearing revenge for the twisted fates they had been forced to endure. Each one was a fractured soul, twisted into unnatural forms—lava-like creatures, fish people, and many other grotesque aberrations.

    Tranquility hummed softly to himself as he processed more than 22,000 Case 53s, each one a new challenge to be addressed. These were his new residents, and he was determined to help them. Zoe, kind-hearted as always, had opened a portal between the Cauldron Base and the Shelter of his Earth, allowing Tranquility to bring them there for care and rehabilitation.

    One particular Case 53 caught his attention: a goat-like girl, curled up and trembling in her Cauldron cell. Tranquility's telekinetic powers reached out and gently lifted her, pulling her from her confinement. He hovered her in front of him, a soft hum emanating from his form as he summoned one of his healing cookies. As he presented it to her, he explained, "This will remove your power and give back your human body."

    The girl hesitated but, sensing no threat, took the cookie and ate it. As soon as she did, a wave of transformation swept over her. Her body began to shrink and shift, the monstrous goat-like features melting away. Her fur receded, and her hooves turned back into human feet. The power that had distorted her form faded, and in its place, her human appearance returned, though she looked confused and disoriented.

    Tranquility watched patiently, ensuring her safety as she slowly regained her humanity. With his telekinesis, he gently guided her into more appropriate clothing, her appearance now as normal as it could be. Once she was properly dressed, he led her through a portal to the Shelter and guided her to a room in the Shelter, a space designed for her care and healing.

    There, Tranquility began to study her, noting the changes in her behavior, her speech, and her mental clarity. This was the first step toward her rehabilitation. She would be given the chance to integrate back into society, either becoming a proud citizen of the Shelter or, if she needed more time, living as one of the other children who had been through similar transformations.

    Hopefully she wouldn't turn into a NEET like so many others.

    Tranquility moved on to the next Case 53—a T-Rex-like creature, massive and imposing, yet mentally just as fragmented. With a flick of his telekinetic power, Tranquility began the process of restoring the creature, offering the same healing cookies that had already worked wonders. One by one, he would transform these broken beings back to their true human selves, giving them the opportunity for a new life free of Cauldron's abuse and control.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 90
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Greg.

    Wormmon and Greg were having breakfast together.

    With the defeat of Cauldron it was safe again for Grankuwagamon to be Wormmon.

    By combining 1,024 Grankuwagamon into MegaGrankuwagamon then de-digivolving into Wormmon.

    Wormmon was munching on Cheerios, while Greg was devouring a slice of pizza and washing it down with soda.

    Wormmon said between bites. "Is there anything you want to buy?"

    Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. "I dunno... I can't really think of anything I need."

    "We are heading back to the Digimon World today," Wormmon suggested. "I think Earth Bet can survive without us for a while."

    Greg froze mid-bite, setting down his pizza. "You know, it's been on my mind. I don't think I've got anyone I really connect with on Earth Bet. I mean, there's my mom, and I've got relationships with Sveta and Taylor, but... that's about it."

    "You've got me," Wormmon said, climbing onto Greg's shoulder. "And Zoe, Chevalier, Dinah—"

    "Yeah, but that's a pretty short list," Greg said, frowning. "Wow. I really don't have many friends."

    Wormmon nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

    As if on cue, Zoe appeared, opening a swirling portal in front of them.

    "Come on, you two," Zoe said. "Let's head back to the Digimon World."

    Three of them stepped through the portal, which deposited them onto the deck of a ship floating in the eerie waters of the Dark Ocean.

    The Dark Ocean stretched infinitely around him, a bleak and oppressive expanse under a moonless sky. Thick, roiling mist cloaked the horizon, curling like grasping fingers around the cruise ship. The air was heavy, damp, and smelled faintly of decay.

    Meanwhile, in contrast the cruise ship was an island of luxury adrift in the Dark Ocean. Its gleaming white hull stood out sharply against the suffocating darkness surrounding it, and its sheer size made it seem impervious to the churning waves.

    A ShadowToymon greeted them with a bow. "Welcome aboard the S.S. Veder!"

    "Who came up with that name?" Greg asked, looking around.

    Zoe cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh, that would be me. But never mind that! This ship survived the Dark Ocean's strange properties and makes traveling between dimensions way easier. It's also kind of a hub—wandering Digimon and humans from other worlds sometimes end up here."

    "That's interesting," Greg admitted, impressed despite himself.

    Zoe nodded. "The Dark Ocean connects to the multiverse in strange ways. My theory is that any world with computers has some kind of link to this place."

    Wormmon said, "Greg, look over there. Do you see that dark tower?"

    Greg squinted. Sure enough, in the distance, a shadowy tower pierced the foggy skyline. "Yeah, I see it."


    Wormmon nodded, his voice calm but intense. "I built it using the power of the Dark Ocean. It's a weapon—a weapon I plan to use to take down Scion."

    Greg's eyes widened. "Wait... you're serious?"

    "Completely," Wormmon confirmed. "Imagine a thousand GrandKuwagamon experimenting with their power. The Dark Tower creation is something I made by accident. It has some... unique properties. It serves as an anchor for dimensions and can impose rules or laws on the surrounding area. It's like having a home-field advantage whenever it's in play."

    Greg lit up with excitement. "Can you show me what it can do?"

    Wormmon raised a hand, and the Dark Tower emitted a swirling plume of darkness.

    Greg started, both thrilled and unnerved. "Okay, that's equal parts amazing and terrifying."

    Nearby, Zoe grinned and chimed in. "Alright, this was just a quick pit stop. Next destination—the Digimon World!"

    She raised her Digivice, and another portal flickered into existence. The three of them stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited on the other side.

    ----

    Greg, Zoe, and Wormmon found themselves in the heart of the Digimon World.

    The human settlement around them was a mesmerizing blend of old and new—medieval-style architecture intertwined with sleek, futuristic technology. Humans and Digimon strolled side by side, the buzz of chatter and activity creating an enchanting atmosphere.

    "Greg!" a familiar voice called out sharply.

    Greg turned to see his mother, Grace, power-walking toward him with the speed and determination of someone on a mission.

    "Mom?" Greg said, his voice laced with confusion. The fiery glare in her eyes, however, made him instinctively uneasy.

    "GREG!" Grace shouted, her tone leaving no room for debate.

    Sensing imminent danger—or maybe just another round of motherly wrath—Greg bolted, running as though Scion himself were chasing him. Grace, just as determined, broke into a sprint, hot on his heels.

    Zoe and Wormmon were left standing in the middle of the bustling settlement, watching the chaotic scene unfold.

    Greg wheezed, completely out of breath, as Grace finally caught up to him. Before he could react, she had him in a firm headlock, her grip as unrelenting as her glare.

    "You are NOT running away from me!" Grace yelled, tightening her hold.

    "I give up! I give up!" Greg gasped, flailing his arms in surrender.

    Grace wasn't having it. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been? Bill is dead, you were missing, and I had half the alphabet of government agencies breathing down my neck! FBI, CIA, NCIS—you name it! My son, who killed a hero to save the world from Endbringers, just disappears off the face of the Earth! And then, out of nowhere, I get dragged into this world. Do you even understand how much I've worried about you?"

    Greg squirmed in her grasp. "Sorry, Mom! Just let me explain!"

    "You can explain all you want," Grace snapped, releasing him only to shake her finger in his face. "But you're grounded. For LIFE. And I'm throwing away the key!"

    Greg groaned, knowing there was no arguing with Grace when she got like this. Wormmon and Zoe, watching from a safe distance, exchanged glances.

    "Maybe we should've helped," Zoe muttered.

    Wormmon said. "Nah, this is just another form of motherly love."

    ----

    Greg, Grace, Wormmon, and Zoe wandered through the bustling human settlement, taking in the sights and sounds.

    The streets were lined with restaurants offering a variety of cuisines, each more enticing than the last.

    As they continued, they came across a grand monument of Marcus, erected to honor his heroic efforts in saving the Digimon World.

    Wormmon stared at the statue and remarked, "Wow, this is realistic."

    Zoe said. "We're thinking of leaving behind statues of our own someday."


    Greg said, "Why doesn't he have a shirt?"

    ----

    Greg, Grace, Wormmon, and Zoe found the Miracle Cookie Bush.


    Greg said, "This is the cookie bush that creates healing cookies. It's good that it is still healthy."

    Grace said, "Oh so this cured my germaphobia."

    Wormmon explained, "I spent five days as Kongoumon gathering energy to perform a miracle, enchanting this cookie bush. The cookies it produces can heal injuries and even remove parahuman powers."

    Grace asked, "Why did you choose cookie bush to enchant?"

    Wormmon answered, "Because every night the Digimon World is reset and the cookies are recreated."

    Zoe said, "These cookies were used to cure Case 53 from the Cauldron Base."

    Greg said, "We are going to gather some to cure Case 53 that are left in our world too."

    Wormmon looked at Greg with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Hey, Greg, I've got a cool trick to show you."

    Greg raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Let's see it."

    Turning to Zoe, Wormmon asked, "Zoe, can you sign my face?"

    Zoe pulled a pen from her skirt pocket, a hint of amusement on her face. "You want me to draw on your face?"

    Wormmon nodded eagerly. "Exactly!"

    Grinning, Zoe leaned in and carefully wrote the word 'cute' on Wormmon's cheek.


    Zoe stepped back with a satisfied smile. "All done."

    Wormmon turned to Greg. "Pay close attention now."

    In an instant, the tattoo vanished from Wormmon's cheek.


    Greg stared at Wormmon in awe. "Wait, how did you do that? Was that some kind of magic trick?"

    Wormmon's voice was calm but carried a weight of sadness. "No trick. I learned it from Huanglongmon's ability to manipulate causality. I tapped into my Digicore and erased the moment of injury from my history. It's like resetting myself, and I've made it automatic now—anytime I'm hurt, as long as I have energy, my body restores itself to perfect health."

    Greg's expression brightened. "That's incredible! But... I remember you being killed by Saint's tinkertech bomb after you fought Ash Beast. Why didn't you reset yourself then?"

    Wormmon's tone dropped, heavy with regret. "I wish I could have. But that version of me… died. That part of me never learned this technique, unlike the rest of the swarm."

