"Keep alert! Don't lose them!" Mark Munakata barked out the order, his eyes locked onto the massive command center screen.
The TPC had spent billions setting up radar stations and satellites across the globe, but even with all that tech, tracking two objects moving at Mach speeds through a thick soup of sea fog was a nightmare. Thankfully, Justin was a wizard behind the keyboard. He was weaving a dozen different data feeds into a single, cohesive image.
In the command center, the only sound was the low hum of cooling fans. Everyone had stopped breathing, captivated by the high-stakes dogfight playing out in real-time.
"Freezing Ray!"
In the air, Reg was testing the limits of his new Aerial form. He was technically faster than Melba, but he wasn't just trying to outrun the beast. He flipped his posture, flying backward with a casual grace that defied physics. It gave him a perfect view of the monster's snapping beak and allowed him to lead Melba exactly where he wanted.
The monster, blinded by prehistoric rage, fell for the bait. It overextended, losing its aerodynamic balance in a desperate lunging snap.
Gotcha, Reg thought. He focused, drawing a sharp chill from the energy humming in his Color Timer.
Swish!
A stream of brilliant blue light erupted from his right palm, painting the sky along his previous flight path. The second Melba hit that trail, the light flash-froze into a cloud of sub-zero gas.
Click-clack!
The sound was sickening—like a glacier cracking apart. In a heartbeat, Melba was encased in a solid block of ice, its wings frozen mid-flap. The creature plummeted, a ten-thousand-ton ice cube dropping toward the dark Pacific.
"Let's wrap this up. Lampard Light Bullet!"
Reg threw his arms wide, drawing in every scrap of ambient light until it condensed into a searing point at his waist. He swung his palm forward, releasing a white, arrow-shaped beam that sliced through the mist.
Rumble! Rumble!
The explosion was biblical. A massive fireball erupted from the sea, expanding outward until the ocean for thousands of yards was lit up as bright as high noon. The shockwave slammed into everything, and even the GUTS Wing 1—flying a safe distance away—shook like a leaf in a gale.
"Headquarters, tell me you saw that!" Shane yelled, wrestling with his flight stick. "That blast was unreal!"
Back at base, David let out a shaky breath, his eyes wide as he watched the satellite feed. "The giant did it. Melba's history!"
"Hell yeah!" Shane laughed, the tension finally breaking.
Reg crossed his arms, the crystal on his forehead flashing white as he shifted back into his balanced, multi-colored Composite form. He was about to give a friendly wave to the Wing 1 when something stopped him cold.
A wisp of dark, concentrated energy—something that should have dissipated with Melba's death—was drifting toward him. Before he could react, it surged into his chest.
Wait... did I just absorb that? He closed his eyes for a second. Deep within his consciousness, alongside his usual light-based powers, a new ability had quietly appeared: Melba's core heat beam.
"He's coming this way!" Rena called out, her voice tight with nerves.
In the cockpit of Wing 1, she watched a ball of brilliant light accelerate toward them. She gripped the controls, resisting the urge to peel away. Back at the command center, Director Sullivan had just walked in, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the team as they stared at the screen. Everyone was thinking the same thing: Is this mysterious ancient giant a friend or a new kind of problem?
The light faded, and Tiga hovered just feet away from the jet's canopy.
Reg looked through the glass at the two pilots. He knew he needed to set the tone, so he did the most "human" thing he could think of: he raised his right hand and gave them a crisp, enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Hey... I think he's on our side!" Shane said, his heart rate finally dropping out of the red zone. He let out a massive sigh of relief.
"My name is Tiga. Ultraman Tiga."
Reg didn't need a radio. His voice—grand, resonant, and strangely comforting—echoed directly inside the cockpit and the command center.
"The giant can talk?!" Harry shouted back at base, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. "And I understood him! Was that English?"
"Maybe he's picking up our language as he goes," Mark speculated. "That thumbs-up was a little too 'on the nose' for an ancient statue."
"Ultraman Tiga... that's our codename for him from now on," Director Sullivan nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Rena, see if you can establish a two-way dialogue."
But before Rena could even flip the external mic switch, a flash of light blinded them. When their vision cleared, the sky was empty.
"He's gone!" Justin yelled, checking his monitors. "He's off the grid. TPC tracking can't keep up with that kind of speed."
Meg Kijima looked at the empty radar screen and sighed. "Rena, Shane, bring it home. This coast has seen enough action for one night. Get that bird back to the hangar."
"Copy that, Captain," Rena replied, banking the jet toward the glittering lights of the maritime base.
While the GUTS team was headed for a long night of debriefing, Reg was standing on the jagged coast of the peninsula, watching the black waves roll in.
So this is what it feels like, he thought, looking down at his human hands. The power still hummed under his skin, a silent, vibrating roar. I can see why people lose themselves in this. You feel like you own the universe.
He thought about the "original" David from the stories he knew—how the guy had struggled, bled, and nearly died in almost every fight. David was a hero because he was willing to sacrifice everything. But me? I don't want to struggle.
He looked out at the water and let a tiny sliver of Melba's power leak out through his eyes. Two orange beams of intense heat lanced into the ocean.
Chi-chi!
The seawater instantly boiled, steam hissing into the night air. A few seconds later, several unlucky fish floated to the surface, white bellies up.
Reg shimmered, the light fading as he reverted fully to his human form. He started walking toward the distant city lights.
I can absorb them, he realized, his mind racing. In the old stories, Tiga could only take energy from other giants. But I just ate a monster's soul. If I keep this up—if every enemy I kill becomes a part of me—I won't just be a protector. I'll be an apex predator.
He didn't want to be the guy who barely survives. He wanted to be the guy who ends the fight before it even starts. Infinite evolution. It was a tempting thought.
"Getting late," he muttered, checking his empty pockets. "I should probably find a 'sponsor' to set me up with a place to crash tonight."
Victory Team Command Room
Director Sullivan and the rest of GUTS were huddled around the main screen, replaying the battle footage in slow motion, frame by frame.
"Wing 1 isn't enough," Shane said, his voice grim as he watched their lasers bounce off Melba's hide. "Look at this. We were basically just scratching its back. We produced a few sparks, sure, but we didn't do a damn thing to slow it down."
"And the speed?" Harry added, pointing at the telemetry data. "We were redlining the engines just to stay in the same zip code as the fight. If Tiga hadn't stepped in, we'd be picking pieces of Wing 1 out of the Pacific right now."
Meg looked at the frozen image of the giant's thumbs-up. "We need better tech. And we need it yesterday."