The streets were emptying fast — a wave of panic spreading ahead of them like wildfire. People shouted and pointed, scattering into alleyways, car horns blaring as drivers tried to escape in reverse. But Tai, Kari, and Koromon pushed forward against the tide.
They reached the corner just in time to see Tyrannomon's massive tail swish through the side of a building. Bricks exploded into the air like confetti. Tai shielded Kari with one arm and held his Digivice up in the other, its screen flickering erratically.
"Come on," he muttered, skidding around the debris. "He was just here—!"
But then the roar — so sharp and primal only moments ago — faded into a distant hum. The sound warped, as though being pulled underwater, and Tyrannomon's massive form began to blur at the edges.
Koromon gasped. "He's fading!"
Sure enough, Tyrannomon's deep red scales shimmered, then dulled to gray, his body beginning to vanish, particle by particle, like static dissolving from a screen.
"Wait!" Tai called, as if sheer force of will could hold the Digimon in place. "Where are you going?!"
But in the span of ten heartbeats, the monster was gone — leaving behind only a few scorch marks and a twisted heap of wrecked metal.
Kari clutched Koromon, eyes wide and pale. "What was that? Why did he disappear?"
Tai didn't answer right away. Instead, he held up his Digivice and tapped at its buttons, trying to coax more from it than blinking lights and interference. The screen spat out a quick burst of static — and then something else: a ripple. A distortion in the digital signal, just beyond the spot where Tyrannomon had vanished.
"There's something here," Tai said, his voice hushed with awe and dread. "A residual trace. Like a footprint."
Koromon tilted his head. "A rift?"
"Maybe." Tai stared at the readout, brows furrowing. "Piximon said only Mega-level Digimon could punch through into this world — and Tyrannomon's not even close. Something must've sent him here."
"Or dragged him back," Kari whispered, glancing around the darkened street. "Like a fishing line."
Tai clenched his jaw. "Someone — or something — is messing with the barrier between our worlds. These aren't accidents. Tyrannomon didn't just stumble through. He was sent."
He took a step toward the epicenter of the destruction, careful not to cut his shoes on the shattered glass. The Digivice buzzed faintly in his hand, like a compass trying to find true north.
"There's a tear in the fabric somewhere close," Tai muttered, as if talking to himself would help. "But it's unstable... maybe only opening for a few seconds at a time."
Koromon looked up. "Can we find it?"
Tai's eyes flashed with determination. "We have to. If these things can come through... it means I can go back."
And yet, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Because if low-level Digimon were already slipping through the cracks, what else — or who else — was waiting on the other side, pushing at the barrier?
And how long before the cracks became a door... and that door blew wide open?
--------------
Tai stood still in the ruins of the street, the wind tugging at his shirt like it wanted to drag him backward — back home, back into safety. But no such thing existed anymore, not truly. The lines between the Digital World and his own were bleeding into one another, slowly but certainly.
He looked down at his Digivice, its soft pulsing glow no longer a beacon of hope, but a reminder of what only he could see: the thin veil of peace shattering one ripple at a time.
"What if this is why Izzy told me to stay?" he muttered, more to himself than the others. "Not because I'm better off here… but because they need someone to stay."
Kari and Koromon turned to him, watching silently.
"There's no one else here to deal with this. No Matt. No Sora. No one with a Digivice but me. If even Champion-level Digimon start showing up here…" Tai's voice trailed off as he glanced up toward the sky, the city skyline looming like watchtowers around them. "A single Greymon could take down a building. What happens when something bigger comes through?"
His gaze dropped to the blackened crater Tyrannomon had left behind.
"Missiles, tanks… they'll hit the Digimon, but they'll also hit people. Innocents." He clenched his fists. "Our weapons weren't made to fight monsters. Not ones like them."
The thought weighed heavily in his chest. He had fought countless Digimon before, survived the fiercest battles — but never had he imagined his world becoming the battlefield.
He was about to speak again when a deep tremor rattled the street beneath their feet.
"W-What was that?" Kari asked, gripping Koromon tightly.
Tai's Digivice flared with sudden urgency, its screen flashing the red outline of a new presence. "Another one?"
From several blocks away, the sound of collapsing pavement echoed like the groan of a dying beast. A plume of smoke rose above the buildings, and with it, a jagged horn split the sky — a monstrous drill spinning slowly as it pushed through concrete like butter.
