The Celestianites raised their spears high, armor flashing under the divine light slicing through the swirling clouds. Thunder cracked. Lightning tore jagged scars across the sky, reflecting off golden towers that groaned under cracks like veins. Below, the streets were soaked in blood. Fallen Lunaranites lay twisted and lifeless, wings shredded, bodies steaming from the searing energy of their own demise. Their souls had already fled.
Blue light split the clouds above—Celestial Pillars awakening, divine energy slicing downward like warning spears. Then the storm hit again. Fake Lunaranites and nightmare beasts dove from the sky, shrieking like falling meteors. Jaylen's fists clenched, knuckles whitening, wings battered and dripping. He glanced at Duke, whose silhouette towered over the battered crew, green-black energy coiling around him like living lightning.
"I'm sorry," Jaylen whispered. Duke gave a firm nod. "Go. Survive." With a war cry, Jaylen shot forward, leaving violet streaks in his wake. The crew followed—flipping, dodging, punching through waves of mechanical alien birds whose cannons spat molten bolts. Dirt, debris, and broken stone exploded like confetti under each impact.
Duke pivoted, eyes narrowing at Overbrawl and Krane. Krane cracked his knuckles; violet spiritual energy raced across his arms in arcs like lightning frozen in flesh. Overbrawl casually dropped Olsen and his axe to the ground, his crimson flames licking the edges of the streets. Olsen bolted after the crew, axe in hand, voice ringing: "DON'T SELL!"
"You realize you're weaker without that fancy watch, right?" Overbrawl said casually. Krane grinned. "Even without it, I'm still nearly king-tier." Duke stretched, cracking his neck, energy pulsing around him like neon fire.
"So… we throwing hands?" Krane laughed, dark and dangerous. "Worst idea you've ever had."
"Maybe," Duke said, eyes blazing, "but it's about to be your worst day." He pointed, and the air seemed to snap around him. Overbrawl lit his fists in roaring crimson flames, and Krane's arms ignited with fire and spiritual energy, veins of violet lightning coursing up to his shoulders.
"I don't wanna hurt you, kid. But if you're asking for a beatdown, Grandpa's gonna deliver old-school."
"YOU'RE MESSING WITH THE WRONG ONE!" Duke's green-black aura erupted, fists tightening, energy crackling like a live wire. The air trembled.
Then — BOOM — Duke shot forward like a green missile. His fist slammed into Krane's chest, sending him rocketing backward, streets and clouds erupting with shockwaves. Sparks licked the broken towers around them. Before Duke could recover, BAM! Overbrawl slammed him mid-air, tossing him through shattered golden skyscrapers. Walls exploded, debris raining like neon sparks.
Duke flipped, jets blazing, rockets propelling him back. He tackled Overbrawl mid-air, smashing them into the streets. Fists collided mid-air, neon sparks bursting with each strike. Duke twisted, dragging Overbrawl in a spiraling arc, smashing both through a massive skyscraper that split clean in half. He landed, skidding across the streets, leaving glowing streaks.
Krane surged, flames licking his boots, launching a fire-laden punch. Duke blocked, spun, backhanded — CRACK! — sending Krane crashing like a ragdoll through flaming rubble. Duke wasn't done; he rocketed after Krane, kicking him across mountains, rock spires, and broken towers. The city groaned under the devastation.
Silence fell, then a low rumble. An orange explosion shot toward Duke. BOOM! Buildings disintegrated under its force. Through the inferno, Duke stood unscathed, glowing neon. He spun into a tornado of energy, tackled Overbrawl mid-air, throwing him down like a meteor, dust and debris spiraling violently.
Roundhouse kicks collided — BOOM! — neon green and dark orange shockwaves ripping streets apart. Duke unleashed a flurry of rapid punches, ending in an uppercut that sent him skyward. Krane intercepted mid-air; Overbrawl slammed into his chest — the impact fractured the heavens. Krane teleported behind, striking his skull; Duke spiraled, cyclones of neon energy forming around him.
SLAM — a neon orb pulsed, detonating in raw power. "NEON ABSENCE!" Lightning tendrils wrapped Krane, swung him into Overbrawl like a wrecking ball, then — "BLITZING SMASH!!" — FLASH! The void around them shattered, clouds collapsing, air quaking. KRAKOOM! Both villains plummeted, meteoric, crashing into the ground and leveling everything around them.
Silence. The storm stopped. Smoke, dust, neon sparks hung frozen in the air. Duke stood at the center, battered but unbroken, chest heaving. His eyes scanned the Pre-Heroes sprinting toward the Room of Zeniths — Olsen, Prince, Demaurion, Archie, Ella, Eli — leaving streaks of neon trails across the streets. A smirk cut across his bloodied face.