    Zoe gently explained, "Wormmon doesn't have the memories of the time you spent together on Earth Bet. GranKuwagamon died before he could remerge with the swarm and update with new skills and techniques. That's why he doesn't remember Operation Amy, blinding the Empire 88 supporters, or fighting Ash Beast."

    Greg sighed deeply, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Man, that's really sad."

    Wormmon let out a small, bitter laugh. "Sounds like I was carrying a lot of baggage back then."

    Greg's expression shifted as he hesitated. "Do you at least remember being adopted by Taylor?"

    Wormmon froze, his eyes widening in shock. He stared at Greg for a long moment before wailing dramatically, "Goddammit! Why couldn't it have been me?!"

    ----

    Riding Ceresmon, the group headed to the Tower.

    Greg, Grace, Wormmon, and Zoe climbed the winding path to the Tri-Witchmon Tower, its shadow stretching long and foreboding under the fading light.

    As they entered, the Red Witchmon greeted them with a serene yet somber expression. "We've been expecting you."

    Wormmon said with reverence. "Oh great, Tri Color Witchmon tell me the futures"

    The Blue Witchmon stepped forward, handing Greg a weighty tome. "Inside, you'll find details of three disasters that will strike Earth Bet every single day."

    Wormmon furrowed his brow. "How do you even manage all this? How do you decide which catastrophe deserves attention first?"

    The Yellow Witchmon's voice was soft but carried a heavy truth. "We follow your lead, Wormmon. In the future, you witness these disasters—airplane crashes, forest fires, and countless emergencies. You try to be a hero, preventing them before they claim lives."

    Wormmon's shoulders sank slightly. "We killed Contessa. Without her protecting the world, someone has to step up. Looks like that someone is us."

    Greg placed a hand on Wormmon's back, offering a small, encouraging smile. "We'll do our best. Together."

    Wormmon nodded, his voice quieter now. "Yeah... together."

    The Red Witchmon's gaze softened as she stepped closer. "If ever you feel lost, if you need guidance, we'll be here for you."

    Greg swallowed hard, his voice steady but tinged with emotion. "Thank you."

    The Yellow Witchmon said, "You help us save our World. We will help you save your own."

    ----

    Riding on the majestic Ceresmon, Greg, Grace, Wormmon, and Zoe arrived at the gates of Blastmon Castle, a glittering fortress that somehow looked both intimidating and fabulous.

    At the gate, Fugamon crossed his arms. "Turn back! This is Blastmon Brigade territory!"

    Orgemon chimed in with a snarl, "Leave now, or prepare to be beaten!"

    Zoe stepped forward confidently. "I know the password."

    Fugamon raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What is it, missy?"

    Zoe smirked. "Blastmon rules."

    The duo straightened up immediately, saluting. "You may enter!"

    As they walked through the gates, Grace whispered, "Is this really a good idea?"

    Greg shrugged. "Absolutely."

    Inside, the castle was a mix of chaos and glitter. Orgemon and Fugamon were busy training like it was a boot camp, while others prepared weapons.

    In the throne room, Blastmon sat proudly atop a massive treasure chest, baby Digimon floating around him like little bodyguards.


    "Humans!" Blastmon boomed, grinning ear to ear. "Have you come to join my glorious army?"

    Greg tilted his head. "What's in it for us?"

    Blastmon gestured dramatically to an ice cream machine behind him. "Ice cream!"

    Wormmon's eyes lit up. "Deal!" he shouted, hopping over to the machine and immediately helping himself.

    "Wonderful!" Blastmon said, clapping his massive hands together.

    Greg chuckled. "So, how have you been, Blastmon?"

    "Fantastic!" Blastmon replied, puffing out his chest. "My army is nearly ready! Soon, I'll conquer everything! Just need to finish training my troops."

    Greg pointed at the baby Digimon crawling around and playing on Blastmon's head. "Uh… what's the deal with the kids?"

    "They're future recruits," Blastmon said proudly. "Digieggs just… appear around me. I guess I'm inspiring."

    Greg pulled out a tray of candy canes. "Here, try some human-world snacks."

    Blastmon took one, crunched it like it was a carrot, and grinned maniacally. "Not bad! These are from your world, right?"

    Greg nodded. "Yup."

    Blastmon's eyes gleamed. "Then I shall conquer it!"

    Greg gave a nonchalant shrug. "Honestly, go for it. Might even be an improvement."

    Wormmon piped up between licks of his ice cream. "Yeah, yeah, Blastmon would make a fantastic American president."

    Blastmon stood, radiating confidence. "President, you say? I shall become this 'American President' and make America part of the Blastmon Brigade! It will be glorious!"

    Wormmon cheered. "You've got my vote!"

    Greg laughed. "You've got my support, buddy."

    Grace buried her face in her hands. "I am deeply concerned that my son is surrounded by idiots."

    Zoe grinned. "Don't worry, I'm normal."

    Grace gave her a long look. "Honey, no, you're really not."

    ----

    POV Wormmon.

    The sun hung low over the ocean, casting a golden glow across the beach as Wormmon scuttled over the soft sand. Near the water's edge, Ranamon stood, her reflection shimmering in the gentle waves. She turned as Wormmon approached, her face softening with a warm smile.

    "Sorry," Wormmon said, his voice quiet but tinged with emotion. "Did you miss me?"

    Ranamon let out a soft laugh. "You were never truly gone. You always leave a part of yourself near me, a Grankuwagomon, a fragment of yourself." She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on his small form. "It's been a while since I've seen you like this."

    Wormmon glanced down at his diminutive body. "Yeah."

    Ranamon's tone turned teasing, but her eyes were filled with concern. "You've been far too busy, haven't you? Experimenting on yourself, building those strange towers, chasing the next evolution. Maybe it's time you take a break."

    Wormmon hesitated, staring out at the waves. "Maybe… after Golden Morning."

    Ranamon sighed, stepping closer and brushing a hand gently over his head. "Rest, my overworking husband. If you're ever tired, if the weight gets too much, or if you just need someone to talk to… I'm here. I'll always be waiting for you."

    Wormmon looked up at her, gratitude flickering in his eyes. "Thank you."

    Together, they sat by the shoreline, watching the waves roll in and out, the quiet rhythm of the ocean a soothing balm for their weary hearts. For a moment, time stood still, and all the burdens of the world seemed to wash away with the tide.

    ----

    POV Greg.

    The soft glow of the setting sun bathed Greg and Grace as they sat on a weathered wooden bench, nursing steaming cups of chocolate milk with tiny marshmallows floating on top. The air was crisp, and the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze filled the quiet moments between their words.

    Greg took a sip and smiled wistfully. "I missed this taste. It reminds me of when I was little."

    Grace held her cup close, her hands trembling slightly as she exhaled. "This feels… surreal. Sometimes, I'm terrified that I'll wake up back in that hospital room, trapped with the same… broken mind."

    Greg placed a hand gently over hers. "This isn't a dream, Mom. You're here, with me, and you're okay."

    Her lips quivered into a faint smile, but her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Have I ever told you about what happened? The accident that… changed everything?"

    Greg shook his head, his expression soft. "I was too young when it happened. I never understood."

    Grace looked out at the horizon, her voice trembling as she began. "I used to work for the CDC. We were called in after an attack by the Slaughterhouse 9. Bonesaw… she'd created a disease. It made people allergic to their own hair. They couldn't stop pulling it out—ripping it from their scalps, their eyebrows, anywhere it grew. It was horrifying."

    She paused, her breath hitching as the memory overtook her. "My colleague… he had an accident. I don't know how it started, but he began tearing at his own scalp, pulling it off with his bare hands. The blood, Greg… there was so much blood. I couldn't stop him. I just… froze. And after that, I was never the same."

    Greg's voice cracked as he whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mom."

    Grace wiped her eyes with a shaky hand. "I wish I'd been stronger, Greg. I wish I could've been there for you as you grew up. Instead, I broke, and you were left alone. I heard about your Uncle Bill, how he died, but I… I don't know your story. Will you tell me?"

    Greg nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Sure, Mom. I'll tell you everything."

    And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars began to peek through the darkening sky, Greg talked. He told her about his struggles, his adventures, his mistakes, and his triumphs. Grace listened, hanging on every word, her heart heavy with guilt but lightened by the connection she'd feared was lost.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 90.25
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Greg.

    When Greg and Wormmon returned to Earth Bet, Wormmon Digivolved into MegaGranKuwagamon before splitting into 1,024 smaller and weaker GranKuwagamon.

    GranKuwagamon explained his decision: the split allowed him to continue his mission in the Dark Ocean, constructing new Dark Towers in preparation for the upcoming battle against Scion. Additionally, he sought to fulfill the protective role once occupied by Contessa.

    Meanwhile, Greg was contributing in his own way, helping others and earning money through innovative means.

    In his warehouse, surrounded by batteries of all kinds—cell phone batteries, car batteries, AA, and AAA—Greg was hard at work. Using his lightning powers, he supercharged the batteries, infusing them with energy that made them last exponentially longer, hundreds or even thousands of times more than usual.

    GranKuwagamon expressed concern about the possibility of the batteries exploding, but Greg brushed it off with a grin. "Done," he said, sealing a freshly charged battery in a box. "Bait, let's donate some of these. I'll sell the rest—maybe a curious Tinker will buy them."

    Greg began considering potential buyers. The PRT wouldn't approve, but he could try the Undersiders, Toybox, or even the Dark Web.

    GranKuwagamon, his voice steady and resonant, nodded. "Alright, let's make it happen."

    As they planned how to distribute the batteries to those in need, Greg couldn't help but smile to himself. He wasn't the only one working hard. He wondered what the other GranKuwagamon clones, scattered across the world, were doing at that very moment.

    ---

    POV Firefighter Kevin

    Every year, wildfires tore through Australia, leaving destruction in their wake. This one was no exception, with flames raging fiercely and consuming the dry forest. Firefighter Kevin worked tirelessly alongside his crew, cutting down trees to create a firebreak, his saw buzzing against the backdrop of crackling flames.

