Result of Judgment
The golden verdict fades.
By being **absorbed**?.
Alphamon's attack does not explode against ZeedMillenniummon — it joins him. The column of rewritten causality carves through skeletal ribs, through fractured timelines, and strikes the core suspended within his chest.
For a fraction of moment, the chosen believes ZeedMillenniummon has been overwritten.
Then the impossible happens.
The Alpha InForce fused with ZeedMillenniummon.
ZeedMillenniummon was never a Digimon meant to be destroyed.
He is a **function** — a reset protocol born from accumulated paradox, failed timelines, and corrupted salvation attempts. Alphamon's attack does not deny that function.
By striking Zeed with absolute causality — a future where judgment is guaranteed — Alphamon eliminates uncertainty from Zeed's core logic. The reset no longer needs to *decide*.
It now knows **when**.
And so ZeedMillenniummon evolves.
---
ZeedMillenniummon → ((Hectramillenniumon))
The skeletal dragon freezes mid-motion as every fracture along his body ignites with blinding chronal light. Bone fragments lock into place, snapping together with thunderous precision. The exposed ribs retract, replaced by colossal armor plates forged from compressed timelines.
Hectramillenniumon towers beyond comprehension — a towering mecha colossus whose height eclipses **multiple planets stacked end to end**. Entire Earths drifting in the collision basin barely reach his lower torso.
His body is humanoid in structure, but impossibly vast:
A titanic armored chest shaped like a cathedral of machinery, engraved with rotating clockwork halos.
Shoulders crowned with massive, ring-shaped temporal reactors, each spinning at a different speed.
Arms constructed of layered alloy and data-bone, each segment etched with glowing chronal circuitry
Where wings once existed, colossal **time-engines** appear — circular constructs that rotate behind him like the halo of a false god. Each rotation emits shockwaves that cause nearby planets to age, revert, and crumble simultaneously.
His head is angular and regal, helmet-like, with a single horizontal visor glowing with infinite recursion. Behind it, countless ghost-images of earlier Zeed forms flicker and collapse into the current body.
At the center of his chest burns the core — no longer a broken clock, but a **perfectly synchronized chronal reactor**, hands aligned, ticking once every eternity.
--
Even **Gaiamon** — the planetary-scale Appli god — is diminished.
Hectramillenniumon's lower legs alone eclipse Gaiamon's manifested frame. Probability fields spike wildly as Gaiamon's calculations overflow, symbols scrambling across his visor as logic fails to keep up.
The collision basin breaks.
Entire Earths crack apart under Hectramillenniumon's mere presence, drawn inward by gravitic time-fields radiating from his frame. Oceans spill into space. Continents shear away like dust.
Taichi can't speak.
WarGreymon raises his arms instinctively, Dramon Killers glowing — reflex.
---
Daisuke grips his Digivice until it cracks.
Imperialdramon's sword trembles, holy light faltering as the concept of justice itself destabilizes. He does not lower the blade.
But he understands — this enemy is beyond Anything he hás ever faced
---
Takato feels guilt for being scared from this Monster.
Gallantmon tightens his grip on shield and lance, sensing that their power — once meant to end worlds — is now irrelevant. Still, he steps forward.
---
Takuya swears.
EmperorGreymon's flames flare violently, burning brighter in protest, yet even they are swallowed by the shadow cast across the battlefield.
---
Masaru laughs.
A raw, defiant sound.
ShineGreymon answers with a solar surge, fists blazing —
---
Shoutmon's voice cracks.
From rage.
He roars anyway, cannons charging, unity screaming against inevitability.
---
Haru stares in stunned silence.
Gaiamon's systems scream warnings that have no solutions. Calculations end in null values.
---
Alphamon stands unmoving.
He does not retreat.
His judgment did not fail.
Behind his visor, possibilities collapse into one truth.
This war has passed the point of correction.
---
Hectramillenniumon raises one colossal hand.
Planets freeze in orbit around his fingers.
