The three-day journey through the Digital World had been grueling. We'd fought corrupted Digimon in the mountains, forded a river that felt like liquid static, and camped under constellations that moved in patterns I'd never seen on Earth. Now, standing at the base of massive stone steps leading to an ancient temple carved into a cliff face, I finally let myself believe Jijimon's directions had been accurate.
"So let me get this straight," I said, adjusting my utility belt as we climbed. "You're telling me there's no real government here? No leadership structure at all?"
Gomamon waddled beside Wally, Biyomon and Gabumon in the back he was in the back of the group because he wasn't quite able to keep up with my front of the group stride, his white fur catching the strange digital sunlight. "Well, except for those who live in villages like the one we saved, we don't really have any central authority. Most Digimon just kind of... exist. We form communities, sure, but there's no king or president or anything like that."
"Seems chaotic," Kaldur observed.
"It works for us," Tentomon buzzed near my shoulder. "Or it did, before the corruption started spreading."
I filed that information away, my mind already working through implications. No leadership meant no one to negotiate with, no central authority to explain our presence to. We were operating in what was essentially an anarchic society held together by nothing but tradition and mutual survival.
"What about numbers?" I pressed. "How many Digimon are there total?"
Gomamon and Tentomon exchanged glances with the other six partners. Agumon spoke up, his small dinosaur form trudging steadily beside Kaldur. "I'm sorry, but most of us we're pretty young especially by Digimon standards, so we're not going to know just how many different kind of Digimon there are. We can recognize the most common species, but that's it. The Digital World is... vast."
"Define 'young,'" Conner said, holding Patamon against his chest. The small creature had been exhausted since his evolution to Angemon three days ago.
"About fifteen cycles," Biyomon chirped. "Which I think translates to maybe three of your years?"
Wally whistled low. "So we're being guided by toddlers. Great."
"Hey!" Gabumon protested. "We know enough to keep you alive!"
"Easy, everyone," Kaldur said in that diplomatic tone he'd perfected. "Our partners have proven themselves capable. Age does not diminish their value."
I let the others continue ahead, falling back a few steps to where Tentomon hovered at eye level. The question I really wanted answered couldn't wait any longer.
"Ikaris called himself an Eternal," I said quietly. "What does that mean?"
Tentomon's antennae twitched. "Ah. You want to know about the legends."
"Legends usually have some basis in truth."
"The Eternals are the ten servants of the Supreme Being who created the Digital World an unknowable long time ago," Tentomon explained, his voice taking on the quality of someone reciting an old story. "They are immortal, unaging, and very strong. If they were allowed to help directly, they could possibly solve the corruption themselves. But the Supreme Being's divine laws forbids it. They can only guide before the corruption it was very rare to see them in person."
"Really? Immortal? You're sure about that?" The detective in me needed confirmation, needed to understand the parameters of what we were dealing with.
"Yes," Agumon called back, having overheard. "The legend has been passed down for thousands upon thousands of years. The Eternals upon ordered by the Supreme Being built the first villages, taught the first Digimon how to digivolve, established the balance between data types. They're as fundamental to our world as the ground beneath our feet. In fact legends say Ikaris was the one to hang the sky itself."
Thousands of years. Immortal servants. A Supreme Being who created an entire dimension and then apparently stepped back to let it develop on its own. The scope of it was staggering, and I filed every detail away for later analysis. Batman would want a full report when we got back.
If we got back.
"Okay," Kaldur said as we reached the temple's entrance. "Let us enter."
The doorway was massive, easily twenty feet tall, covered in pictographs that showed humans and Digimon standing together. But what caught my attention were the eight symbols carved above the arch, each one glowing faintly with different colored light.
Courage. Friendship. Love. Knowledge. Reliability. Sincerity. Hope. Light.
The crests Ikaris had mentioned.
"Those symbols," Gatomon said, her tail swishing nervously. "I recognize them from the oldest stories. They're the virtues of the ancient heroes."
