DARK DON — Jungle Entry Log: Zeriath, 2:34 A.M.
The night was deep. Moonlight carved silver lines through the pitch-blue sky, and stars scattered above like shattered glass. And in the middle of a dense, humid jungle—
Yeah. That was me.
Dark Don.
Not your average dragon. Not your average anything.
Ever since I teamed up with Don—the goody-goody version of me—to take down Incarceration and Dreadixz, everything flipped sideways. My tribe? They branded me a traitor. A heretic. Like I hadn't bled for them. Like I hadn't fought for them.
Did I really want to destroy Dreadixz?
...Yeah. At least I thought I did.
But this new me? I don't even recognize the guy staring back in the mirror anymore. Hero? Villain? I don't know. I've danced in both lanes, and honestly, neither fits right. So here I am, hiding out in the Lost World of Zeriath—the only place on this forsaken rock where no one's crazy enough to follow. Not even those holier-than-thou Lunaranite rats.
The jungle was breathing around me—lush trees, thick ferns, and shadows that never sit still. I stomped through the muck, thinking.
Hero gets me redemption.
Villain gets me vengeance.
But... Silicia—
She wanted more from me than either.
She believed in something better. Something different.
And I promised her… something I can't take back.
I sat down by the fern brush, arms resting on my knees, my cybernetic lunar gun humming beside me. "Maybe an anti-hero's what I need to be," I muttered. "Half light. Half dark. Just enough shadow to burn 'em all."
Problem is… the Lunaranites aren't letting me be anything. Not anymore.
Ever since their new king rolled in—King Dominator, gravity manipulator, self-proclaimed ruler of the Lunaranites—they've been on my tail like rabid bloodhounds. He doesn't send scouts. He sends soldiers. Ones that don't lose. Ones that don't leave survivors.
And guess who's their number one prey?
Yeah. Me.
Dark Don.
The lunar shadow.
The walking betrayal.
Just as I cocked my weapon, ready in case a dinosaur decided I looked tasty—
CLACK.
Not mine.
Louder.
Meaner.
And way too close.
I leapt from the brush and—BAM!—fifteen blinding lights exploded in my face. Flashlights. Lunaranite issue. They were already shouting:
"SURRENDER! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
Silver armor. Spears. Muskets. All human form, but I knew what lurked underneath—dragon killers, the elite scouts. I squinted through the lights, lips curled into a wicked grin.
"Damn, y'all thirsty tonight, huh?"
One raised his musket.
"You. Stay down, traitor."
"TRAITOR?!" I barked back, aiming my gun. "Why would I crawl back to that joke of a tribe?! You think I want to bow down to King Overcompensation?"
My lunar spear snapped into my hand, glowing brighter than every flashlight combined.
"You wanna drag me back? Then drag me through death first."
A scout sneered. British accent. "Why'd you even leave if you were one of us, eh?"
"Look, the Celestianites killed her and I know that. But instead of taking revenge, I chose redemption…. I know how it feels when someone you loved is gone, and now I don't want the same tribe who killed her to feel the same pain." I growled.
"Oh?" He chuckled. "You mean... Silicia?"
BOOM.
One shot. Right between the eyes.
He hit the ground before he could blink.
Gun still raised. Spear still humming.
My cybernetic rocket shoes clicked and shifted beneath me—turning into a hoverboard.
"Ride or die, fellas."
And I was gone.
They shifted into dragon form, wings tearing through their armor, chasing me through the jungle like starving dogs. But I was slicing between trees, bullets barely grazing my wings as I ducked and dodged like a lunar ghost.
Then I jumped—
Midair, my shoes morphed again. Rocket jets.
VROOOM. I blasted into the sky, leaves and branches shattering below me.
But the skies weren't empty.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Lunaranite fighter jets roared in, their cannons belching out orange plasma bolts. I zigzagged, spun, dipped, all while flipping them off in my head. Then—click—my shoes turned into dual Lunar Disks.
WHOOSH!
I hurled them like boomerangs—
BOOM! BOOM! CRASH!
Jets exploded like fireworks. Disks came back to me clean. I landed hard, converting the disks back into shoes, this time: roller skates.
And I blasted through the jungle.
Lunar trails scorched behind me as I flipped over branches, ducked under roots, backflipped off trees.
I was a blur—
A streak of pure lunar energy.
Until—
WHAM.
I hit something.
Hard.
Not bark. Not bone.
Metal.
I looked up...
And a figure stepped out from the shadows.
Clank. Clang. Boom.
Silver armor glinted under the moon. Triangular shoulder plates. A helmet shaped like a Diplodocus skull. A face shield. Bracers. A massive morning star mace dragging behind him like it weighed a planet.
Ten feet tall.
Black skin.
Buzz cut.
Steel gray eyes.
Metallic tail like a wrecking ball with spikes.
My eyes narrowed.
His narrowed right back.
Then—
He kneeled.
"Me... Ironz. Under your command, Master."
"What the hell?" I muttered, lowering my spear. "Why are you calling me that?"
"Ironz... protector of the Lost World of Zeriath. Part of the disbanded Chosen Ones. You are XK—Xion Krion. Our master. We've waited years. We saw you many times... but you never saw us."
Xion Krion...
My name before I became Dark Don.
And suddenly, it all hit.
I created them. Back on Planet Night. Silicia gave me life, and I used that same bio-energy to create others like me. He's part of the Illegals. A forbidden group led by Vironos, with other dark clones of the Chosen Ones.
"You were supposed to stay in the tube," I hissed, yanking his head close with my spear. "You were never meant to leave that lab!"
Ironz lowered his head. "Ironz is sorry, Master. Ironz obeys now. Always."
In the distance—
"FIND HIM!"
"HE'S IN HERE SOMEWHERE!"
"WE'LL BURN THIS WHOLE JUNGLE DOWN IF WE HAVE TO!"
I heard 'em. I didn't care.
I let go of Ironz and charged my cybernetic shoes, the energy humming through me.
"Listen close," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Kill anyone who steps foot in the Lost World. No mercy."
"Ironz will do what Master commands," he said, rising. "Ironz will KILL ANYONE who enters the Lost World of Zeriath."
I grinned. "Good boy. Make it messy."
WHOOSH!
I launched into the air like a shooting star, glowing with lunar energy, carving a path through the dark sky.
As I soared, I looked up—
And six streaks of colored light were falling from space.
White.
Pink.
Orange.
Green.
Silver.
Cyan.
Descending like meteors.
And I knew—
It's starting.
The final storm is coming.