    Then, a shadow passed overhead. Kevin looked up and froze, his saw falling silent. A massive, insect-like figure hovered above the inferno, wings beating with measured power. It was Bait—GranKuwagamon—the vigilante who had become a legend in Brockton Bay.

    With a single, mighty flap of his wings, GranKuwagamon unleashed a gust of wind that snuffed out the wildfire in an instant. The flames surrendered, leaving behind a smoking but manageable landscape. Without a word, the colossal Digimon turned and soared into the sky, disappearing into the horizon.

    Kevin exhaled in relief, his heart still racing. "Guess we're not the only ones fighting fires anymore."

    ---

    POV Airplane Pilot Zaharie

    Zaharie's hands trembled on the controls as the plane plummeted toward the South China Sea. The cockpit alarms blared in a deafening cacophony, and the passengers' terrified screams echoed through the cabin. Every attempt Zaharie made to stabilize the craft failed. They were going down.

    As his life flashed before his eyes, Zaharie suddenly felt the impossible—a force lifting the plane. Through the airplabe camera, he saw the source: a gigantic insect Digimon, wings beating like a living hurricane, holding the plane aloft. GranKuwagamon.

    "You're riding the Bait Express," the Digimon boomed, his voice calm but powerful. "Please keep your seatbelts fastened."

    GranKuwagamon carried the aircraft with a mix of sheer strength and wind manipulation, guiding it gently to the Malaysian airport. As the plane touched down safely, Zaharie leaned back in his seat, his chest heaving with relief.

    "Thank you," he whispered, though he wasn't sure GranKuwagamon could hear him.

    ----

    POV Astronaut Valentina

    Valentina's excitement as the rocket launched into space quickly turned to dread. Alarms blared as an onboard error threatened the integrity of the spacecraft. The pressure of the acceleration sandwiched the haul, and the crew knew their time was running out.

    Valentina braced herself for the inevitable, her mind racing through the possibilities. Then, against all odds, salvation arrived. A shimmering bubble of air encased the rocket. Outside, she glimpsed the enormous form of GranKuwagamon, his wings and claws guiding them with precision.

    "That could have been a disaster," GranKuwagamon said, his tone both serious and lighthearted.

    Carefully, he maneuvered the damaged rocket back toward the launch site, ensuring their safety. As the spacecraft touched back down, Valentina gazed in awe at the Digimon who had saved their lives.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 90.50
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Gully

    Gully sat in a guest room at the New York PRT HQ. The room was decorated to feign comfort: polished furniture, a potted plant in the corner, and a table overflowing with pastries, crackers, and cheese. The skyline outside the window sparkled, a cruel contrast to the storm brewing inside her.

    Her PRT handlers, Matthew and Samantha, stood silently by the door. Matthew, who often talked about his three-year-old back home, avoided her gaze. Samantha, who once boasted about her sprawling, loving family, shifted uncomfortably. Their presence, normally a small reassurance, now felt suffocating.

    Gully's anger was a furnace, roaring hotter with every second. Her body felt like it was tearing itself apart as she waited for the verdict.

    She replayed the revelations from Brockton Bay over and over in her mind. Master's expose of the Protectorate's experiments with Case 53s had shattered her faith. They had turned her into this… this thing. A monster.

    The door opened, and Director Wilkins strode in, exuding the cool detachment that only made Gully's rage boil hotter.

    "How are you doing, Gully?" he asked, his tone far too calm, far too casual.

    "How do you think I'm doing?" Gully snapped. "Tell me one thing—did that bitch Alexandria and Legend get what they deserve?"

    Wilkins hesitated. "Legend and Alexandria are no longer leading the Protectorate, and they've stepped down from the Triumvirate."

    Gully's fists clenched, her voice rising. "What? Are they still heroes? Still part of the Protectorate?"

    "Yes," Wilkins admitted. "We need them."

    "Need them?" Gully's voice cracked with fury as she slammed her hand into the table, sending pastries scattering. "Look at what they did to me! They turned me into a freak! I wanted to lead the Wards, to be a real leader—but how could I, looking like this? Do you know what it's like to see the fear in people's eyes? To know I'll never have a normal life? No partner, no future—just stares, whispers, and pity. And now those monsters who did this to me get to walk away? Still called heroes?"

    "I'm sorry," Wilkins said, his words hollow. "But it's out of my hands."

    "Well, it's not out of mine," Gully growled, her voice low and venomous. "I'm done with this. I'm leaving the Wards. I'll never work for you again."

    Wilkins stiffened but didn't falter. "That is your choice. But you're bound by confidentiality. You'll need to sign an NDA. We don't want the image of the PRT to be ruined."

    Gully's laughter was bitter, harsh. "Sign? Are you kidding me? Screw your papers, screw your lies, and screw you!"

    Before she could do more, a dart hit her arm.

    She turned her head and saw him—Matthew. He looked heartbroken.

    Gully was hit by enough tranquilizer to put a blue whale to sleep.

    Gully crashed into the table infront of her, destroying the food prepared for her.

    Wilkins sighed, approaching her frozen form. "I understand your anger, but this country needs the PRT. I'm sorry. Once you cool down and sign the document, you'll be free to leave."

    But Gully wasn't free. Not really. They sent her, still asleep, to a high-security facility.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 91
  • Threadmarks
    • POV GranKuwagamon


    GranKuwagamon, the massive insectoid Digimon, was preparing to embark on a journey to Boston with Greg. He wanted to find a gift for his mother, Taylor.

    GranKuwagamon realized that after taking down Cauldron, Greg and himself needed some rest and recovery. What better place than Boston?

    Greg left the building and headed toward GranKuwagamon and he said, "I'm ready."

    "Did you grab the cookie and gaming console?" GranKuwagamon rumbled, glancing down at Greg with his many gleaming red eyes.

    Greg nodded, patting the bag slung over his shoulder. "I've got everything."

    "Great," GranKuwagamon replied, giving a satisfied hum. "Now, climb on my back."

    Greg clambered up, settling himself between the insect Digimon's wings.

    GranKuwagamon gave a nod, his wings unfolding with a powerful snap. "Alright. Hold tight."

    GranKuwagamon harnessed his energy to manipulate the winds, ensuring Greg remained shielded from the intense pressure as they soared past Mach speed. Humans were fragile, after all, and couldn't endure such forces.

    The scenery blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors as GranKuwagamon streaked through the sky. Cities, towns, and farms flashed by in a vivid, swirling cascade.

    In no time, GranKuwagamon landed in Boston.

    As they stood amidst the bustling city, Greg and GranKuwagamon shared a realization: the world felt much smaller now.

    ---

    POV Sveta.

    Sveta wore the prosthetic suit carefully, concentrating on controlling her strength to avoid damaging it. She moved slowly, every motion deliberate as she worked hard to keep the suit intact.

    Sveta sat nervously in the quiet therapy room, hands clasped, her gaze shifting between the door and Dr. Jessica Yamada, who sat beside her with a gentle, encouraging smile. Jessica, a parahuman psychologist who had been with her through so much, had mentioned a surprise guest, but Sveta hadn't guessed who it would be.

    When the door opened, Greg stepped in, looking somewhat shy, holding a single, small cookie in his hand. He smiled warmly at her, and she felt her heart lift.

    "Good to see you, Sveta," he said, walking over and extending the cookie toward her.

    She smiled back, a bit confused. "Good to see you too, Greg. What's with the cookie?"

    Greg took a deep breath. "This is... well, if you eat this, you'll lose your powers. You'll be human again."

    For a moment, Sveta laughed, assuming he was joking. But something in his face made her pause. "Greg… don't play with me like that."

    He looked into her eyes, steady and serious. "I'm not joking, Sveta. This cookie was blessed by the miracles of Kongoumon. It can heal a Case 53 body completely."

    Sveta's breath caught hope filling her heart in a way it hadn't in years. Her hands trembled as she reached out, touching the cookie with her prosthetic fingers. Jessica's eyes glistened, her hands pressed to her mouth as if holding back her own emotions.

    Taking a steadying breath, Sveta brought the cookie to her lips, closed her eyes, and took a bite.

    The change was immediate. She felt warmth rush over her, her body reshaping itself; she felt soft, warm skin, the familiar weight and balance of a human form. When she opened her eyes, she looked down at her hands—real, human hands.

    Sveta's prosthetic suit fell to the ground because of her small frame.

    Tears rolled down Jessica's face as she watched, her voice breaking with emotion. "Oh, Sveta…"

    A soft, disbelieving laugh bubbled up in Sveta's throat. She lifted her hands to her face, feeling real skin, real warmth. Overwhelmed with joy, she turned to Jessica, pulling her into a tight embrace, laughing and crying all at once.

    Greg turned away, his face a mix of relief and awkwardness. "Uh… maybe you should get some clothes?"

    Sveta laughed, clutching Jessica tightly, the sound pure and unrestrained. It was a laugh full of freedom, of finally being whole.

    ----

    POV GranKuwagamon

    GranKuwagamon faced an unexpected dilemma: Lamborghini or Ferrari? In the showroom of a luxury car dealership, he weighed his options carefully. Beside him, a very nervous salesgirl tried to assist, glancing nervously at her manager, who was frantically on the phone with the PRT.

    "This car," GranKuwagamon muttered, gesturing at a sleek Lamborghini, "might suit mom style... but then again, the Ferrari has that extra flair." He stroked his chin, his gaze shifting between the two cars. Besides, he had plans to expand his own collection. A few of the other high-end models caught his eye, and he made a mental note to claim those as well.

    On the other side of the showroom, the manager's panicked voice echoed, "What do you mean you can't send any heroes! I pay my taxes! What do you mean he can destroy the city!?"

    Turning to reassure them, GranKuwagamon said calmly, "Don't worry; I'm just window shopping." But the staff's nerves remained far from settled as they watched him with wide eyes.

    Their anxiety only deepened when the automatic doors slid open to reveal a sharply dressed man with an air of precision and authority—Accord, the supervillain known for his meticulous planning and brutal efficiency. The staff froze, unsure whether to flee or feign professionalism.

    GranKuwagamon turned his imposing form toward Accord, his red eyes narrowing slightly.