"Guess that's us now," Wally muttered.
We stepped through the entrance together, Digimon and humans moving as a unit. The interior was cool and dark, lit by bioluminescent moss growing in geometric patterns along the walls. Our footsteps echoed on polished stone floors.
The main chamber opened before us, circular and vast. In the center stood a pedestal with eight pedestals arranged around it in a perfect circle. Each smaller pedestal bore one of the crest symbols.
"Welcome, chosen ones," a voice echoed through the chamber. Not Ikaris this time—something older, more fundamental. "To claim your crests, you must face yourselves. Step forward and accept the trial."
"That's not ominous at all," I said.
Kaldur approached the first pedestal, the one marked with Courage's flame symbol. The moment his hand touched it, light flared, and he vanished.
"Kaldur!" Agumon lunged forward, but the light faded as quickly as it had appeared.
"The trial is individual," the voice said. "Each must face their truth alone."
"Not happening," Conner growled. But when he tried to approach the same pedestal, nothing happened. The symbol remained dark.
I studied the remaining pedestals, mind racing. Eight crests. Four humans. Each of us would claim two, if we survived the trials.
"I'll go next," I said, approaching the pedestal marked with Knowledge's book symbol. My crest. It had to be.
The world dissolved into light.
---
From my throne in the Divine Space, I watched four separate screens simultaneously. The temple's trials were some of my most carefully crafted work—not combat challenges but psychological ones. The System had suggested it, arguing that true strength came from understanding oneself, not just mastering techniques.
Now I got to see if I'd calibrated them correctly.
Kaldur materialized in a replica of Atlantis, but something was wrong. The water was murky, polluted. Bodies floated past—Atlantean bodies. His king, his family, his people, all dead.
"This is your fear," the temple's voice echoed. "That your failure will doom those you love. That your leadership will bring only death."
Kaldur's hands clenched into fists, gills flaring. "This is not real."
"But it could be. Every decision you make carries weight. Every command could be the one that kills your team."
I leaned forward, watching his face carefully. Too much? The fear was real—I could see it in his eyes, the way his breathing quickened. But would it break him or forge him stronger?
On the second screen, Dick found himself in a Hall of Mirrors, but each reflection showed a different version of himself. One wearing Batman's cowl. Another dead in a gutter, forgotten. A third as a circus performer, having never met Bruce Wayne. A fourth as a villain in black and white.
"Which one is real?" the voice asked. "Who are you without the mask? Without Batman? Without Robin?"
"I'm..." Dick started, then stopped. His greatest fear—that he had no identity of his own, that he was just a shadow of the Bat.
Screen three showed Wally surrounded by speed. Hundreds of speedsters raced past him, each one faster, better, more important. Flash, Impulse, others I didn't recognize. And Wally looked like he stood still, average, unremarkable.
"You are the slowest," the voice taunted. "The weakest. The least important speedster. Why should you matter? What purpose do you serve when others do everything you can do, but better?"
Wally's jaw tightened, and I saw the hurt in his eyes. The fear that he was just a sidekick, a backup, never the main hero.
Conner's trial was the most brutal. He stood in a Cadmus laboratory, surrounded by Lex Luthor and the scientists who'd created him. Superman was there too, but when Conner reached out, the Man of Steel turned away.
"You are not real," Luthor said with clinical detachment. "You are a weapon. A thing. You have no parents, no history, no purpose except what we give you."
"That's not true," Conner whispered.
"Isn't it? You are a clone. A copy. Less than human. You will never be Superman. You will never be anything but a failed experiment."
I gripped my throne's armrests, watching Conner's face crumble. He was braking this was too much. I'd gone too far. I should intervene, pull him out—
*DIVINE INTERFERENCE DIMINISHES GROWTH,* the System reminded me. *OBSERVE.*
But watching Conner suffer, seeing the existential agony in his eyes, I may not be the kindest person but knowing I'd created this psychological torture—it made me want to vomit. But it was obvious he wasn't overcoming this without help so I made a tiny change.
