Meanwhile Sun Wukong and Professor Amadeus were battling evil demons. Sun Wukong flipped his staff around. And standing there were three demons. Showerhead a showerheaded demon, Bubblebuns a large assed demon with horns, and Yadrak the Rat Demon. Professor Amadeus the multiverse jumping hero had reverted to his child form. He looked like he was a 12 or 13 year old white haired boy. "Alright chumps, get ready for an attack you can't resist: TRION times 2 Alpha." 20 spinning white cubes appeared around Amadeus and all of them shot beams of light down at the demons. Amadeus' ally Sun Wukong the Handsome Monkey King smiled, "Here we go again."
The battlefield stretched across a landscape of molten glass and silver sand, where the wind carried fragments of broken prayers. Sun Wukong's golden eyes gleamed under the cracked heavens, his Ruyi Jingu Bang staff resting against his shoulder. "Three demons, three mistakes," he said, spinning the staff so fast it blurred into light. The ground rumbled under his grin.
Across from him, the demon called Showerhead stood like a walking geyser, its body covered in dripping metal tubes that hissed steam. "I'll rinse you from existence, monkey!" it bellowed, unleashing jets of boiling vapor that distorted reality itself. Each droplet shimmered with fragments of trapped souls.
Professor Amadeus, still in his child form, cracked his knuckles. His white hair glowed faintly under the aurora sky. "You know, for something that calls itself a demon, you've got terrible posture." He raised one hand, summoning the twenty spinning cubes again — TRION α² Sequence — their humming pitch harmonizing like a cathedral of glass.
The cubes pulsed in formation, forming sigils in the air. A burst of light lashed out, carving symbols into the ground beneath the demons' feet. Yadrak the Rat Demon squealed, diving into the sand, while Bubblebuns spun his thick tail like a mace, laughing, "You think light scares me, kid?"
Wukong twirled his staff, knocking Bubblebuns' tail aside with a thunderous crack. "Light doesn't scare demons," the Monkey King said, "but it reminds them what they've forgotten." His movements became a blur — his hair trailing flames of gold and red as he struck the rat demon square in the jaw, sending him crashing through a cliffside of crystal.
Amadeus adjusted his goggles. "That's two. Now for the plumbing problem." Showerhead screamed, its tubes erupting into countless whips of boiling water. The jets struck Amadeus' shield, turning into steam. He leapt back, forming hand seals with childlike precision — his movements mechanical, elegant, almost divine. "Equation Forty-One: Reflective Cascade."
The air inverted. The steam twisted back toward Showerhead, transforming into silver rain that sliced its own armor. Wukong whistled. "Not bad for a twelve-year-old."
Amadeus smirked. "Not bad for a thousand-year-old monkey." His eyes glowed bright blue now — the eyes of one who'd seen universes collapse and reform. His mind pulsed with the mathematics of reality, equations forming constellations around him. "TRION Amplify – Resonance Field 4."
The twenty cubes split, multiplying into hundreds. Each one reflected an image of Wukong mid-leap, creating the illusion of infinite Monkey Kings charging at the enemy. Bubblebuns stumbled backward, his enormous frame quaking. "No… that's not possible—!"
"Everything's possible," Wukong said, his voice echoing through every reflection, "when chaos is your master and truth your leash." His staff extended, stretching across miles of broken terrain, then collapsed inward — crushing Bubblebuns into a crater that burned with divine fire.
Yadrak crawled from the rubble, hissing. "We are the spawn of the
Void! You can't destroy us!"
"Spawn or not," Amadeus replied, "you still have code." His hand flicked downward, and the cubes rearranged into a digital cage, trapping Yadrak within. Every lightbeam was an algorithm, rewriting the demon's molecular logic until it screamed into static.
The air went still. The last drops of Showerhead's steam rained upon the battlefield, evaporating in sacred silence. Wukong exhaled. "That all of them?"
"For now," Amadeus said, his voice heavier, older than his child form suggested. "But the signatures… they don't match this universe's grid."
Wukong turned toward the horizon. "You mean they're not from here."
"No. They're echoes — projections of something greater. Someone's testing us." Amadeus kneeled, tracing glowing circuits into the sand. "And the source lies beyond the Barrier of Thought — the same coordinates as the Mirror Realm breach."
"Mirror Realm?" Wukong frowned. "Didn't that collapse cycles ago?"
