The dojo was too quiet.
Danny felt it the moment he woke—if he could even call it waking. His dreams had been nothing but stars collapsing and reforming, wings of gold stretching across a void, and a deep rumble that felt like the universe's heartbeat syncing with his.
He opened his eyes.
Golden fire flickered across his vision for an instant before fading.
His breath rippled the air.
Every sound seemed louder.
Every scent sharper.
Every heartbeat in a three-mile radius detectable if he focused.
Stage II Ascension wasn't just altering him.
It was rewriting everything.
Kael'ar sat perched above the courtyard gate, feathers shimmering with soft dawn colors.
"You slept," the Phoenix whispered. "That is good."
Danny slowly pushed himself upright. "Not sure 'slept' is the right word."
"Your body rested," Kael'ar clarified. "Your flame did not."
Danny flexed his hand.
For a moment, his fingers stretched—longer than human—scaled lightly in shimmering gold before retracting and returning to normal.
He froze.
Kael'ar nodded calmly.
"That is Stage II. Instinct emerging. Your essence tries on shapes without waiting for permission."
Danny swallowed hard. "Is it dangerous?"
Kael'ar tilted their head. "To you? Yes. To anyone near you? Also yes."
Danny groaned. "Perfect."
Kael'ar offered a warm smile. "You will learn control. But not here."
Danny looked up sharply. "What do you mean not here?"
"The tournament begins in less than a day," Kael'ar said. "Your body and flame must be tested under pressure. You grow the most when the world demands more of you than you wish to give."
A pulse of unease throbbed through Danny's chest—his flame responding to the thought of the tournament.
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself.
"Okay. Where do we start?"
Kael'ar's wings extended slowly, radiant and huge.
"We start by reminding the sun how to rise."
They leapt into the air with Danny following in a streak of gold.
Swift felt the change too.
The moon above the waterfall should have faded with dawn, but it refused—hanging in the sky like a silver eye watching him. Its glow intensified each time Swift exhaled.
He sat in the center of the dojo's training hall, staff across his lap, silver chi swirling around him in gentle waves.
At first, it was soft.
Calm.
Cool.
Then it shifted into something sharper, like moonlight turning to steel.
Master Oro watched carefully.
"You are close."
Swift kept breathing, softer this time. His chi responded automatically, rising and falling like a tide. His staff floated above his palms without him touching it.
"What happens when I complete Moonform?" Swift asked quietly.
Oro answered without hesitation.
"You will no longer think in lines, only arcs. Your movements will flow without effort. Gravity will treat you differently. Light will obey you."
Swift exhaled slowly. "That sounds… beautiful."
"And heavy," Oro added. "Moonform is gentle power. But gentle does not mean weak. Gentle means restrained. Kindness under tension. Balance under pressure."
Swift nodded.
He opened his eyes.
His pupils had turned silver.
A crescent shape glowed faintly behind him, silver and soft—but growing.
Moonform was coming.
And he would be ready.
Jake woke up by accidentally throwing himself five feet into the air.
He landed on his back with a crash that cracked the ground beneath him.
"OW—! WHY?!"
Sedge Hat floated above him, beard shimmering like a wizardly waterfall.
"Oh ho! Core flare! Very nice!"
Jake groaned. "You could warn me!"
"Warn? Of natural growth? Impossible!" Sedge Hat giggled.
Jake pushed himself upright.
His arms were glowing again—bronze light pulsing under his skin like magma veins. His shoulders were broader. His heartbeat felt heavier.
"What's happening? Am I… close?"
Sedge Hat nodded. "The Titan Core awakens when body meets earth and refuses to break. You are close… oh ho, very close! But beware!"
"Beware what?" Jake demanded.
"That your heart does not harden as well."
Jake blinked. "My… heart?"
Sedge Hat twirled.
"Bronze Dragons feel deeply. Titans even more so. If your emotions erupt inside the Core, you will collapse inward."
Jake swallowed.
"So I need to stay… calm?"
"Oh ho no!" Sedge Hat cackled. "Titan Dragons are never calm!"
Jake stared.
"Then what do I—"
"Balance!" Sedge Hat announced dramatically. "Between passion and power!"
Jake rubbed his face. "This is so much harder than punching rocks."
Then he glanced at the cracked ground behind him.
"But also… kind of cool."
Sedge Hat nodded proudly.
"You will be a glorious mess at the tournament."
Jake groaned.
The Wolf King felt all of this happening.
Every rise of chi.