Then Patamon appeared in the vision, small and defiant, pushing between Conner and Luthor. "You're wrong! Conner is real! He's brave and strong and he saved an entire village! He gave me hope when I was scared!"
Gatomon manifested beside Patamon. "He's our partner. Our friend. That makes him more real than any test tube could!"
Conner looked down at his partners, tears streaming down his face. Then he stood straighter, facing Luthor directly. "You're right. I am a clone. But that doesn't make me less real. I make my own choices. I define my own purpose. And I choose to be a hero."
The laboratory dissolved. Conner stood in an empty chamber, two crests glowing before him—Hope and Light.
On the other screens, similar transformations occurred. Kaldur faced the dead Atlanteans and declared that he would lead with wisdom and courage, accepting the weight of command rather than running from it. Courage and Sincerity manifested for him.
Dick shattered the mirrors and stated that he was whoever he chose to be, that identity was not fixed but created through actions and choices. Knowledge and Reliability appeared.
Wally stopped trying to race the other speedsters and instead asked what he could do that they couldn't—what unique perspective he brought. The answer was friendship, connection, heart. Friendship and Love crystallized before him.
Eight crests. Four trials passed. Four heroes transformed.
They materialized back in the temple's main chamber simultaneously, each holding two glowing crest stones. Their Digimon partners rushed to embrace them, offering comfort and celebration in equal measure.
I sat back in my throne, emotionally exhausted despite having done nothing but observe. That had been intense. Necessary, perhaps, but intense.
A System notification appeared: *TASK SIX COMPLETE. EVALUATION: EXCELLENT. PSYCHOLOGICAL DEVELOPMENT PARAMETERS EXCEEDED. PREPARING TASK SEVEN...*
The notification expanded into a full screen.
*CONGRATULATIONS. YOUR FIRST DUNGEON HAS PROVEN SUCCESSFUL. THE CHOSEN HEROES SHOW SIGNIFICANT GROWTH. YOU HAVE DEMONSTRATED UNDERSTANDING OF BOTH MECHANICAL AND EMOTIONAL CHALLENGE DESIGN.*
*TASK SEVEN: CREATE THEMED DUNGEONS FOR DIFFERENT SKILL TYPES. YOU MUST EXPAND BEYOND STORY DUNGEONS TO DEMONSTRATE VERSATILITY. MINIMUM REQUIREMENT: THREE DUNGEONS OF DIFFERENT THEMES, PLACED IN SEPARATE LOCATIONS.*
*THEMES TO CONSIDER: ELEMENTAL MASTERY, TACTICAL COMBAT, STEALTH AND INFILTRATION, PURE PUZZLE SOLVING, SURVIVAL CHALLENGES, TEAM COORDINATION.*
*REWARD FOR COMPLETION: ACCESS TO ADVANCED CREATION TOOLS AND INCREASED DIVINE ENERGY CAPACITY.*
*TIME LIMIT: NONE. HOWEVER, MORTAL WORLD EVENTS CONTINUE. THE JUSTICE LEAGUE GROWS MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THE DUNGEON'S EXISTENCE. BATMAN'S INVESTIGATION WILL SOON INTENSIFIES.*
I processed that information slowly. Three more dungeons, each different from the Digital World. Each designed to teach different skills, appeal to different heroes.
This was where things got complicated. The Young Justice team was perfect for a story dungeon—young, adaptable, willing to engage with the narrative. But other heroes might want different challenges. Superman wouldn't care about partnering with cute creatures. Wonder Woman would want combat. Green Arrow would want precision challenges.
I needed to diversify. To create dungeons that appealed to different types of heroes, that taught different lessons.
And I needed to do it before Batman decided the dungeons were too dangerous to allow.