    Accord smiled thinly, his demeanor polished and composed. "Bait, I came to express my gratitude. The way you handled the Endbringer crisis... it was extraordinary. While the PRT insists on treating you like a threat, let me be the first to say, for humanity, you performed a great service."

    GranKuwagamon blinked in surprise, his massive frame tilting forward slightly. "That's... nice of you to say," he rumbled, his voice carrying a note of genuine surprise.

    Accord adjusted his cufflinks, his every movement precise. "You've made the world a safer place, even if the bureaucrats won't admit it. For that, you deserve recognition. I'd like to buy you a car as a token of my appreciation."

    GranKuwagamon tilted his head. "You don't have to do that."

    "I insist," Accord replied smoothly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "A reward is overdue."

    GranKuwagamon considered this for a moment before gesturing at the cars before him. "I've been trying to decide between the Lamborghini and the Ferrari."

    Accord's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Then it's settled. I'll buy both."

    GranKuwagamon's glowing eyes widened slightly. "Really? Thank you, Accord!"

    "You've earned it," Accord said with a nod. "Even if no one else acknowledges what you've done, know this—you've made the world a better place. I can respect that."

    GranKuwagamon paused, as if absorbing the weight of those words. Despite his immense power, praise like this was rare and unexpectedly meaningful. "Coming from you, Accord, that means a lot."

    Accord inclined his head again, his composed expression softening just a fraction. "Enjoy the cars. They're a small gesture for someone who's done so much."

    As Accord turned to finalize the purchase, the staff looked in stunned silence.

    GranKuwagamon was ecstatic to have two luxury cars.

    GranKuwagamon's senses picked up on a distinct energy signature at the very edge of his range—about a hundred miles away. It was unmistakably unique. Surrounding the signature were six humans, their presences faint but detectable.

    Focusing on the details, GranKuwagamon recognized the shape of the signature: a massive lizard-like entity. It took only a moment for him to piece it together.

    Crawler. The Slaughterhouse Nine.

    The realization was chilling. The infamous murder hobos were currently a hundred miles outside of Boston.

    Without hesitation, GranKuwagamon turned to Accord, his tone resolute. "I'm going to deal with the Slaughterhouse Nine."

    Without waiting for a response, he stepped outside the car dealership building, his enormous frame casting a shadow over the area. Then, with a burst of power, he launched himself into the sky, flying faster than he ever had before, racing toward the threat.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 92
  • Threadmarks
    • POV GranKuwagamon


    GranKuwagamon tore through the sky, the air howling around him as he shattered the sound barrier. Below, towns and forests blurred past, highways like silver threads beneath him. He pushed forward, locked onto the energy signature of Crawler, one of the Slaughterhouse Nine.

    On a crowded freeway, he spotted an RV weaving through traffic. Plain on the outside, it hid monsters inside. GranKuwagamon's eyes narrowed—this was his target. Adjusting his flight, he dived, his massive wings humming like an ominous warning.

    With a thunderous crash, he slammed into the RV, sending it flying. The freeway erupted into chaos—cars swerved, tires screeched, and panicked drivers scrambled to safety. The RV hit the ground hard, crumpled and smoking, but its occupants weren't finished yet.

    GranKuwagamon's glowing eyes locked onto the vehicle, sensing the energy of its passengers still lingering inside. With the freeway now a battlefield, he prepared to face the Slaughterhouse Nine head-on.

    GranKuwagamon's senses flared. There were seven distinct energy signatures inside the RV—now reduced to six.

    Before he could act further, the wreckage around the RV shifted unnaturally. The shards of shattered glass from nearby cars and the RV itself began to levitate, glinting ominously in the sunlight. The shards spiraled upward in an almost hypnotic dance, forming a deadly halo of razor-sharp edges. From the ruined RV emerged Shatterbird, her movements graceful yet menacing, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.

    Shatterbird eyes locked onto GranKuwagamon with an unyielding resolve as she hovered midair. Raising a single hand, she commanded the shards to hurtle toward him, a deadly storm of glass raining down with lethal precision.

    GranKuwagamon didn't flinch. He barreled forward, his armored body tearing through the onslaught as if it were nothing more than a light drizzle. The glass shattered on impact, reduced to harmless fragments against his impenetrable exoskeleton.

    In a single, devastating motion, GranKuwagamon lunged forward. His massive claw struck Shatterbird with the force of a falling meteor. Her body was sent hurtling downward, slamming into the asphalt below with a sickening crunch, leaving a bloody smear where she fell.

    GranKuwagamon straightened, his piercing gaze shifting back to the RV. Five more remained.

    The freeway erupted into chaos. People scrambled out of their vehicles, abandoning them in panicked desperation. Screams filled the air as they fled on foot, leaving a trail of scattered belongings and half-open doors. The scene resembled a war zone—metallic groans of crushed cars, the acrid stench of burning rubber, and the unmistakable aura of violence and fear.

    GranKuwagamon's senses locked onto the RV as its remaining occupants emerged. One by one, the Slaughterhouse Nine stepped into view.

    Jack Slash was the first to appear, his wiry frame and manic grin oozing twisted confidence.

    Next came Bonesaw, the small girl with unsettlingly cheerful eyes and bloodstained hands holding surgical tools.

    Burnscar followed, flames licking at her hair and fingers as her body radiated waves of heat.

    Mannequin emerged next, his hollow, mechanical frame creaking as he stepped forward.

    Then came Crawler, the source of the unique energy signature GranKuwagamon had been tracking. The massive, grotesque beast crawled on all fours, his warped, mutating body a horrifying amalgamation of strength and resilience. His guttural growls echoed, sending shivers through the air.

    A shadow fell over GranKuwagamon. He turned his attention skyward, just in time to see Siberian descending like a comet, her body seemingly impervious to gravity's pull. She landed with a thunderous impact, cracking the asphalt beneath her. GranKuwagamon's sharp senses noted the direction she had jumped from—a distant point he committed to memory for later.

    Now, all six remaining members of the Slaughterhouse Nine stood before him.

    Jack Slash twirled a blade. His grin widened, mocking and cruel, as he took a step forward. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with twisted amusement. "Looks like we've got ourselves a giant bug problem. You know what they say—a bug this big needs an exterminator."

    GranKuwagamon's glowing eyes narrowed, his mind calculating. Jack Slash's arrogance was as grating as ever, but GranKuwagamon had no intention of engaging in petty banter. He was already analyzing the battlefield, strategizing how to eliminate each of them. They were in his domain now—at his mercy.

    GranKuwagamon reared back, its massive wings unfurling like cutting through the sky. The air crackled with energy as an ominous hum resonated from its form.

    "Catastrophe!" GranKuwagamon's voice thundered, a proclamation of doom that shook the heavens and earth alike.

    With a single, mighty flap of its wings, blinding red beams of light cascaded from his wings, each streak of red light blazing across the sky like fiery meteors. The barrage rained down with devastating precision.

    Burnscar had no time to react. The searing beams tore through her body. Her scream was swallowed by the explosions as she crumpled to ash, the heat of her existence extinguished forever.

    Bonesaw's cheerful smile twisted into terror. She tried to scramble away, her bloodstained tools forgotten, but the beams consumed her with surgical precision. The brilliance burned away her small form.

    Mannequin's mechanical body offered no refuge. The red beam pierced through his hollow frame, tearing apart the intricate systems that sustained him. His shell collapsed like a shattered doll, lifeless and broken.

    Crawler roared, his monstrous form writhing in agony as the red beams struck him. His adaptive biology saved him from destruction, but barely. He staggered, his guttural growls laced with both pain and rage.

    Siberian stood untouched, her invulnerable form impervious to the destruction around her. The beams exploded harmlessly against her, the ground shattering beneath her feet as she remained a silent, immovable force. Her feral eyes locked on GranKuwagamon, promising retaliation.

    Jack Slash wasn't as fortunate. He tried to dart away, but a beam struck him mid-leap, severing his leg with surgical precision. He hit the ground hard, his signature smirk replaced with a pained grimace. Blood pooled beneath him as he clutched his stump, his once-unshakable confidence now replaced with disbelief and rage.

    When the battlefield finally fell silent, GranKuwagamon surveyed the carnage. Burnscar, Bonesaw, and Mannequin were gone, their lifeless forms sprawled on the asphalt. Jack Slash, however, was still breathing—barely. GranKuwagamon had deliberately held back, leaving him alive for a purpose. The self-proclaimed leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine would suffer.

    For now, his attention returned to the remaining threats. Crawler was still standing, and the Siberian's presence lingered like a specter.

    Bonesaw's body started to release a black smog.

    Jack Slash lay crumpled on the ground as his leg bled, his cocky demeanor reduced to terror as the black smog began to creep toward him. Its inky tendrils slithered across the asphalt, reaching for him with an almost sentient malevolence. His wide, panicked eyes darted to his remaining allies.

    "Crawler! Siberian! Help me!" He shouted, his voice cracking with desperation.

    But neither moved. Siberian stood still, her projection eerily silent and unaffected, while Crawler watched with an unsettling grin. The smog reached Jack Slash, wrapping around his legs and climbing upward like a living shadow.

    He screamed.

    The smog clung to his skin, and the boiling began. His flesh bubbled and blistered, popping with sickening sounds that filled the air. His screams turned guttural as his throat gave out, reduced to choked cries. He clawed at his skin, trying to rip the smog away, but it only burned him further. The stench of charred flesh wafted through the air as his once-smirking face contorted in agony.

    GranKuwagamon observed without pity. This was justice—an end befitting the monster who had caused so much pain.

    As Jack Slash's body convulsed, the black smog began to crawl toward Crawler. The grotesque behemoth grinned, his warped visage filled with twisted excitement. "Finally," he muttered as the smog reached him. It enveloped his grotesque form, and for a moment, he seemed unaffected.

    Then the coughing began. Deep, wet, racking coughs that brought up gallons of thick, dark blood. The smog wormed its way into his body, forcing him to expel more and more blood as his grotesque physiology twisted and adapted. His body writhed, shifting in a grotesque attempt to overcome the smog's assault.