The Digivice beeped once, identifying the signature in glowing text:
DRIMOGEMON – Champion Level.
Tai's heart skipped. Unlike Tyrannomon, this one wasn't fading. It was fully here.
He could already feel the tension in the city shift — the silence before the storm. The calm before the first scream.
Koromon let out a nervous breath. "He's digging tunnels… That's what Drimogemon do."
Tai narrowed his eyes. "Then he could be trying to make a new rift. Or… was sent to make one."
Kari tugged at his sleeve. "Tai… what do we do?"
For a moment, the question hung in the air like a heavy curtain.
What did they do?
He couldn't call the army — they'd do more harm than good. He couldn't let the Digimon run loose. And he couldn't look away, not anymore.
"I don't know if going back to the Digital World is even possible right now," he finally said, voice steadying. "But if I can't go there, then I'll protect this side."
His jaw set with resolve. "I'll do whatever it takes to stop them before someone gets hurt."
And without another word, he broke into a sprint toward the rising dust cloud, Digivice in one hand, determination in the other — racing not just toward Drimogemon, but toward a role he hadn't asked for:
Protector of both worlds.
----------------
By the time Tai reached the scene, the chaos had already taken root.
Sirens wailed. Dust choked the air. The twisted remnants of steel beams jutted out from the collapsed building like ribs from a broken carcass. Rescue workers swarmed like ants, pulling away rubble, shouting over the roar of fire and machinery. And just beyond it all, where the earth had split open, Drimogemon's form began to shimmer—translucent, flickering, then gone.
It had vanished, but not before leaving devastation behind.
Tai stood frozen for a moment, the heat of the destruction brushing against his cheeks, his fists clenched at his sides. His Digivice still pulsed in his hand like a silent metronome, as if it too recognized the horror of what had just occurred.
And behind him, Kari trembled.
"Tai," she whispered, her voice small and scared. "There are… are people under there, right?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
Instead, he turned and knelt, placing both hands gently on her shoulders. "Don't look, okay? Just stay close."
She nodded, eyes wide and shimmering, and Tai pulled her away from the scene — not because he couldn't take it, but because she shouldn't have to. Not yet. Not now.
The images would haunt her for life otherwise.
He led her around the corner of a quieter side street, away from the flashing lights and the chaos. In his backpack, Koromon squirmed softly, his voice a muffled whisper. "Is it over?"
"Not yet," Tai murmured. "Stay quiet. Please."
Just then, two figures stepped into the mouth of the alley from the other side.
One was a woman — not much older than a college student — with short brown hair and the polished look of someone who'd been working overtime in an office. But her eyes weren't tired — they were sharp, measuring Tai and Kari with practiced intent.
Beside her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, face weathered and eyes hard as stone. A scar ran down his cheek like a question mark left unanswered. His hands were tucked into the pockets of a long coat, but his presence made Tai tense up immediately.
Instinct kicked in. Tai stepped in front of Kari, shielding her slightly, while shifting his backpack closer to his side. "Who are you?" he asked warily.
The woman offered a half-smile. "Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you."
"Yeah," the man said in a low rumble. "If we wanted to, we would've already."
That didn't exactly help.
"We just want to talk," the woman added. "About what happened here. And about what's inside your bag."
Tai's stomach twisted.
"I don't know what you mean."
The man scoffed. "Cut the act, kid. We know. We saw you at the last incident site. You always show up when they do."
Koromon tensed inside the bag.
Tai swallowed hard, mind racing. He had no idea who these people were. Government agents? Scientists? Digital World survivors?
Or worse — enemies.
The woman's expression softened. "We're not here to expose you. But you need to understand something, Tai Kamiya… The world is watching now. Digimon aren't fairy tales anymore. What happens next depends on what you do."
Tai's eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"
----------------
Tai's eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening protectively around the strap of his backpack. "How do you know my name?" he asked, voice low and guarded.
The woman didn't flinch. She stepped forward, her heels clicking smartly against the pavement, like the tick of a countdown. Her expression was calm, but something in her gaze gleamed with knowledge — old, practiced, and faintly bitter.
"We know," she said evenly, "because we're part of the government." Her tone was as smooth as polished glass. "Once, long ago, we were like you — DigiDestined. Now we work to keep this world safe from what lies beyond."