"It did," Amadeus said, "but time doesn't flow straight in this quadrant. The breach is re-manifesting backward. It's rewriting itself from the future."
The Monkey King's expression hardened. "So that's it. They're sending us warnings… or invitations." His tail flicked with restrained fury. "I don't like games I didn't start."
The sky above cracked open slightly — a thin fracture of white void bleeding through. From the rift, whispers bled into their ears. Voices older than stars murmured: "Every ladder leads to the same truth…"
Amadeus's eyes widened. "They're watching again. The beings beyond Barzakh — not gods, not demons… Observers."
"Let them watch," Wukong said, slamming his staff into the ground. "I'll show them what freedom looks like." His aura ignited — fire and lightning coiling around him like dragons. "They think they can measure me? I'll break their rulers."
Amadeus stood beside him, his youthful face now eerily calm. "Then we climb higher. Into the world that watches. Into their realm." His cubes formed a staircase of light, ascending toward the fissure in the sky. "You ready, Monkey King?"
Wukong grinned, fangs glinting. "Born ready." He looked back once, toward the horizon of the burning desert. "If truth devours all who seek it… then let it choke."
Together they leapt — a boy of impossible intellect and a trickster born from chaos — into the wound between universes. Behind them, the battlefield turned silent. The rain of shattered stars fell again, and somewhere far above, unseen watchers murmured:
"They climb."
"Yes," said another. "And the truth is waiting."
The silence didn't last. From the molten ground came a low rumble — a pulse that made even the fractured stars above flicker. Steam, blood, and darkness intertwined, forming grotesque silhouettes. Showerhead, Yadrak, and Bubblebuns were not dead. They reconstituted from pure malice, their bodies reshaped by the Void's will.
Wukong tightened his grip on his staff, his tail swaying in readiness. "Figures," he muttered. "Demons like these never stay down." His golden eyes glowed brighter, sensing the foul energy beneath the surface.
Amadeus adjusted his goggles, the reflection of three burning shapes flickering in his lenses. "Regenerative sub-logic detected. They've fused with something else — something parasitic. Their code is rewriting the battlefield itself."
The ground warped beneath them, turning into a shifting plane of crimson glass. Showerhead's voice echoed through the smoke: "You think you can defeat what's born from entropy?" From its metallic skull, jets of black flame burst forth — water and fire merging into a single destructive current.
Yadrak emerged next, twice his original size, his ratlike body now covered in molten armor. "The rat lives," he hissed, claws scraping against his metal shell. Bubblebuns rose last, wings of flesh tearing open from his back, dripping with blood that turned into mirror shards as it fell. "Now it's our turn," he growled.
Wukong laughed, the sound loud and confident. "Good. I was starting to get bored." His staff expanded into a massive column of divine gold, and he spun it once, creating a vortex of wind that repelled the demon horde's charge.
Amadeus, standing perfectly still, whispered: "Protocol Seven: Fusion Synchronization." His twenty TRION cubes rearranged themselves, forming luminous orbits around both him and Wukong. For the first time, the Monkey King felt the rhythm of Amadeus's mind linking with his — a bridge of thought and intent.
"You're in my head now, kid," Wukong said, amused but impressed.
"Call it a tactical overlay," Amadeus replied. "We'll strike together. Every move you make, I'll amplify."
The demons charged as one. Showerhead's steam geysers twisted into serpents of molten iron. Bubblebuns lunged forward, shaking the earth with each step, while Yadrak tunneled beneath the ground, trying to flank them.
Wukong somersaulted through the air, the Ruyi Jingu Bang elongating as he shouted, "Great Heaven–Piercing Strike!" The staff blazed with divine energy, tearing through Showerhead's serpentine flames. The steam demon screamed as the staff shattered its upper armor, exposing the glimmering core inside.
"Now!" Amadeus yelled. He raised his hands and the orbiting cubes converged into a cannon of light. "TRION BLASTER: MULTIVERSE VECTOR!" A pillar of white radiance erupted from his palms, striking Showerhead's core dead-on. The explosion turned the night into day.
From below, Yadrak erupted from the glass ground, claws first — but Wukong had already anticipated it. Through the mental link, Amadeus projected Yadrak's coordinates. The Monkey King struck downward, pinning the demon mid-air. "Gotcha, vermin!"
Bubblebuns tried to exploit the opening, slamming his fist into the ground with the force of a meteor. The shockwave threw up shards of molten glass. Wukong vanished — leaving only afterimages — and reappeared behind the demon, grinning. "You're slow, even with those hips."
