"WAIT!"
Tai's voice tore out of him as his legs launched him forward.
Charizard's throat glowed with heat. Greymon was trying to rise, dazed, blinking dust out of his eyes.
Tai didn't think. He moved.
He threw himself between Charizard and Greymon, arms spread wide like his body could negotiate with fire.
The arena went sharp around him—every sound too loud, every breath too thin.
Behind him, he heard everyone shouting his name.
He didn't turn.
Charizard's head dipped slightly, focusing on him. The heat rolled over Tai's face like standing too close to an oven.
Tai braced for pain.
None came.
Across the flames and wings, Tai saw the silent boy freeze.
A micro-action: the boy's hand lifted like he might issue a command.
Then—stopped.
The boy's eyes shifted, calculating, and Tai realized he wasn't deciding whether Tai deserved to be hurt.
He was deciding whether Tai meant it.
Whether this was real partnership… or desperation.
Tai swallowed, and turned to Greymon. His voice shook—not with fear, but with the effort of being honest.
"Greymon… I'm sorry," Tai said. "I get it. I've been treating you like… like you're just supposed to do what I want."
Greymon's eyes widened.
Tai stepped closer, hands trembling. "I'm here. I'm with you. Please—DIGIVOLVE!"
The emotion hit like a power surge through exposed wire.
Greymon's body lit up—
But the aura was wrong. Jagged. Violent. Corrupted.
The transformation didn't feel like a rise. It felt like a rupture.
SkullGreymon erupted into existence, a nightmare made of bone and rage. For half a second, the coliseum went silent like the world flinched.
Then SkullGreymon roared, and it sounded like a siren made of grief.
Sora gasped. Joe choked on a scream. Matt's eyes went wide in a way Tai had never seen.
Etemon's grin collapsed so fast it looked painful.
He pointed at the silent boy like a producer whose guest had gone off-script.
"HEY!" Etemon howled, voice cracking into frantic Elvis outrage. "What—do—you—think you're doin', KID?! You didn't tell me you could do that! You didn't tell me you could digivolve too—mmhmm!"
He flailed at SkullGreymon, then at the DigiDestined, then at the universe like it had personally insulted him.
"This was supposed to be a SLAUGHTAH, baby! A nice clean beatdown! Not… not a runaway monster with a bone fetish!"
SkullGreymon didn't care.
It turned, cannon-mouth charging with a glow that felt like poison sunlight.
The other DigiDestined shouted commands. Champions burst forth—Birdramon, Kabuterimon, Togemon, Ikkakumon—rushing in to restrain the monster.
SkullGreymon tore through them like they were paper dolls. A sweep, a blast, a stomp—each move brutal, emotionless, disproportionate.
Tai stood frozen, horror locking his joints.
He'd wanted Greymon to evolve to protect them.
Instead, he'd made something that needed protection from itself.
Izzy's voice cut through the chaos, high and urgent. "That device—Red's device—it's interfacing with Digimon data, but it wasn't built on the same system. It's rewriting the rules just enough to make it work!"
Tai's eyes snapped to the silent boy again.
The boy didn't look triumphant.
He looked… tense.
A micro-tightening in his jaw. A fraction shift of his stance—positioning himself between Charizard and the kids, not as a threat, but as a shield.
Tai understood, suddenly, that the boy wasn't enjoying this.
He'd come to win, yes—but not to watch everything burn.
Etemon backed away, palms up, still talking like he was on a microphone even as panic bled through.
"Alright, alright, alright—this show just got a little too method acting for me, baby!" Etemon squeaked. "Etemon is takin' five! Thank ya very much!"
He bolted through a broken archway and vanished.
SkullGreymon stepped forward, charging up again.
And Tai realized: this wasn't about who hit harder.
This was about who could control what they'd summoned into the world.