Chapter 48: Exit, Stage Left — For Evolution
Featuring monkeys made of metal, loyal wolves in knuckle dusters, and one existential ninja-turned-Digimon on the verge of destiny.
There are many ways to handle a crisis.
Some people cry.
Some people yell.
Some people run in circles.
Naruto, it must be said, was doing all three—just not on the outside.
On the outside, he was calm. Focused. A blonde-haired blur of fury and wind chakra, dancing between Metal Etemon's deadly strikes like a boy raised on ramen and recklessness. But inside?
Inside, he was cracking like an overboiled egg.
"I'm not human," he kept thinking. "I'm not even the real me. Just a Digimon shaped by memories. But does that even matter… when people I care about are dying?"
His heart hurt more than his bruised ribs—and considering he'd just been flung into a tree made of crystallized data, that was saying something.
Fortunately, help had just arrived—and it wore fur, metal claws, and a slightly posh accent.
Weregarrurumon leapt into the fray with the confidence of someone who'd trained under Bruce Lee, Captain Price, and possibly Mary Poppins, all at once.
He was fast. So fast, in fact, that Metal Etemon didn't even realize he'd been kicked until his chrome-plated face slammed into the pavement with a very satisfying crunch.
"Apologies, old chap," Weregarrurumon said, adjusting his knuckle dusters as though they were cufflinks. "But your disco era has expired."
He wasn't kidding.
This wasn't the adorable, quadrupedal Garurumon anymore. No, this was the evolved commando beast-man Digimon, the kind who wore leather, threw high kicks, and dual-wielded freezing pistols and steel claws like a cyberpunk knight.
And right behind him came Zudomon, lugging his titanic hammer like a walking avalanche.
"JOE!" Zudomon called, ready to swing. But Joe, sweating from behind the wall, waved his arms like a madman.
"No no no no! Zudomon—support Piximon! If you get hit by Metal Etemon, we're going to need a Zudomon omelet!"
With an understanding grunt and not even a hint of bruised pride, Zudomon turned and crashed his way toward Piximon's battle, clearing the path with enough noise to wake a Snorlax from hibernation.
Now, it was down to Naruto, MagnaAngemon, and Weregarrurumon versus the chrome monkey of doom.
Metal Etemon was beginning to falter. His net of wires had been shredded. His cool, confident grin was gone. His face bore the faintest hints of claw scratches and energy slashes. Battle damage, as the toy companies would say.
MagnaAngemon, still every inch the holy warrior, swooped in with a blinding light slash that cracked the earth. "Your cruelty ends here!" he proclaimed, voice rich and noble, like a knight at a church bake sale.
"Bloody dramatic," muttered Weregarrurumon, ducking under a cable and firing a freezing shot at Metal Etemon's leg. "But effective."
Yet despite their best efforts, Metal Etemon's chrome digizoid armor remained intact—impenetrable and shining like a disco ball in denial.
Naruto grimaced.
His Rasenshuriken and speed combos—even boosted by Blade Kuwagamon's light technique—weren't enough. He could slash the chrome, but he lacked the power to shatter it. They were holding the monkey back... but not defeating him.
And Naruto wasn't one for half-measures.
He turned to MagnaAngemon and Weregarrurumon, panting.
"Buy me time," he said. "All of it. If I'm right—if I can push past this limit—I'll be back. With something new."
"Going on a tea break, are we?" Weregarrurumon quipped.
MagnaAngemon gave a single, solemn nod. "Go, my friend. We will hold the line."
Without another word, Naruto cloned himself—one to fight alongside them—and the real one vanished, blurring into the distance in a streak of wind and golden energy.
Some might have called it a retreat.
Naruto called it what it truly was:
The beginning of evolution.
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"Ride Machmon," Digitamamon had said, in that maddeningly vague tone he used when pretending to be wise but was really just winging it.
"Why?" Naruto had asked.
Digitamamon had blinked slowly—well, as slowly as one can blink when one is an egg with no eyelids—and replied,
"Maybe you'll evolve."