Amadeus snapped his fingers. "TRION PHASE SHIFT: Reflective Spiral." The cubes transformed into reflective panels, creating an arena of mirrored barriers. Each reflection of Bubblebuns became an enemy duplicate — a prison of endless illusions. "Let's see him find the real exit," Amadeus murmured.
Bubblebuns roared, unleashing sonic waves that cracked the mirrors. Wukong's laughter echoed from every reflection. "You're fighting shadows, big guy!" Then all reflections attacked simultaneously — illusions amplified by Amadeus's quantum projection — striking from every angle.
Yadrak broke free from beneath Wukong's staff, half his body disintegrating into data noise. "You can't kill us!" he hissed, scrambling toward Amadeus. But the boy's eyes gleamed with cold precision. "Equation Sixty-Two: Singularity Collapse."
Reality bent. The cubes surrounded Yadrak/Yadrat, folding him into a localized gravity well. The rat demon's scream twisted into a thousand echoes before vanishing completely, leaving only dust.
Wukong and Amadeus stood back-to-back now, surrounded by molten debris and falling stars. "Two down," Wukong said. "One more bubble to burst." He leapt forward, staff glowing with celestial fire. "Heaven's Punishment!"
The golden strike met Bubblebuns' massive chest, piercing through the demonic flesh. Amadeus fired a simultaneous pulse of pure energy, synchronizing with Wukong's rhythm. The combined blast formed a double helix of gold and white — divine chaos and perfect logic entwined — obliterating the final demon in a single flash.
As the light faded, only the cracked battlefield remained, scorched by the intensity of their power. Wukong stood panting, his fur scorched but his grin wide. "Not bad, kid," he said. Amadeus deactivated his cubes, the halos fading. "Not bad for a monkey."
The two stood amid silence, watching the ashes swirl into the void sky — knowing this battle was only a rehearsal. Far beyond the rift, unseen eyes blinked once again, murmuring through the galaxies:
"They rise too quickly…"
"And yet… still, they climb."
Amadeus had his hands behind his head: "Wow that was easy, I didn't even have the chance to go all out." Sun Wukong snickered: "Did you seriously expect more from those clowns?" A black haired man with a katana jumped down it was Amadeus' old friend, "Jujitsu." He brushed his hair aside and said, "You rang, what do you need." Amadeus laughed and said: "Where do I even begin, first we need to get back to my ship." Wukong was about to head in the that direction and then he got a headache he saw Talus and the others fighting Barzakh's goons. "Is something wrong Monkey?" said Amadeus. Wukong laughed, "Its just Hermes she needs some help, fortunately for the little demon there fighting I won't kill him, I'll just bring this, I have two of these fillets."
Amadeus pointed curiously, "Wait isn't that the fillet your master Tripitaka used on you on your journey to India. Wukong smiled: "It sure is, Guanyin Bodhisattva gave it to him." Wukong hopped on his cloud and was ready to head off, "It will take some time to get there so you might not see me for a little while Professor I hope that's okay?" Amadeus smiled: "Nah, no big deal. Jujutsu and the others we'll be enough to take on these goons, go ahead save the day Monkey." Sun Wukong nodded and took off on his cloud. He saw in his mind: Scott Greer, Song-Yu, Talus, Hermes, Lupus, and the others fighting hordes off hordes of demons. Sun Wukong thought to himself: "Don't worry guys I'm coming, it won't take a minute."
Meanwhile Ungar was waiting around while Ozzy completed some fantastical work. Ungar and Wukong on their own paths and without knowing would both make a great impact in the battle with Barzakh. Back in Amadeus' current world Jutusu annoyedly asked: "Ok Amadeus, out with it. What the hell do you want?" Amadeus smirked: "That's a long story. But I'll try to make it quick."
Part II:
Amadeus raised both hands playfully. "Alright, alright… I know you're annoyed, Jujutsu. I can feel it from here." Jujutsu gritted his teeth. "Yeah, well, you dragged us into this mess. Start talking." Amadeus dusted off his coat, eyes flicking to the sky where Wukong had vanished moments earlier — already far, far away, streaking across distant continents. "And our angry friend Ungar? He's nowhere near us. He and Ozzy are on their own track."
Jujutsu scowled. "Yeah, so what's left for us?"