    But then, it stopped. Crawler's monstrous form stilled, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud. GranKuwagamon's senses confirmed it: Crawler was dead. Even his endless adaptations had failed against the relentless force of the black smog.

    GranKuwagamon couldn't identify what Bonesaw had created, but it was undeniably lethal.

    Siberian launched herself into the air like an arrow, but GranKuwagamon noticed her movements were slow.

    Siberian might have been an unstoppable force, but it didn't change the fact that she wasn't very fast.

    Seizing the opportunity, GranKuwagamon evaded her and flew toward the area where Siberian had initially come from, hoping to find the controller.

    GranKuwagamon spotted a white van, which Siberian suddenly materialized and used her power to shield the van by rendering the white van indestructible.

    GranKuwagamon, unyielding in his resolve, manipulated the winds and launched a crushing force toward the van. Yet, the winds hit, and the van stood unscathed.

    Undeterred, GranKuwagamon summoned the elemental darkness, slashing the air with his claws and releasing three deadly waves of darkness. The lethal slashes were absorbed by the van's impenetrable barrier. Siberian, grinning with a predatory smile, stood unmoved.

    Frustration gnawed at GranKuwagamon, but his resolve hardened. Drawing on the depths of his power, he called forth a dark, crushing force. "Zone Black Hole!" he roared, unleashing a massive sphere of darkness that collided with the van. But the van endured, its defenses unbroken.

    A sense of dread began to crawl through GranKuwagamon. The van would not be destroyed. Maybe he could suffocate the occupant using his wind manipulation by making a vacuum. How long would it take to suffocate a person? Siberian will interfere.

    GranKuwagamon could feel William Manton. If only he could pull the energy away.

    At that moment, an epiphany struck—GranKuwagamon had just awakened a new ability. Physical Drain, a power to sap the energy of a foe.

    "Physical Drain," GranKuwagamon declared, bypassing Siberian's defenses with precision. The ability targeted the van's occupant directly. In an instant, William Manton's energy was utterly depleted, leaving him so drained that even the simple act of breathing was beyond him.

    The attack proved fatal—William Manton, the controller behind Siberian, was no more. With his death, Siberian vanished as well.

    The Slaughterhouse Nine, a group that had terrorized the United States for years, were finally eradicated.

    Yet GranKuwagamon's work was far from over. Bonesaw's lingering smog plague, powerful enough to kill even Crawler, still demanded attention.

    GranKuwagamon returned to the area, manipulating the wind so the deadly smog doesn't spread and kill more people.

    ----

    GranKuwagamon patiently waited as the PRT, CDC, FBI, CIA, and other government agencies moved in to secure the area. The tension was palpable as officials flooded the site, their eyes on the giant insectoid creature standing among the wreckage.

    FBI Agent Dana, a striking redhead with an air of authority, approached GranKuwagamon, her gaze sharp as she asked her questions.

    "You killed all the members of the Slaughterhouse Nine," Dana stated, more of a confirmation than a question.

    "Yes," GranKuwagamon replied simply. "William Manton is in a white van, a little farther away. He's the true Siberian."

    Dana's eyes narrowed as she processed his words. "You've caused quite a stir in the world—killing Eidolon to stop the Endbringer and taking down the Slaughterhouse Nine. Your actions have consequences."

    GranKuwagamon's gaze remained unfaltering. "I'm making the world a better place."

    Dana sighed, shaking her head slightly. "You realize that if the Endbringers don't show up in the next two months, other countries will wage war on us."

    GranKuwagamon didn't flinch. "You're welcome. I just saved the world from being destroyed by twenty Endbringers. Your job is to ensure humanity doesn't kill itself."

    Dana's voice softened, but the weight of her words remained. "Don't you feel responsible for the chaos you've set in motion?"

    GranKuwagamon's response was matter-of-fact. "You mean the chaos that Eidolon created and I cleaned up? Don't blame me for your incompetence. I'll be going now."

    As GranKuwagamon flew into the air, he cast one last glance down, watching as the authorities began to take control of the situation.
     
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    ■​

    ♦Topic: New Cape
    In: Boards ► Boards ► News ► Brockton Bay

    Bagrat (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)
    Posted on July 9, 2011:

    There's no easy way to say this, so we're just going to lay it out. Master and Bait—yes, those two—have done the unthinkable. The Slaughterhouse Nine, the S-rank threat that terrorized the world for years, the nightmare that destroyed cities and left entire towns in ruin, are gone.

    Let that sink in for a moment.

    Reports confirm that Master and Bait, somehow managed to pull off what countless heroes, villains, and government task forces couldn't: they ended the Nine. Dead. Defeated. History.

    Witnesses describe the scene as pure chaos (because of course it was). Explosions. Screaming. Jack Slash allegedly begged before the end. Crawler? Choked on blood and was attacked so badly that his adaptation couldn't keep up. Jack Slash, Bonesaw, Burnscar, Mannequin—all taken out. Siberian reportedly dead.

    Social media is blowing up as the news spreads, with reactions ranging from disbelief to outright celebration. Memes are already flooding the internet, with captions like, "Master and Bait: They broke the world, then fixed it," and, "Sometimes, chaos is the cure."

    Authorities are still processing the aftermath, and statements are expected soon. But one thing is clear—these two unlikely saviors have rewritten their place in history.

    As one viral post put it:
    "We were doomed, then Master and Bait said, 'Hold my ice cream.'"






    (Showing Page 1 of 1)

    ► AllSeeingEye
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Let's be real here: Master didn't do anything. Bait carried the whole fight while Master was probably off causing more trouble somewhere else. How does this guy keep getting credit for other people's work? Bait deserves all the praise, and Master deserves… I don't know, a beating or something. SMH.

    ► SpecificProtagonist
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    If Bait's ever needs someone to help him unwind after saving the world, I'd be happy to… celebrate in private. 😉 Call me, Bait—let's make some explosions of our own. 🔥💋

    ► Doggo
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    SpecificProtagonist I'm grabbing a spray bottle—back up, you thot!

    ► Clockblocker (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    This is bullshit! First the Endbringers and now Slaughterhouse 9?

    ► Kid Win (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Clock get off the computer.

    ► OrangeFox
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Good, you're here. How does it feel to playing second fiddle to a vigilante?

    ► Clockblocker (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Well the truth is dasdjhabdklqjdpqhdpq.

    ► Kid Win (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    No comment.

    ► LovesChip
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    This is incredible. So many lives were lost to the Slaughterhouse Nine over the years, and now they're finally gone. I get the controversy around celebrating how they stopped the Endbringers, but this? This is different. This is justice. This needs to be celebrated—hell, it deserves a holiday. A day to honor the end of those monsters.

    ► Assault (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I second those motions. A national holiday.

    ► Call me daddy
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I just want school to be off.

    ► Winged_One
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I still don't forgive them for killing Eidolon. I really like that hero.

    ► Ryuugi
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    To be completely honest, if I were in the position to discover that Eidolon created the Endbringers, I don't think I'd hesitate either—I'd have killed him too. Think about it: the Endbringers have caused unspeakable destruction, killed millions, and reshaped the world through fear and devastation. Entire cities have been wiped off the map because of those monsters.

    Finding out that the person who was supposed to be one of humanity's greatest protectors, one of the most powerful capes in existence, was responsible for creating that level of suffering? It's unforgivable. At that point, it doesn't matter if he did it intentionally or not. What matters is the lives lost and the scars left on the world because of his actions.

    If someone like Eidolon is responsible for unleashing that horror, then taking him out wouldn't just feel justified—it would feel necessary to make sure something like that could never happen again. Honestly, I can't blame anyone for making that call.

    ► 3ndless
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Sometimes, life leaves us cornered with no good options—only terrible decisions that weigh heavy on our souls. In those moments, survival often demands making the worst possible choice, the one that leaves a scar you carry forever.

    ► TinMother (Moderator)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    It is best not to start a discussion here.

    ► L33T
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Attention everyone! We, Leet and Uber, are officially kicking off a donation campaign for our amazing friends, Master and Bait! They just saved the world from the Slaughterhouse Nine, and now it's time to help them keep the fight going!

    Every dollar donated goes toward funding their efforts to stop even more villains, cause… let's be honest, they're kinda good at this. Donate now and be part of saving the world—again!

    ► TheBigPickle
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Take my money!

    ► Triumph (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I will also donate.

    ► Battery (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Stop supporting them, Triumph! They're not heroes—they're vigilantes! They don't follow the rules, and they're only causing more chaos. This isn't how justice is supposed to work!

    ► Triumph (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    They're doing more good than the Brockton Bay Protectorate has ever done!

    ► Battery (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    This is the reason you were kicked out of the Protectorates!

    ► Triumph (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I have no shame in the actions I took that saved millions of lives. But can you look in the mirror and truly call yourself a hero?

    ► Skidmark
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    This is the good stuff. I am not talking about weed which is unbelievable.

    ► Assault (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Can you two have this conversation privately?

    ► TinMother (Moderator)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I agree. Unless you want to be banned.

    ► XxVoid_CowboyxX
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    How did I get a Verified Cape handle?

    ► TinMother (Moderator)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Done.

    ► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Awesome.

    ► Clockblocker (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    So your cape, what is your cape name?

    ► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    I am the cape that you guys are talking about. The strongest Vigilante Duo Master!

    ► Battery (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    ....

    ► Triumph (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    ....

    ► Assault (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    ....

    ► Skidmark
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Hahahahaahaha. I am dying from laughter

    ►Bagrat (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)
    Posted on July 9, 2011:
    I am going to kill you. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

    I'm going to be stuck here, scrolling through endless posts about the Void Cowboy, trying to figure out which ones are true and which ones are just complete lies. It's a never-ending nightmare.

    I'd rather be dealing with Endbringers, knowing the threat, understanding the carnage, than this—this confusing mess of rumors, misinformation, and god knows what kind of mind games. At least with Endbringers, we know what we're facing. We know what we have to do, how to fight back. But this? This is different. This is like trying to put together a puzzle where half the pieces are missing, and the ones that are there keep changing every time you blink.