His voice echoes — not loud, but absolute.
> "Judgment acknowledged."
>
> "Reset condition fulfilled."
>
> "Proceeding to total convergence."
The multiverse begins to fold.
--
Masaru Daimon does not believe in inevitability.
Even now, standing on fractured land the size of continents, beneath a sky stitched together from dying universes, he refuses to look away from the impossible scale of **Hectramillenniumon**.
Masaru clenches his fist.
"Let's go," he growls.
The Burst Mode ignition is a **compression**. Light collapses inward around ShineGreymon's body, solar energy folding into layers so dense they distort space around him. His wings blaze brighter than any star visible in the fractured sky, each feather a burning vector of force. The golden armor along his chest and arms glows white-hot, sigils igniting as power exceeds designed limits.
The ground beneath him vitrifies.
Then shatters.
ShineGreymon launches forward.
Every movement leaves behind afterimages. The air tears as he accelerates, shockwaves rippling outward in expanding rings that crack floating landmasses and scatter oceans suspended mid-collapse. Masaru shouts something — encouragement, defiance, rage — but the words are swallowed by scale.
ShineGreymon closes the distance.
Compared to Hectramillenniumon, he is nothing.
Fifty meters of burning resolve against a being that dwarfs worlds.
He does not slow.
**Burst Impact.**
The first strike detonates against Hectramillenniumon's lower frame like a newborn star. Solar plasma erupts outward, washing over planetary armor in blinding gold. The force is enough to vaporize cities.
Hectramillenniumon does not move.
ShineGreymon follows immediately, chaining the attack again and again. Each Burst Impact stacks atop the last, detonations overlapping in controlled sequence. The explosions crawl upward along the machine-god's leg plating, turning its surface into a burning lattice of light and heat.
For a moment — a dangerous, fragile moment — the armor glows.
Masaru's breath catches.
The glow drains upward.
**Absorbing.**
ShineGreymon grits his teeth and roars, wings flaring as he pushes harder. The Burst aura thickens, gravitational now, dragging ambient energy toward him. He drives himself forward again, fists blazing, striking at a colossal joint where armor plates interlock.
The impact reverberates across the collision basin.
Hectramillenniumon remains still.
ShineGreymon doesn't retreat, He keeps climbing.
Using scorched seams and massive grooves in the machine-god's frame, ShineGreymon propels himself upward, every movement powered by explosive wingbeats. He becomes a streak of solar light racing up a god's body, leaving a burning trail in his wake.
Masaru feels his heart pound.
"Again!"
ShineGreymon answers with everything.
He gathers power into his core until the light becomes unbearable, until the very concept of containment begins to fail. The Burst Mode mantle flares outward like a solar corona, energy bleeding into the surrounding void.
Then he releases it.
A final, point-blank **Burst Impact**, driven straight into Hectramillenniumon's torso.
The explosion eclipses stars.
For an instant, the battlefield is nothing but white.
When vision returns, a crater the size of a sea yawns open in the machine-god's chest plating. Chronal machinery is visible beneath — massive rings, rotating symbols, synchronized clocks ticking in perfect harmony.
Masaru's breath stops.
ShineGreymon hovers there, wings trembling, armor cracked and glowing. Data bleeds from his form like liquid sunlight. Every warning his body can generate is screaming.
And still — he does not pull back.
He drives his fists forward once more.
The machinery turns.
The crater seals.
The damage rewrites itself out of existence, armor reforming as if the attack never happened. The clocks never miss a beat.
ShineGreymon freezes.
Fear.
Masaru grits his teeth until they ache.
"Move," he snarls. "You're not allowed to just stand there."
Hectramillenniumon does not respond, Would he even hear From up there?
ShineGreymon's wings falter. Gravity reasserts itself, dragging him downward. He lands hard on fractured ground, knees buckling, steam and light pouring off his armor.
He forces himself upright.
Even now.
Even knowing it did nothing.