The man beside her remained silent, arms crossed like a stone gargoyle, eyes hidden beneath the shadow of his brow. His presence was like thunder before a storm — heavy, unspoken, dangerous.
"Though," she added with a sigh, pulling something from her coat pocket, "it's awfully difficult to do anything when our Digivices have all been shut down."
She held out her palm. Sitting in it was a Digivice, similar in shape to Tai's, but cold and lifeless — a dull shell of plastic and memory. No glow. No heartbeat.
Tai stiffened. "You want to use mine."
The man let out a grunt. "Not us, kid. The Japanese government. Unless you'd rather play the runaway traitor card."
Tai took a step back instinctively, pulling Kari closer behind him. The man wasn't even trying to hide the menace in his voice — no honeyed words, no pretense. Just threat.
"I'll help," Tai said after a tense pause. His voice was steady, but his jaw clenched with every word. "But there's no way I'm handing over my Digivice."
The woman's eyes flicked toward her partner, clearly displeased. "Come on, Tai," she said more gently, schooling her voice into something maternal. "How can our researchers analyze the thing if you don't hand it over?"
Tai didn't answer. His fingers curled protectively around the device in his pocket, feeling its faint hum — like the heartbeat of something alive. He didn't trust them. Not fully. Not with this.
Then, without warning, the tall man vanished.
Not stepped. Not moved.
Vanished.
There was a soft whoosh of displaced air, a flicker in the corner of Tai's vision—and when he spun around, heart hammering in his chest, the man was behind him.
Holding Kari by the collar like a rag doll.
Her legs kicked, her eyes wide with panic. "Tai!"
Tai's Digivice surged in his pocket — a sudden heat, a whine — but it didn't act. Not this time.
The man's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Now then, little hero," he said, his voice like rusted metal scraping against stone, "hand over the Digivice… and the Crest… or I twist her pretty little neck until it snaps."
Tai froze. The world tilted.
Of course — of course. That's why they hadn't stolen it before. The Digivice protected him. Created a barrier whenever it sensed threat — but only around him. Kari hadn't been included in its definition of danger.
They hadn't tried to take it — because they couldn't.
Until now.
The hum of the Digivice grew louder in his pocket, like it too sensed the betrayal, the threat, the cruelty.
Tai's blood roared in his ears. He stepped forward once, twice—each movement deliberate.
"Kari," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "Don't move. I'm going to get you out of this."
------------------
This was different.
Tai had fought giant monsters, faced impossible odds in a world made of data and danger — but this… this was new.
His sister. In danger.
And not from a rampaging Digimon, but from humans.
Tai's breath hitched in his throat. He didn't move, didn't blink. His mind screamed for a solution, but all he could see was Kari — dangling like a broken doll, her wide, terrified eyes locking onto his. Time slowed. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum, but his limbs refused to move.
He had no plan.
No backup.
Only a Digivice — and a sister who might die if he made the wrong choice.
And then —
Crack.
The sharp retort of a gunshot cut through the air like lightning.
The man staggered, a bloom of red appearing on his shoulder. His grip loosened. Kari fell.
Tai didn't think.
He moved on instinct, the kind that had kept him alive in the Digital World — fast, desperate, furious.
He dove forward, catching Kari before she hit the pavement. She whimpered, clutching at him, but she was safe — safe.
His hand flew to the Digivice, and it answered his fear with light — pure and blinding. A shield erupted around them with a high-pitched hum, spherical and shimmering, sealing them inside a dome of protective energy.
The man cursed, his voice distorted by pain. "Go!" he barked to the woman, who was already running — a blur of brown hair and black heels disappearing into the smoke.
He turned and staggered after her, teeth gritted, blood trailing behind him.
But as he reached the edge of the street, he stopped — just long enough to twist around and face Tai, silhouetted by siren lights and fire.
"We'll be back," he growled, eyes burning with something far older than duty. "Unless you want your life to become a living nightmare, kid — throw away the Digivice."
He spat the last words like venom. "We won't kill you. We can't. It won't work if you're dead."
Then he vanished into the chaos.
The shield hummed quietly. Tai knelt within it, still holding Kari, her small fingers curled tightly into his shirt. His heart hadn't slowed, but something inside him had hardened — a quiet steel beneath the fear.
This wasn't a game anymore.
It wasn't just Digimon or strange rifts or missing friends.
Now humans were involved. Dangerous ones. Twisting the truth, using the Digital World's power for their own ends.