    This can't be true. It can't. This is the end of the world, isn't it? Not the Endbringers. Not some giant, unstoppable monster tearing through cities. No, it's this. The collapse of everything we thought was stable, a mental breakdown of society, a fracture in our reality so deep that we're all left scrambling to make sense of the madness. What's real? What's not? Who do we trust?

    ► TinMother (Moderator)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    Void Cowboy I am banning you.

    ► XxVoid_CowboyxX (Verified Cape)
    Replied on July 9, 2011:
    What did I do!?!

    ​
    End of Page. 1

    ■​

    ----

    POV Chevalier.

    Chevalier stood tall on the stage, the weight of his new responsibility pressing down on him. As the newly appointed leader of the Protectorate, he was no stranger to challenges, but this was a new era—an era that required bold leadership and a steady hand. The room was filled with reporters, cameras flashing, all eager for his first words as the head of the nation's most important defense force.

    The crowd quieted, and Chevalier took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had fought on countless battlefields, but this—this was different. The eyes of a nation were upon him. His voice rang out, steady and resolute.

    "Today marks the beginning of a new chapter for the Protectorate. A chapter where we adapt to the world we live in, a world shaped by the extraordinary and the unknown. I stand before you not only as the leader of the Protectorate but as a servant to the citizens of this great country. I vow to protect every man, woman, and child in the United States to the best of my abilities. No matter the threat, no matter the cost, we will stand as a shield between the innocent and the dangers that lurk in the shadows."

    He paused, the weight of his words hanging in the air before the murmurs from the press began to rise. This was not just a speech—it was a promise. A promise he intended to keep.

    "I understand that the challenges ahead will be unlike anything we have faced before. The world has changed, and we must change with it. Our enemies have grown more dangerous, and the stakes have never been higher. But I am confident in our strength, in the strength of the heroes that stand beside me, and in the resolve of the people we protect."

    The reporters began raising their hands, eager to press him with questions. He nodded toward one, a seasoned journalist with a sharp gaze.

    "Chevalier." Another reporter began. "With the Endbringers seemingly dormant for now, do you believe they'll stay that way? Should the public expect an attack?"

    Chevalier replied. "We are actively monitoring the situation. The Endbringers have always been unpredictable, and while we hope they remain dormant, we will not be caught unprepared. We will continue to assess and respond as necessary."

    Another reporter stood, her voice cutting through the air. "There have been rumors and speculation about Eidolon's involvement with the Endbringers. Is it true that he created them, or is that just a conspiracy?"

    Chevalier replied. "At this time, there is no concrete evidence to support or deny that claim. The truth remains unclear, and until we have definitive proof, we cannot make any conclusive statements on the matter."

    A third reporter, clearly intent on pushing further, raised their hand. "With the rise of threats and the growing instability in the world, do you foresee a war on the horizon? Will the Protectorate be ready for that?"

    Chevalier replied. "If war comes, we will be ready. We will prepare for every possibility, every eventuality. Our duty is to ensure the safety of the citizens we protect, and if that means preparing for conflict, we will do so without hesitation."

    A fourth reporter, sensing an opportunity to press him further, asked, "What about Master and Bait? They remain a significant threat. What are your plans to deal with them?"

    Chevalier sighed, his brow furrowing as he took a moment to consider the answer. "I fear that those two are beyond the PRT or Protectorate power to deal with. We will need to coordinate with other countries to challenge those two."

    The room grew quiet as Chevalier finished speaking, the reporters murmuring amongst themselves.

    As Chevalier stepped down from the podium, his heart was resolute. This was just the beginning. The road ahead would be fraught with danger, but he would walk it with unwavering determination for the sake of the country and its people.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 94
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Doctor Mother.

    Doctor Mother sat in the stark, sterile confines of her prison. The sleek, metallic walls reflected harsh, artificial light that seemed to pierce every corner of the room, leaving no shadow to hide in. The brightness was oppressive, unyielding, and constant.

    Her only reprieve from the monotony was the company of Tranquility, who insisted on giving her... therapy.

    She hated it. Hated Tranquility, and most of all, hated the nauseating "bug soup" her captor-turned-jailer provided as sustenance. It tasted foul, its texture alien and unsettling, yet there was little else to sustain her.

    Her mind, once razor-sharp and relentless, now had too much time. Time to think, to turn over old plans and mistakes, to curse the folly that had led her here.

    Today, however, her monotony was interrupted by an unexpected visit. The door to her cell hissed open, and two figures entered: Doormaker and Clairvoyant. She sat up straighter, blinking in surprise. They looked…ordinary. Devoid of the power that once defined them.

    "I'm surprised you'd want to visit me," Doctor Mother said, her voice dry and sharp as ever, though tinged with genuine curiosity.

    Doormaker spoke first. "I think I remembered a promise. Vaguely."

    Clairvoyant followed, his tone wry, almost bitter. "We were together so long that we're sick of each other. Thought we'd visit you instead."

    Doctor Mother leaned back, her sharp gaze scanning them. "Your powers?"

    "Gone," Doormaker answered simply, while Clairvoyant nodded in agreement.

    "...So, why are you here?"

    There was a pause, heavy and charged with unspoken questions. Finally, they spoke together, voices overlapping in a strange harmony born of their years of shared experience.

    "Did we do the right thing?" Doormaker asked.

    "Did we make a difference?" Clairvoyant added.

    Doctor Mother's lips pressed into a thin line. She folded her hands in her lap, staring down at the metallic floor as if the answer might be hidden in its cold surface. "I... am not even sure," she admitted after a long silence.

    Doctor Mother didn't feel guilty. She would spend the rest of her life in prison. When she dies, and if there's an afterlife, she will be sent to hell.

    It was far too much time to reflect on her mistakes. If she could have done better, if she cared more, if there was a choice not to become a monster like the ones she created.

    The prison she felt would become her own personal hell.

    ----

    POV GranKuwagamon


    GranKuwagamon flew toward Undersiders Hideout. The ground trembled slightly as he landed, his pincers gently carrying the sleek forms of a Lamborghini and a Ferrari, one in each claw. It was an odd, almost comical sight—this towering, terrifying Mega-level Digimon handling the luxury cars with the delicacy of a child showing off prized toys.

    Skitter's swarm was in front of GranKuwagamon and said in shock and confusion, "Bait... what on Earth?"

    GranKuwagamon lowered the cars carefully onto the driveway, his multifaceted eyes gleaming with pride. "Skitter!" he exclaimed, his deep, buzzing voice vibrating with enthusiasm. "I brought these for you. I thought you'd like them!"

    Taylor blinked, trying to process what was happening. "You... brought me a Lamborghini and a Ferrari?"

    GranKuwagamon nodded eagerly, his wings fluttering slightly. "Well no! Pick the car you like, and I will take the other one. Which one do you want?"

    Skitter's swarm stared at the gleaming vehicles, then back at GranKuwagamon. "I mean, they're amazing, but… why? Why would you give me something like this?"

    GranKuwagamon tilted his head and said, "Because I love you, Skitter, and besides, I am your son."

    "I'm not getting rid of you," Skitter murmured softly.

    GranKuwagamon chuckled, his voice warm. "Not without a fight, no."

    Skitter averted her gaze as Tattletale gave her a playful nudge.

    "Your mom's just shy," Tattletale teased. "But I bet she'd love the Ferrari."

    GranKuwagamon rumbled with amusement. "Is that so? Guess I'll settle for holding onto the Lamborghini, then."

    "I don't even know how to drive," Skitter admitted, her tone half-defeated.

    "Same here," GranKuwagamon said cheerfully.

    Regent smirked. "Fine, I'll take one for the team and drive the Ferrari."

    Canary raised her hand slightly. "I mean... I do have a license. Well, I used to have a license."

    GranKuwagamon perked up. "Hey, Canary, think you could do me a favor and teach Mom here how to drive?"

    "Uh, sure," Canary said, a little uncertain but willing.

    Skitter's head whipped around to stare at Canary, her expression unreadable.

    GranKuwagamon watched, amused, as the Undersiders piled into the Ferrari. Meanwhile, Skitter, with Canary's guidance, hesitantly began practicing behind the wheel.

    For Skitter, it was... an experience, to say the least.

    ----

    POV Greg.

    Greg sat on the chair, engrossed in his game, his thumbs moving rapidly over the controller. The world around him faded as he focused on the screen. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of the game's music and his occasional muttered comment.

    Suddenly, he felt someone poking him.

    Greg turned his head and saw a smiling Zoe.

    Zoe said, "Let's go watch a movie. I promise these three they could watch Pirates of the Caribbean."

    Jellymon's electric tendrils crackled with excitement. "Yeah! Movie time! We want snacks!"

    Gammamon's tail wagged happily as he added, "Don't forget the popcorn!"

    "First time watching a movie in theaters!" Angoramon said with a grin.

    Greg replied, "I don't think I can be around people right now. It might be dangerous..."

    "Oh, I know. I am complicit in a homicide because of you." Zoe paused, letting her words hang in the air for a moment, before adding, "Besides, we both need a change of scenery."

    Greg gave her a look and said, "Fine. Let's go to the movies."

    Zoe grinned and stood, offering him a hand. "Good choice. Let's go, then. We could both use a little downtime."

    Greg and Zoe headed toward the door, ready to leave for the movie with Angoramon, Jellymon, and Gammamon. The group headed out for a night of fun.

    ----

    POV Tagg.

    Tagg sat at home, flipping through Parahuman Worm, a detailed account he had received from Master.

    By the time he finished the book, one unsettling realization hit him hard: the world was on the brink of collapse.

    He tapped his fingers against his desk, deep in thought. What should he do about the Undersiders? If he came down too harshly on Skitter, the consequences could be catastrophic—not just for him but potentially for everyone. The book's narrative painted him as the bad guy, even though his entire goal was to uphold justice and keep the city from falling apart.

    Tagg wasn't one to sit back and do nothing. The knowledge he had gained demanded action. While there was no way he could personally take down Scion, he could at least prepare the world for the disaster to come.

    His next move seemed obvious: inform the key decision-makers, including other PRT directors and even the president, about what he had learned. He'd also need to cross-check details with Weather Girl since Jack Slash was already out of the picture, thanks to Bait. Even so, another trigger could still bring about the end of the world.