Even knowing the sun cannot burn the void.
ShineGreymon raises his fists.
Because standing still would mean accepting the end.
--
West side of Hectramillenniumon
Taichi Yagami has seen the end of the world before.
This is different.
Taichi does not step back.
"Agumon," he says quietly.
WarGreymon answers.
The transformation is sharp, deliberate. ChromeDigizoid armor locks into place with a sound like swords being drawn. The Dramon Killers on WarGreymon's arms hum with focused resonance, edges vibrating as anti-dragon data sharpens to lethal clarity. His eyes burn not with rage — but with certainty.
He plants one clawed foot forward.
And charges.
WarGreymon's advance is even more explosive and precise than ShineGreymon's. Every step cracks the ground beneath him, sending fractures racing across shattered continents. He moves like a weapon already mid-swing, momentum coiled and controlled.
The distance between them is meaningless. WarGreymon carves through it anyway, body rotating as he brings both Dramon Killers down in a crossing arc.
**Great Tornado.**
A spiraling vortex of compressed force erupts from his spin, a drill of kinetic energy that slams into Hectramillenniumon's lower frame. The impact bores deep, shredding layers of planetary armor in a violent cascade of sparks and molten data.
This time, the damage is not superficial.
Armor peels away.
Massive plates shear off and tumble into the void, trailing fire as they fall through collapsing realities. Beneath them, exposed machinery groans — gears the size of cities grinding against one another, time-runes flickering erratically.
Taichi's eyes widen.
"Keep going!"
WarGreymon roars and pushes harder, driving Great Tornado deeper. The vortex destabilizes local gravity, pulling debris, fragments of worlds, and even light itself toward the breach. The machine-god's leg sinks a fraction of a fraction of a degree.
The exposed machinery begins to realign. Runes snap back into formation. The breach slows.
WarGreymon disengages instantly.
He launches upward, wings flaring as he targets a higher point — the massive torso where energy conduits converge. He twists midair, bringing his Dramon Killers forward again.
**Dramon Killers: Full Resonance.**
The blades ignite, flooding with anti-dragon energy. WarGreymon drives them straight into Hectramillenniumon's chest plating.
A shockwave ripples outward, collapsing nearby Earths into each other. The chest armor fractures, splitting along geometric seams. Deep within, a core of rotating chronal rings becomes visible.
Taichi feels it in his bones.
"This is it!"
WarGreymon braces himself and pulls.
The Dramon Killers tear outward, ripping a colossal gash across the machine-god's chest. Sparks the size of mountains erupt as internal systems rupture.
Hectramillenniumon remains upright.
The rings turn.
The second unsticks.
The gash seals.
Armor reforms, smoother, denser, more refined than before. The Dramon Killers are forcibly ejected, flung back by an unseen force. WarGreymon spins through space, barely managing to stabilize himself before slamming into drifting landmass.
He rises immediately, Armor cracked.
Breathing heavy.
Still standing.
Taichi clenches his fists so hard they shake.
"You're not done."
WarGreymon nods.
He gathers everything he has left, channeling it into his core. Heat builds along his armor, seams glowing red-hot as power exceeds safe thresholds.
**Terra Force.**
The sphere forms between his claws — not a simple fireball, but a condensed mass of planetary energy. Oceans, magma, atmosphere — fragments of countless Earths spiral into it, drawn by the attack's gravitational pull.
The Terra Force grows.
And grows.
Then WarGreymon hurls it.
The impact is cataclysmic. The blast detonates against Hectramillenniumon's torso, engulfing its upper half in a roiling inferno of planetary destruction. The explosion pushes back entire layers of reality, forcing space to fold away from the force.
For several heartbeats, the machine-god is obscured.
Silence.
Then the fire clears.
Hectramillenniumon stands unchanged.
**Unmoved.**
The Terra Force dissipates into nothingness, its energy rewritten into background noise. WarGreymon drops to one knee, power bleeding out of him in visible waves.
Taichi swallows.