He whispered, barely audible over the quiet: "Go get 'em… kids."
***
The silence of space wrapped around us like a noose. Me and Dark Don faced off, energy roaring between us, our auras flaring so bright the stars looked scared to blink. Lunar dust swirled at our feet. Earth hung in the distance like a blue witness who did not want smoke with either of us.
Dark Don's eyes locked onto mine — glowing, hollow, sharp enough to slice through a meteor. His aura didn't flare; it thrummed, steady, controlled, like a wildfire that knew exactly where it wanted to burn.
The dude looked like a walking eclipse. A cosmic disaster with abs.
I raised my stance. He lowered his.
Then he… turned away from me.
Like I wasn't even worth the warmup.
My tail twitched. "Uh, hello? We're literally mid-boss fight—"
BOOM.
He stomped the moon like it insulted his mother. The ground spider-webbed under him, dust exploding upward in silver waves. He didn't even flinch. He just stared at his own hand, fingers curling like he was crushing a memory that wouldn't die.
"Dark Don," I warned, "are you—"
"I wasn't from Earth."
His voice dropped low. Steady. Controlled. The kind of voice dangerous people use when they're two seconds away from breaking the world in half.
Instantly, my guard froze.
Not lowered.
Just… paused.
He didn't turn fully toward me — only enough that I could see one eye, glowing against the void like a dying star.
"I lived on Planet Night," he said. "Storms. Shadows. No sun. And everyone there—dragons. Like me. Except…" His jaw clenched. "I had silver scales."
His aura flickered. Not weak. Not sad.
Just… leaking truth he clearly hated remembering.
"I was eight. A scientist. Smarter than every adult on that planet." He said it like a fact, not a brag. "I built things that could save worlds. They called them biohazards. Called me a criminal. Hunted me."
He breathed in — sharp, annoyed — like remembering was a chore he wanted to punch.
"Silicia was my assistant."
A pause.
"A genius. Stronger than me in all the ways that matter. We planned to leave Planet Night. Together." Air around him tightened, like even space was listening.
"We escaped. Got shot down. Crash-landed in Avangard. Iris Town." His lip curled — not sad, but bitter, like the memory tasted like blood. "Scientists found us. Angel was one of them."
BOOOOM.
Another stomp.
Another crater forming under him. "I enrolled in Foreshade Academy. Wanted to command under Dreadixz. Wanted to be someone people respected instead of hunted." His voice dropped colder. "But they laughed. Called us aliens. Mocked Silicia." His fists tightened, lunar sparks crawling up his arms like silver lightning veins.
"I didn't talk. I fought. Hard. Anyone who crossed us paid."
His head lifted slightly. "Silicia was the only one who could calm me. Told me violence wasn't everything."
A scoff. "She was wrong. But I still tried… for her."
I felt something twist in my stomach. He still hadn't fully faced me. Like turning around was too vulnerable.
"When we turned eleven, the Celestianite Scouts found us. Thought we were Lunaranites." His teeth gritted. "We ran. She carried me. I transformed small to trick them."
He inhaled — sharp. Controlled. Like a blade being sheathed with shaking hands.
"She hid me under leaves… and I watched them stab her through the throat."
Finally — finally — he turned to face me fully. His aura surged, towering, cold, godlike. "The first word I ever spoke," he said, voice low as the void,
"was her name."
His Ultra Form ignited, silver power ripping out of him like a storm unleashed.
"You want to know why I hate Celestianites, Don?" he growled, stepping closer. "It's because of YOUR tribe. YOUR people. YOUR legacy."
He was accusing me with the precision of a man who'd been sharpening that hatred for years.
"I've slaughtered planets because of what they did. Because of what YOU represent."
His body trembled — not weakly, but like he was physically holding back from leveling the whole moon.
"The Lunaranites weren't the villains," he said, eyes burning white.
"They were the only ones who took me in."
His breath hitched — barely.
Almost unnoticeable.
But enough.
"She loved me," he said.
No shame.
No softness.
Just truth.
Raw. Heavy. Unfiltered.
"And I loved her too."
My heartbeat went insane.
My stance faltered.
My hands shook, because this wasn't just a monster.
This was a mirror of everything I could've been.
"Dark Don… we can fix this," I whispered.
His laugh was low. Dangerous.
Like a blade sliding across ice.
"Never."
A massive Lunar sword manifested in his hand, silver lightning crawling across the blade like living rage.
"You'll never understand," he growled, stepping forward, aura surging like a tidal wave. "Your people killed the only thing I cared about."
He raised the sword, eyes cold and furious and heartbreakingly real.
"So now I'm gonna destroy the thing THEY care about most."