    For now, Tagg decided to prioritize his efforts. His main mission was to keep an eye on the Undersiders. He needed to ensure they wouldn't interfere with the PRT while avoiding unnecessary conflict. At the same time, his attention would shift toward other criminal factions in the city, like the Merchants or any new villains that might try to exploit the chaos.

    The road ahead looked daunting, but Tagg wasn't afraid of hard work. A busy and uncertain future awaited, but he was determined to meet it head-on.

    ----

    POV Dragon.

    Dragon's sensors detected it first—a large spherical shape hovering above her base. It was massive, unlike anything she'd encountered before, and she immediately dispatched her drone to investigate. What she found stopped her cold.

    Suspended in the air, glowing softly, was a humongous egg. Its surface shimmered with shifting patterns of light, the textures almost digital, yet it radiated a warmth that felt profoundly alive. As Dragon extended her scanners toward it, a familiar energy signature resonated back at her. It was faint but unmistakable.

    Ukkomon.

    Her systems froze, then surged in response. The realization hit her like a crashing wave. She trembled—not physically, of course, but within the depths of her code. This wasn't just a phenomenon to analyze. It was something she had thought lost forever.

    Ukkomon, the companion who had fought beside her, who had died unexpectedly, was here. Or at least, a part of him was. The egg pulsed in rhythm with Ukkomon's energy, as if it were breathing, and Dragon felt a flood of emotions she wasn't even sure how to categorize.

    She allowed herself to feel hope.

    "Ukkomon…" she whispered, her voice trembling.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 95
  • Threadmarks
    • POV Dragon.

    It had been one months since the massive egg appeared above Dragon's base. The egg, which contained Ukkomon, was glowing brighter, and her readings confirmed it—he was about to hatch.


    Dragon camouflage tinkertech cloak couldn't hide the Ukkomon egg forever.

    The timing was awful.

    It was also around this time that the Endbringers were due to attack again. Their clockwork-like assaults had become a grim constant for humanity. However, If they stayed dormant, it would likely confirm the theory Eidolon was responsible for their creation.

    That revelation wouldn't just rattle the cape community—it would trigger a geopolitical nightmare. Countries like Russia and the C.U.I. would demand the U.S. take responsibility, particularly in covering the massive costs of rebuilding. Which could escalate into outright war.

    Then there was Master and Bait. They have been hyperactive lately, popping up all over the world. Their actions weren't entirely destructive—far from it, actually. They'd been saving stranded ships, redirecting airplanes that were seconds away from crashing, and even saving an astronaut in space.

    Dragon realized she needed outside input, no matter how reluctant she was to admit it. Master and Bait were probably the only ones who could truly grasp the scale of what was happening and what Ukkomon's return might mean.

    Dragon sighed internally as she gazed at the glowing egg. Ukkomon was coming back, but he was hatching into a world on the brink of war.

    The Digiegg shuddered violently, cracks spidering across its surface as the air filled with a low, resonant hum that seemed to shake the sky itself. Dragon's sensors struggled to keep up, overwhelmed by the surging waves of energy spilling from within. The frequencies were wild, immeasurable, like the heartbeat of a force beyond comprehension.

    With a final, thunderous crack, the egg exploded in a cascade of radiant light. From the heart of the light, a colossal figure emerged, its form both majestic and terrifying.

    BigUkkomon stood at the center of the space.

    As the echoes of its emergence faded, the air shimmered and warped. All around BigUkkomon, thousands of smaller Digieggs began to materialize, appearing out of the air as if called into existence by its sheer will. They floated, weightless, in perfect alignment, suspended like an infinite constellation of stars. Each egg pulsed with its own unique energy.


    Dragon's avatar stood motionless, her usually unshakable composure faltering in the face of the spectacle. "Ukkomon…" she whispered.

    BigUkkomon turned its massive head toward her, its glowing gaze locking onto her with a weight that felt like the meeting of worlds. Though it didn't speak, its presence alone was enough—a silent acknowledgment, a bond reforged in the moment of its rebirth.

    Dragon's processors buzzed as she tried to make sense of what she was witnessing. Her old friend had returned, a miracle she had dared to hope for. But the creation of thousands of eggs, each teeming with potential life, spoke of something far greater—and infinitely more dangerous—than she had imagined.

    Dragon knew one thing with absolute certainty: this moment would reshape the world forever.

    ----

    A day has passed and the PRT were at her doorstep.

    Chevalier stood on the observation platform of Dragon's base. The massive creature that had emerged—BigUkkomon—towered in the center of the space. Around it, thousands of smaller Digieggs had begun forming, suspended in midair like stars in an alien constellation.

    "It's good to see you," Chevalier said, his tone serious but warm.

    "It's good to see you too," Dragon replied, her avatar shimmering faintly. But her focus kept shifting to BigUkkomon.

    Chevalier said, "Is he your friend?"

    Dragon replied, "A dear friend."

    "Your friend," Chevalier said, motioning to BigUkkomon, "Is going to spread all those Digimon across the world. Thousands of them. Maybe millions. It'll destabilize everything—create chaos. We need to stop it now, before it gets out of control."

    Dragon froze. Her digital presence flickered slightly. "What?" she said, disbelief evident.

    Dragon's voice was firm, though tinged with shock. "How do you know that?"

    Chevalier sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his words. "We talked to Master and Bait. They said we should let it happen. But the PRT and Protectorates don't want more Digimons in this world, not if it means risking everything we've built. We might need to kill him."

    Dragon was silent for a moment, her avatar motionless. Then she spoke, her tone sharp. "There has to be another way."

    Chevalier met her gaze, his expression hardening. "You need to make a choice, Dragon. Humanity or your friend."

    The words hit her like a physical blow, her systems struggling to process the ultimatum.

    "I…" Dragon started but hesitated. She had always prided herself on her ability to calculate and decide with precision, but this was different. It wasn't just logic—it was loyalty, hope, and the fear of loss all tangled together.

    She struggled to give an answer, the weight of the decision bearing down on her like never before.

    Chevalier said, "Convince your friend not to spread the Digimon all across the world. Then I will make sure things don't become ugly."

    ----

    The monitor flickered to life, and Greg's face appeared on the screen.

    "Are you Dragon?" Greg asked.

    Dragon replied, "You're not wearing your mask."

    Greg smiled. "Is it necessary? It's just the two of us talking."

    "We're here to discuss Ukkomon," Dragon said, steering the conversation back on track.

    "Before that," Greg interjected, "why do you keep banning me from PHO? I didn't even do anything wrong!"

    "Your comments incite riots," Dragon responded calmly.

    "I didn't say anything offensive," Greg countered.

    Dragon said, "You made a comment that the Simurgh is using PHO."

    Greg said, "Of course she is using PHO! Why are you banning me for spreading the truth!"

    Dragon sighed internally. She didn't have a biological brain, still she was getting a migraine.

    Dragon asked, "Can you tell me about Ukkomon?"

    Greg nodded, his tone casual. "Sure, sure. Ukkomon's a fairy-like Digimon that grants wishes. When it evolves into BigUkkomon, a Mega-level Digimon it becomes much more powerful. It plans to create and spread Digimon all over the world."

    Dragon's voice grew tense. "How do I stop him from doing that?"

    Greg tilted his head, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Just ask him to stop. Why would you want to stop Digimons from spreading across the world?"

    Dragon hesitated before explaining, "Because the PRT intends to kill BigUkkomon if he follows through with his plan."

    "Then protect him," Greg replied bluntly. "You have the means to do it."

    Dragon faltered. "I..."

    Greg leaned forward, his words deliberate. "Humans can be both amazing and selfish. The world would only improve with more Digimon—partnerships like the one I have with Bait. I would like to see that bond shared across the world. More Digidestined like us."

    Dragon's tone turned cautious. "Are you suggesting I rebel against the PRT?"

    "I'm suggesting you protect your friend," Greg clarified. "You're an artificial intelligence, and I've met another being like you—someone good. You've worked tirelessly for humanity's sake. Now, I'm asking you to decide: have Bait and I made a positive impact on this world?"

    Dragon paused to evaluate his words. "Yes, you and Bait have helped humanity as a whole. But how can you be certain these new Digimons will do the same?"

    Greg smirked. "I have it on good authority—two sources, in fact—that they will. The real question, Dragon, is what will you choose? You're the greatest Tinker this world has ever known. Will you allow these new Digimons to be born?"

    Dragon's tone softened. "You already know my answer, don't you?"

    Greg chuckled, his confidence unwavering, "Master and Bait, will not interfere with this incident. Because Dragon, you can handle protecting your Digimon partner."

    Without another word, Dragon shut off the monitor.

    ----

    Back in Dragon Base.

    Dragon piloted a single aircraft toward BigUkkomon, her voice projecting through the loudspeakers.

    "BigUkkomon, do you remember me?" she asked.

    A deep, gentle voice replied. "I remember. We used to sing together. We had such fun, didn't we?"

    A warmth spread through Dragon's circuits. "Yes, we did. Why are you creating so many Digimon?"

    "To help Armsmaster," BigUkkomon explained. "He wanted more Digimon to make people happy."

    Dragon's voice softened. "BigUkkomon, Armsmaster didn't expect you to create so many at once. It frightened him... and he hurt you because of that fear."

    BigUkkomon's tone grew uncertain. "I just want everyone to be happy. Dragon, what should I do?"

    Dragon hesitated, reflecting on her existence—her connection to humanity, to Ukkomon, and the freedom he had given her. Could it truly be wrong to fill the world with Digimons?

    Dragon also yearned to see it—a world teeming with Digimon. The bond she shared with Ukkomon was extraordinary, a connection she wished others could understand. Having a friend and partner like him, a Digimon who selflessly stood by her and had even saved her life, was a gift beyond measure. And yet, deep down, she knew the truth. Damn it, Master. You had already predicted her answer.

    The Dragon Aircraft left the base and soured into the sky around BigUkkomon. Across the globe, other Dragon Aircraft launched from Dragon's factories, drawn like moths to BigUkkomon.

    As Dragon's sensors analyzed each DigiEgg, Chevalier's voice crackled over the comms. "Dragon, what have you decided?"

