Every ti the air shimrs with that weird purple haze, a handful of those creepy clown constructs pop into existence. And every ti I take one out, a precise energy spike tries to carve up from the shadows. Clockwork. Rinse and repeat. This guy wasn't just using Digimon; he was using them like chess pieces, like a freaking raid boss with a script.
I ducked behind a popcorn cart as another purple bolt sizzled past. The clowns were just a zoning tool, a way to herd into predictable lanes for his main artillery. Classic tower defense strategy, honestly. He wasn't trying to kill outright yet—he was testing, asuring my reactions, and keeping away from the carousel.
Jessica was still frozen up there, a statue on a plastic horse. Each second she stood like that was another twist of the knife. My brain kept wanting to shout Jessica!, to break the spell with sheer volu, but the strategist in knew that was exactly what he wanted—a distracted, emotional rush straight into a killing zone.
So I moved. I juked left, letting a wave of clowns surge forward, then pivoted right, using a ticket booth for cover. The expected energy blast tore through the wood where I would have been. See? Predictable. But that predictability was its own kind of trap; he could change the pattern anyti. The frustration was a low burn under my ribs, a mix of fury at seeing her like that and cold annoyance at how textbook this mind-ga felt.
This isn't just an ambush, it's a psychological stage. The clown, the purple energy—it's all coming from Killgrave's mind.
It's not a real Digimon. That pixelated burst when Impmon hit it? That's raw data. So the clown was just a program, a thought given form.
Wait. His mind control is viral. The Shadowstone corrupts things, twists data. He's using the stone to turn his will into a weapon. This is a psychic virus. I'm not fighting physical goons—I'm fighting his consciousness directly.
Which ans this whole park is probably rigged. Any shadow, any flickering light, could be another projection. He can just keep creating them. The real fight is getting close enough to hit him, not his ghosts.
"Impmon, stay sharp. Everything you see is a lie."
The Digimon growled, his flas flickering uncertainly. "Everything? Even Jessica?"
That's the worst part. Especially Jessica.
Suddenly, the ground beneath trembles violently. It's not a small tremor; it's a deep, earth-shaking vibration that travels up through my boots and rattles my teeth.
The rusted tal of the park groans in protest all around , a low, grinding sound that cuts right through Killgrave's stupid music.
My balance wobbles for a second. Okay, that's new. I plant my feet wider, bracing for whatever's about to co up from under us.
The Ferris wheel in the distance gives a tallic shriek as it sways, its empty gondolas clanging together like a warning bell.
Impmon's fiery temper and the stupid clown were just the warm-up. This… this feels like the main event is punching its way up from the basent.
The ground beneath the rollercoaster exploded upward in a shower of splintered wood and rusted steel. A monstrous, hybrid shape tore through the wreckage, landing with a ground-shaking thud that sent dust pluming around its six spider legs.
You have got to be kidding .
It was Gyuukimon, the ox-spider hybrid that vanished on us downtown. Its red eyes weren't just glowing now—they were burning with a focused, personal malice that drilled straight into . That wasn't the look of a wild animal. That was the look of sothing that rembered .
"Oh, co on," I muttered, my hands already curling into fists. "You couldn't have just stayed gone?"
Its horns tilted, the bells hanging from them giving a soft, sinister chi. It wasn't a coincidence it showed up now, not after Killgrave's little "reveal." This was the escalation, the real attack after the warm-up clown.
So much for a quick rescue mission. The ga just got a whole lot more complicated.
Okay, I get it now. The monster wasn't trying to kill or steal candy or whatever Digimon usually do.
It locked its six creepy eyes on the second I made a move toward the carousel. That massive, spider-leg lower half shifted with this unnerving silence, planting itself directly in the gap between and where Jessica stood frozen. It wasn't just standing there. It was positioned.
This thing was a roadblock. A living, breathing, venom-dripping barricade sent specifically to keep from reaching her. The strategy was so blatant it was insulting.
Killgrave wasn't just playing with dolls. He was playing chess, and the ox-spider was his queen, shoved right in my face to guard his prize.
The pieces clicked together with a cold, grinding precision that made my stomach tighten.
Of course. That was its entire purpose.
Gyuukimon wasn't just a random monster on a rampage—it was a physical anchor, a high-value distraction unit. He'd used it to draw out downtown, to split my focus between the controlled civilians and the armored threat. Now he was doing it again, keeping pinned in this stupid park, physically overwheld while he orchestrated everything from the shadows.
Psychological warfare with a damn Ultimate-level at shield. It was a brutally efficient strategy, one I'd recognize from any decent ga's boss design. The real threat wasn't the charging bull; it was the puppeteer calmly pulling the strings from the back of the stage.
And the anger that followed that realization was sharp and clean. He'd turned Jessica into a prop. He'd used my own protective instincts as a predictable weakness, a lever to control where I looked and where I fought. He was playing a ga, and he'd just shown the board.
I gritted my teeth, scanning the ruined carousel and the empty spaces where his laughter had co from. Fine. I see the move. Now it's my turn.
Fine. I can't just run.
The plan was simple: go straight for the carousel, grab Jessica, and get out before the puppet master could react. A classic extraction mission.
But that's the thing about chess—your opponent gets a turn. And Killgrave just moved his heaviest piece right into my path.
Gyuukimon stands between and Jessica, its spider legs coiled, the ox-horned torso blocking any clean approach. My Digivice reads it as an Ultimate level, and last ti it shrugged off everything we threw at it. If I try to rush past, it'll just pin down or, worse, turn its attention to Jessica. It's a wall I have to break.
So the goal changes. Right here, right now. Jessica is still the mission, but the first objective is clearing the board.
I have to neutralize Gyuukimon. There's no other way.
It feels like I'm playing right into his hands, you know? He puts his monster in front of , and I have to stop and fight it. It's the most obvious trap in the book.
But sotis the trap is the only way forward. If I don't deal with it, I'm just dancing on his strings. This isn't a distraction—it's a necessary evil.
My grip tightens on my Digivice. The resolve settles in, cold and solid. Fine. If this is the ga, I'll play.
I look from the monstrous silhouette back to Jessica's frozen form on the carousel. I'll get to you. But first, I'm taking down your guard dog.
***
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