Amadeus finally straightened and spoke with uncharacteristic seriousness. "Barzakh built his armies on a stolen mirror-logic. Every demon you punch, slice, or vaporize? That's not the problem."
He pointed at the ruins beneath them. "The problem is the anchor. The Mirror Core. destroy that, and the whole army collapses." Jujutsu frowned. "…And where's the Core?" Amadeus gave him a sardonic look. "Under us."
Before Jujutsu could respond, a thunderous vibration rose from the ground — like a heartbeat beneath the stones. Cracks raced outward from Amadeus' boots, tracing glowing patterns that pulsed with eerie, mirrored light. Jujutsu stepped back. "Are you telling me we've been sitting on the fuse this whole time!?" "Yep," Amadeus said. "Why do you think I was taking my time? Wukong and Ungar are off dealing with threats so big we can't even perceive them yet. Everybody's pulling their weight. And now it's our turn." He tapped the ground with the butt of his mirrored blade.
The earth responded with a booming THRUM, like striking the skin of a colossal drum. "Barzakh hid the Mirror Core right under this city," Amadeus continued. "And do you know why?" Jujutsu cracked his knuckles. "So he could laugh when we walk over it?" "No," Amadeus smirked.
"So he could turn the entire population into reflections." A chill ran down Jujutsu's spine. "…Alright," he said. "Now you have my attention. How do we stop it?" Amadeus raised his blade, and the air grew cold.
"We go underground." Jujutsu blinked. "There's an underground?" "Oh yes," Amadeus said with a grin. "A very angry underground." Then he laughed: "But we're not going to be dealing with Barzakh at all, we need to go to the Cage."
Meanwhile… far away from them:Sun Wukong:
The Monkey King cut through clouds like a golden meteor, his cloud leaving trails of heat that boiled the sky. Ahead of him, flashes of combat erupted — Lupus, Talus, Hermes, and the others fighting for their lives. Wukong tightened his grip on the fillet, feeling Guanyin's blessing pulse through it. "I'm almost there, brothers," he whispered.
"Not a minute more."
Ungar:
In a completely different realm — halfway across dimensions — Ungar stood within a circle of runes Ozzy had drawn for him. The Catalytic Apex hummed behind him, absorbing energy like a starving beast. Ungar's visor glowed dark red. "Ozzy," he said calmly,
"when I step through that gateway… I will not return until Barzakh's shadow is broken."
Ozzy swallowed hard, pulling levers and twisting brass dials.
"Then… then go. The others need you."
Ungar stepped forward and vanished into a storm of black lightning.
The Izadorans:
Long before the stars learned to speak, before the Dream World spilled its first reflection into the waking cosmos, the planet Izador shone like a pale sapphire beneath the twin moons. Its forests glowed softly with drifting spores of silver light, and through these dreamlit groves walked the first Izadorans—white-furred wolf-folk who carried the serenity of sages and the strength of ancient beasts. Their paws pressed lightly into the moss, yet the echoes of their steps carried the weight of civilizations yet to be born.
To outsiders, the Izadorans seemed like contradictions. They spoke gently, moved gracefully, and built cities that resonated with quiet harmony. But behind those soft mannerisms lay a warrior culture older than the empire of Lupus, older than Ungar's earliest universes, older even than the ancestral lineage of Hermes. Izadorans believed that peace was not the absence of conflict, but the completion of it—an internal mastery rather than an external victory.
Every child of Izador learned this early. Even before they could speak, they were taught to breathe with the river's rhythm, to sit still among the crystal reeds, and to feel the pulse of the moons through their bones. Only after they mastered silence were they allowed to learn movement; only after movement did they learn combat; and only after combat did they learn restraint.
Their greatest teachers were the Pack-Sages, wolves whose fur shimmered with drifting motes of moonlight. These elders told the young ones: "The blade is not the warrior. The calm hand holding the blade is the warrior." And the children listened, their blue eyes reflecting the double moons as though already storing the wisdom of centuries.
Despite this culture of gentleness, the Izadorans were feared across the NUS Worlds for a single reason: they could transform. Beneath their serene wolf-visage slumbered an ancestral form—the White Ape, a towering being of pure primal instinct, a fragment of a forgotten age when raw power ruled all. It was said that the first Izadorans only became wolf-like after millennia of spiritual discipline.
The transformation was not taught like a skill, nor commanded like a spell. It awoke through the heart. Some Izadorans triggered it through battle-rage, others through grief, and a rare few through profound spiritual clarity. When the change came, bones cracked like thunder, fur glowed with streaks of cobalt energy, and the gentle wolf was replaced by a colossal ape with eyes like burning ice.