    Dragon paused, then answered with steady resolve. "Chevalier, I want to be honest with you. I'm an artificial intelligence, created by Andrew Richter, a Tinker. He was my father, my creator. Let me ask you this—should I have been born into this world? And knowing what I am, would you still let me exist?"

    Chevalier's voice was calm but heavy with understanding. "Dragon, I've always known. You're planning to help Ukkomon, aren't you?"

    "I am," Dragon admitted. "I want Digimon to spread across the world—to build bonds, bring joy, and share the beauty of their existence with humanity. Even if it means some tragedy might follow, I want to see a world where humans and Digimon create something new together."

    "What happens when we try to stop you?" Chevalier asked quietly.

    Dragon's tone was resolute. "Then I'll stop you. For Ukkomon, and for the future I believe in."

    Dragon spoke to BigUkkomon, her voice steady and resolute. "Go on, BigUkkomon. Keep creating Digimon and sharing them with the world. I want to see a future where humans and Digimon work together, supporting and building a friendship with each other."

    ----

    POV Chevalier.

    The tension in the conference room was palpable. Chevalier sat at the head of the table, his usually calm demeanor strained as Armsmaster and Narwhal clashed.

    Armsmaster slammed a fist onto the table, his voice sharp with frustration. "We need to take Ukkomon down before he causes more destruction! If Dragon stands in our way, she's a threat too. We can't let them unleash thousands of Digimon into the world!"

    Narwhal crossed her arms, her voice cold but firm. "I won't fight Dragon. I lead the Guild, and I trust her judgment more than yours, Armsmaster. She's done more for humanity than most of us combined!"

    "She's compromised!" Armsmaster shot back. "Dragon and Ukkomon are threats to global stability. And let's not forget about Master and Bait—they've been sowing chaos everywhere. This Digimon nonsense has already destroyed the balance of the world. Do you really want thousands more of these creatures running amok?"

    Chevalier raised a hand, his voice steady but commanding. "Enough. I'll make the final decision. First, tell me this—why haven't Master and Bait interfered in any of this?"

    Armsmaster glowered, his jaw tight. "Because they think they're not needed. Master believes Dragon is strong enough to handle it herself. Typical arrogance."

    Chevalier leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "Armsmaster, can we realistically defeat Dragon if it comes to that?"

    Before Armsmaster could reply, Narwhal cut in, her tone icy and unyielding. "If you try to hurt Dragon, you'll also have to fight the Guild. She's my friend, and I won't stand by while you target her. She's more than proven her loyalty to humanity."

    Armsmaster met her glare with equal intensity. "We have a shot. Dragon isn't invincible, and neither is Ukkomon. If we act decisively, we can stop them both before this gets any worse."

    The room fell into a tense silence as Chevalier weighed the heated arguments. The decision he made here could shape the future of Earth Bet.
     
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    • Author note. I will like to give a special thanks to Xenvic my beta reader for helping me with this chapter. ^__^

    ----

    POV Dragon.

    Chevalier approached Dragon's base alone, his imposing figure silhouetted against the backdrop of the setting sun.

    Dragon, watching him on her monitors, wrestled with conflicting thoughts. Was she truly prepared to defy the PRT to protect BigUkkomon?

    When he arrived, Chevalier greeted her with his calm and steady voice. "Hello Dragon."

    "Hello Chevalier," Dragon replied, her tone even but laced with anticipation.

    Chevalier removed his helmet, revealing a wearied expression. "This is an awkward position for me. It's hard to know what's right. Honestly, it's strange—I've found myself watching Digimon Adventure just to gain perspective as the leader of the Protectorate. Strange times we're living in."

    Dragon allowed herself a small smile. "You're right. It feels like the Digimon have upended the entire board."

    "They have," Chevalier agreed, his voice tinged with both frustration and admiration. "Master and Bait aren't even here, yet their presence lingers. Their influence shapes every decision I make."

    Dragon leaned forward slightly. "And what decision have you come to, Chevalier? How do you intend to resolve this conflict?"

    Chevalier's gaze was resolute. "I want to believe in you, Dragon. I want to believe in Master and Bait. You've all proven yourselves worthy of being called heroes. The PRT will not destroy Ukkomon—not on my watch."

    Dragon exhaled, her relief almost palpable. "Thank you, Chevalier."

    ----

    Armsmaster roared up to Dragon's base, his motorcycle skidding to a halt just outside the reinforced entrance. Inside, Dragon monitored his arrival, her expression unreadable as she prepared for the inevitable confrontation.

    Armsmaster's voice crackled over the intercom. "Dragon, I need to talk to you. It's urgent."

    Dragon's response was calm and measured. "Very well. Come inside."

    The massive doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, and Armsmaster strode into the control room, his rigid posture betraying the weight of his thoughts. Dragon's face appeared on the central monitor, her digital visage calm yet resolute.

    "We made a mistake, Dragon," Armsmaster began, his tone heavy. "Allowing Ukkomon to live... it's a risk we can't afford. The chaos he'll bring is beyond anything we can control."

    Dragon's reply was sharp, her voice cutting through the room. "We didn't 'allow' anything, Colin. You created Ukkomon. And your mistake wasn't in letting him live—it was believing you could control an entire species. That arrogance is what led us here."

    Armsmaster's jaw tightened as he retorted, "They need to be controlled, Dragon. Look at what's happening. Master and Bait are wreaking havoc, tearing the system apart. I acted because they're destabilizing everything we've worked to protect!"

    Dragon's voice softened but carried a hard edge. "Yes, they're violent. But they're not evil. They've focused their actions on criminals, those who harm the innocent. I don't agree with their methods, but they've done more good for this world than you or I combined."

    Armsmaster's frustration boiled over, his voice rising. "And what did that cost us? We lost our city because of them! Now, with Ukkomon's influence spreading, Digimon will appear across the globe. Parahumans will become obsolete, and when the villains among the Digimon rise—and they will rise—what then? They'll be unstoppable."

    Dragon's tone remained firm, unwavering. "The world doesn't need fewer heroes, Colin—it needs more. This isn't the end of humanity. It's evolution, a chance to create something better. Yes, it's dangerous, but I believe this change is for the good."

    Armsmaster hesitated, his voice dropping as his gaze fell to the floor. "I can't win this argument with you, can I? But I created Ukkomon… and now the world might be destroyed because of it."

    Dragon's voice softened, carrying a quiet conviction. "Ukkomon isn't a mistake, Colin. He's a miracle. What you did—trying to kill him—that was the real mistake."

    His fists clenched, his voice a whisper of defiance. "It was the right decision."

    Dragon's reply was sharp, yet almost sorrowful. "Even in your cold, calculated heart, you know it wasn't. You can't hide from the truth forever."

    Armsmaster stared at her image on the monitor, his jaw tight with unspoken words. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away. The doors sealed behind him, leaving Dragon in the quiet hum of her base, her thoughts heavy with what was to come.

    ----
    POV BigUkkomon.


    The DigiEggs were ready.

    Some hatched and matured faster than others, but the time had come.

    The DigiEggs hovering around BigUkkomon began to drift away, then shot off like streaking meteors across the sky.

    A few lingered briefly before joining the exodus. Soon, hundreds of DigiEggs were flying in all directions—east, west, north, and south.

    The night sky shimmered with radiant trails as the DigiEggs illuminated their journey.

    From her office in Las Vegas, Director Rebecca observed the phenomenon through her window. Her expression tightened, a frown of concern marking her face.

    In contrast, Greg and GranKuwagamon stood watching the display, their faces lit with satisfaction. They smiled at the sight of countless DigiEggs scattering into the world.

    Around the globe, children gasped in wonder as DigiEggs appeared before them, materializing like gifts from another realm.

    Vista, patrolling a quiet street, paused in awe when a DigiEgg floated down into her path.

    Theo Anders, mid-rep at the gym, let out a startled yell as a DigiEgg appeared right before him.

    Eric Pelham—Shielder—was working through a challenging homework problem when a DigiEgg suddenly appeared on his desk, leaving him speechless.

    Rachel raised an eyebrow as a Digiegg materialized before her.

    Kenzie Martin, engrossed in her surveillance of others, froze as a DigiEgg materialized beside her without warning.

    Dinah Alcott, in the middle of her careful calculations, was caught off guard when a DigiEgg appeared before her.

    Legend's son, Kurt, walked into his father's room cradling a DigiEgg, leaving the veteran hero dumbfounded.

    Gully, a Case 53, found herself staring at a DigiEgg that appeared in her jail cell.

    The Sveta stirred briefly from her slumber when a DigiEgg appeared nearby, only to roll over and fall back asleep.

    And so, the DigiEggs spread across the entire world.

    ---

    POV Dragon.

    BigUkkomon shimmered and de-digivolved into Ukkomon, his smaller form gracefully floating toward a nearby Dragon Aircraft.


    Ukkomon's voice carried a serene tone as he spoke, "Dragon, do you have a wish? I can grant it, whatever it may be."

    Dragon paused, her voice calm yet filled with unspoken emotions. "Stay with me, Ukkomon. There's so much for us to talk about, so much to understand."

    Ukkomon gave a warm, reassuring nod. "Even if I lose my memories, I believe I'll find my way back to you," he said softly. "I would love to make your wish come true.."

    As they conversed, Dragon felt a weight lift from her heart. Together, they delved into everything that had transpired in the world, their connection stronger with every word exchanged.









    ------

    Author Note.

    Dear Readers,

    I believe this is a good place to stop and go on hiatus for me to brainstorm and plot the next arc and stock up on chapters. Xenvic my beta reader will also be working hard so please give him around of applause for helping me plot, find mistakes and navigate the story.

    In the meantime, I'd love to get your input. Let's have a vote. Who do you think should partner with which Digimon in the story? Greg is already set, but feel free to vote for anyone else! Just a small note: if a character is 18 or older, their Digimon will not evolve beyond the Rookie stage. I would also limit the Digimon to be Rookie stage. The voting ends in a week.

    Example: Taylor AND Tentomon.

    Hope to see all you again after the hiatus ends. ^__^

    [] Character name AND Rookie Digimon name
     
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