WarGreymon looks up.
He does not lower his head.
Even now — blade dulled, strength spent — he faces the end with his claws raised.
--
Takato Matsuki understands something the others don't.
He understands his actual power compared to such a monster.
Standing beside him, Daisuke Motomiya grips his goggles, jaw set, eyes burning with stubborn resolve.
Takato exhales.
"If we do this," he says quietly, "there's no guarantee of life."
Daisuke grins, sharp and fearless.
"Good. I don't know how to fight any other way."
Their Digimon move forward.
Gallantmon and Imperialdramon rise together — crimson and white-gold — their presences warping the battlefield in opposing, complementary ways. Where one embodies judgment, the other embodies decree.
Light erupts.
Gallantmon ascends first.
Crimson Mode condemns. The red cloak of digital energy unfurls around Gallantmon like a banner of final judgment, saturating his armor until it gleams with impossible depth. His shield hums with layered defensive algorithms capable of deflecting extinction-level forces. The lance in his grasp radiates purifying data so dense it bends space around its tip.
Imperialdramon follows.
Paladin Mode manifests. The Omega Blade forms in his grasp — a construct of absolute authority, its surface inscribed with symbols older than any Digital World. Wings spread wide.
Gallantmon takes point.
He advances with measured steps, shield raised, cloak trailing behind him like a burning horizon. Every footfall stabilizes the fractured ground, He lifts his lance.
Royal Saber.
The thrust releases a beam of crimson-white energy so focused it slices through layers of reality without dispersing. The attack spears directly into Hectramillenniumon's lower torso, boring a tunnel through planetary armor, chronal plating, and time-encoded circuits.
The impact cuts.
A wound opens — vast, precise — exposing rotating temporal cores deep within the machine-god's body. Time around the breach stutters violently, seconds unraveling into fragments.
Daisuke shouts.
"NOW!"
Imperialdramon moves.
He raises the Omega Blade overhead, drawing power from every remaining stable universe in the battlefield. The sword grows — It becomes heavier than concepts, heavier than destiny.
Omega Blade: Absolute Cleave.
The swing comes down.
The strike is silent.
When it lands, the battlefield folds inward. Entire Earths are bisected cleanly, their halves drifting apart as if politely separated. The blade connects directly with the wound Gallantmon created, carving downward through Hectramillenniumon's core structure.
The damage is catastrophic.
Massive internal systems rupture. Chronal rings shatter. Time bleeds outward in chaotic streams. For the first time since the battle began, Hectramillenniumon's internal rhythm falters.
Takato's breath catches.
Daisuke laughs — sharp, incredulous.
"We did it!"
The machine-god speaks.
Durability Output Adjustment: 0.1% → 0.5%.
Gallantmon feels it immediately.
The wound resists.
Imperialdramon feels it too — a shift, subtle but absolute.
Hectramillenniumon's systems realign, The cleaved core seals.
The Omega Blade grinds against reforming structure, sparks erupting as absolute authority is reduced to friction. Gallantmon slams his shield forward, reinforcing the breach with layered defensive fields, pushing harder, pouring everything he has into maintaining the opening.
"STAY OPEN!" Takato screams.
Imperialdramon roars and channels more power — too much — wings burning, data tearing away from his form as the Omega Blade flares.
The pressure increases.
The wound collapses inward, swallowing the Omega Blade's edge. Gallantmon is hurled backward, shield cracking, cloak disintegrating into sparks of dying data. Imperialdramon is thrown aside by a shockwave that fractures nearby universes into raw digital mist.
They crash miles apart, Both struggle to rise.
Imperialdramon plants the Omega Blade into the ground to steady himself, armor scorched, wings torn. Gallantmon forces himself upright, lance trembling in his grasp, shield barely holding together.
Takato's voice shakes.
"That… should've worked."
Daisuke clenches his fists.
"That was far stronger than WarGreymon's attack…"
Hectramillenniumon stands unchanged.