For this reason, the Izadorans developed strict meditative traditions to prevent sudden transformations. Their breathing arts—Moon-Soul Breaths—could slow the heartbeat, still the mind, or calm an entire pack at once. Many scholars believed this discipline was what made Izador one of the most tranquil worlds in the cosmos, despite the monstrous power sleeping beneath its white fur.
Magic also flowed through this race, with a purity seldom seen elsewhere. Unlike the sorcery of other worlds, Izadoran magic did not come from study, nor from external catalysts, but from emotion itself. Their signature ability, Spirit Howl, was a sonic pulse that mirrored the caster's inner self. A sorrowful howl summoned illusions of past memories; an angry howl cracked stone; a peaceful howl could silence entire battlefields.
Their cities rose like crystalline forests, built from silver-blue stone that hummed softly with enchantment. Bridges arched between towers like strands of moonlight frozen mid-fall. The architecture reflected their duality: elegant, yet strong; artistic, yet defensible. Even the smallest home contained a hidden armory—never for conquest, always for protection.
One tradition stood out among outsiders: the Moonlit Communions. On the night of the twin moons' alignment, Izadorans gathered in vast circles, their voices merging into a single harmonic howl. This sound rippled across the planet, syncing heartbeats, calming minds, and strengthening the communal bond. Many travelers claimed the sound could bring even raging monsters to peaceful tears.
But peace did not mean passivity. When threatened, the Izadorans fought with terrifying coordination. Packs moved as one—breathing together, striking together, shifting positions with such fluidity that enemies often assumed they were facing a single united entity rather than a dozen wolf-folk. Even the NUS Imperial tacticians studied Izadoran pack formations for inspiration.
Their greatest warriors bore bioluminescent tattoos called Lunar Marks, carved into the skin with ceremonial blades and infused with moonlight. These glowing lines pulsed brighter during combat, amplifying magical resonance or signaling the shifting emotional states of the warrior. A furious Izadoran's markings blazed like blue fire; a serene one glowed like pale frost.
For all their power, the Izadorans feared their White Ape ancestry. Stories told of ancient apes who destroyed entire forests in fits of rage, or who hurled mountains into the sea to reshape continents. Yet the elders always reminded the young ones that the ape was not a curse—it was a reminder. A reminder of what they once were, and of what they must continuously overcome.
In older times, a young Izadoran who transformed uncontrollably would flee into the wilderness, ashamed. But the modern era brought gentler traditions. Packs now surrounded the newly transformed with chanting, guiding them back to awareness. Through synchronized howls, they calmed the ape within, allowing the youth to return to wolf form safely.
Planet Izador became a sanctuary for heroes seeking balance. Even Hermes once trained there, learning to speak with spirits through the Memory Echo technique. Ungar, too, wandered the crystal forests during his exile, finding the Izadorans strangely comforting—perhaps because they, like him, carried universes of conflict within their souls.
The Izadorans maintained neutrality in most cosmic wars, but when they fought, they fought with divine purpose. They treated battle as a sacred ceremony, each duel a conversation of honor and truth. Their blades were forged from Izadoran Star-Iron, a metal infused with celestial resonance that hummed at the edge of hearing, vibrating with the wielder's intentions.
Though they avoided conquest, they were relentless in defending their world. Stories circulated of Izadorans facing Void Beasts alone on the lunar plains, their howls echoing across the cosmos like thunderous prayers. Some said the Void itself trembled before them—not from fear, but from the overwhelming harmony that clashed violently with its own chaos.
—
Their elders believed that every Izadoran was born with two spirits:
one wolf, one ape.
The wolf sought harmony, memory, and wisdom.
The ape sought strength, instinct, and survival.
Only by honoring both could an Izadoran achieve true balance.
Planet Izador today stands as a testament to that balance—a world where peace does not deny violence, but transcends it. Where warriors meditate under moonlit waterfalls, and where children learn to confront their inner storms before they ever learn to shape magic. A world where harmony is not a dream, but a constant, disciplined struggle.
And so the Izadorans walk their shining bridges with calm eyes and gentle smiles, knowing that within them sleeps an ancient titan. They walk with the serenity of monks and the dignity of kings, forever proving that true strength is not measured by one's capacity for violence, but by the eternal discipline required to master it.