Every stir of dragon flame.
Every ripple through the dimensional currents.
Danny's awakening pressured the air.
Swift's balance smoothed it.
Jake's power thickened it.
And the Wolf King drank it all in like a starving beast smelling prey.
He stood atop a massive floating shard of rock, watching the Buddies from afar. The air behind him steamed with the heat of his flames. His hybrids crouched around him—low, predatory, restless.
Shadeclaw knelt.
"My king… the truce holds. But the Buddies strengthen their defenses. And the golden flame grows brighter."
The Wolf King's claws flexed.
"Then let the truce end quietly."
Shadeclaw tensed. "My king—are we attacking?"
"No," the Wolf King said darkly. "We will not break the truce."
Shadeclaw exhaled in relief—
"Something else will."
Shadeclaw stiffened.
The Wolf King pointed to two hybrids clad in Dark Buddy armor—sleek, silent, their claws glowing green.
"Release them into the Rift's lower tunnels. Let them strike the stabilizers. Let the dimension tremble. Let Jimmy believe the Rifts themselves turned against him."
The hybrids bowed and vanished into the shadows.
Shadeclaw whispered:
"And when the Buddies panic?"
The Wolf King grinned.
"We watch."
Flames curled around him like a cloak.
"And when the truce breaks of its own accord…
we hunt."
Bones watched the Wolf King through a thin slit in reality, amused.
"Predictable," he murmured. "Hunters cannot help themselves."
He drifted toward the largest sealing stone. Its surface rippled with angry light as it sensed his intent.
"You shake for him… but you tremble for the Golden Dragon."
The stone pulsed.
Bones raised a skeletal hand, and the void crackled.
"My newest agent will ensure the tournament begins… beautifully wrong."
A figure stepped out of the shadows behind him—its form sharp, shifting, humanoid but fractured. Its body was made of broken reflections and distortions, as if a being had been stitched together from the cracks in mirrors.
Bones touched its shoulder.
"Go to the tournament arena. Hide beneath the stage. When the signal comes…"
His smile sharpened.
"Break everything."
The agent bowed silently and vanished.
Bones turned toward the distant golden pulse.
"Let creation rise," he whispered. "Destruction is patient."
Magic Kid popped into existence outside the Celestial Arena with a chaotic burst of confetti and probably-illegal fire.
He gasped dramatically.
"Oooooh! It's SO shiny!"
The Celestial Arena floated like a jewel on an invisible ocean—towering spires of starlight, crystalline platforms, swirling energy currents wrapping the entire structure like ribbons. Sigils burned across the outer walls, humming in a dozen languages.
Magic Kid put his hands on his hips.
"I'm gonna cause SO much trouble here."
He strode forward—then tripped.
A lightning bolt shot upward from the ground.
Magic Kid hopped back, hair smoking slightly.
"OHHH! A defensive grid! Fun!"
A panel lit up:
ACCESS DENIED.
TOURNAMENT OPENS IN 24 HOURS.
Magic Kid nodded.
"Okay! I'll just wait!"
A small illegal chaos orb formed in his hands.
"Here."
He tossed it behind him.
The orb exploded, summoning a tiny purple tornado.
Magic Kid giggled.
"I love being me."
In the dojo, Danny stood at the edge of the cliff behind the courtyard, overlooking the misty valley.
He could feel everything.
The Wolf King's hunger pulsing like a drumbeat.
Bones' silent laughter twisting through the void.
Magic Kid's chaos dancing across the universe.
Swift's calm silver aura.
Jake's molten bronze determination.
And the tournament.
The arena's gate pulsed in the distance—visible only to him—like a beacon calling every warrior in creation.
Kael'ar stepped beside him.
"You sense it all."
Danny nodded. "Too much."
Kael'ar's feathers shifted. "This is the burden of the Golden Flame. You are not built to carry one world. You are built to carry many."
Danny gripped the railing.
"What if I fail?"
Kael'ar answered immediately.
"Then the universe learns. And rises again."
Danny looked at his hands.
Golden fire crawled up his fingers.
Silently.
Hungrily.
Beautifully.
He whispered:
"I feel like something big is about to break."
Kael'ar nodded.
"Because it is."
Danny inhaled deeply and stepped back from the cliff.
He turned toward the dojo.
"Let's train. All of us.
This is the last day."
And somewhere beyond the veil of worlds,
the gates of the Tournament of Champions pulsed
brighter and brighter—
like a heartbeat counting down to war.