Maybe.
MAYBE.
It wasn't exactly what Naruto called solid tactical advice, but then again, he had taken life advice from talking toads before, so this wasn't his weirdest Tuesday.
It was, however, possibly his most desperate.
The battlefield behind him was still roaring—shouts, light bursts, metal clanging, and monkey screams echoing in the distance. He didn't want to leave, but he needed something more. Something stronger. And if the answer lay in becoming one with a Digimon race-bike?
Then so be it.
He remembered a certain Machmon. Sleek, defiant, all speed and no brakes. Naruto had literally raced him before—because of course he had—and beaten him by transforming himself into a motorbike. (It was still in his top 10 most bizarre accomplishments. Just below the time he defeated a sentient tree.)
So when Naruto found that very same Machmon, locked in a deadly struggle with a spider Digimon the size of a house and twice as rude, he didn't hesitate.
He charged in, his Rasengan spinning to life with chakra-rich wind and defiance, slicing the spider's limb clean off like a hot knife through spider-leg butter. The beast screeched and scuttled off, vowing vengeance or at least some very aggressive webbing.
Machmon turned, blinking his neon-pink eyes. "You again?"
"Yeah," Naruto grinned, panting. "And I need a ride."
Machmon narrowed his visor. "Why?"
"Because I want to evolve," Naruto said plainly. "Because people are dying. Because we're losing. And because I beat you once… but right now, I need your speed."
A long pause followed. Then Machmon gave a huff.
"You turned into a bike and beat me at my own game. That was humiliating."
"Sorry about that."
"…I loved it," Machmon said dramatically. "And in times like this, a rider who can outpace death is exactly what I want."
They locked gazes—human(ish) and Digimon—as a new bond sparked.
Then Naruto leapt on, chakra coating Machmon's frame in glowing, golden light, etching him in runes and wind. The sound of energy surging was like thunder breaking free from a cage.
"Where are we going?" Machmon asked, revving up like a beast awakening.
"To Dragomon," Naruto replied, eyes blazing. "We're going to punch a sea immortal in the face."
And then they launched.
Through broken city streets and shattered code-scapes, they tore through space itself. The wind howled like banshees. The light bent around them. Data streams blurred past like fireflies on warp speed.
Naruto felt something change inside him—a flicker, a pulse, a crack in the ceiling of his form. Riding Machmon wasn't just a way to get there faster.
It was something more.
Like kindling meeting flame.
Like code finding a new algorithm.
Like memories becoming real.
Back at the battlefield, MagnaAngemon deflected a dark barrage from MetalEtemon with a holy cry. WereGarurumon hurled a freezing round that grazed the chrome digizoid armor.
"Where is he?" MagnaAngemon muttered.
Weregarrurumon, covered in scratches but grinning, replied,
"Hopefully getting us a miracle with handlebars."
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Dragomon loomed.
A cathedral of horror incarnate—gleaming tentacles slithered through air thick with malice. His gills flared with rage, and his many red eyes pulsed like warning beacons from the deep. A immortal of drowned things. A monster of old.
Piximon danced.
A pink blur against dark waves of corrupted water and glistening feelers. His golden spear struck out like lightning, precise and fluid. Each jab was a pinpoint of holy energy, and he moved with the calm madness of someone who had lived through a thousand wars.
"Tch—Persistent little bug, aren't you?" Dragomon snarled, his voice a thunderous gargle that cracked the ground.
Piximon spun midair and smirked, "You talk too much for someone with gills."
Then threw a shimmering Pixi Bomb at the base of one of the sea immortal's arms, causing a wet shriek as corrupt ichor sprayed.
That's when the ground trembled. A crack thundered from the city's icy edge.
ZUDOMON had arrived.
A beast of myth and brute ice, standing just as tall as the corrupted immortal before him.
From the dust and frost, he marched—a colossus in orange fur, tusks curled like primal sabers, dragging his Thor's Hammer behind him, the weapon glowing with arcane blue energy. Snowflakes spiraled from the impact of his footsteps. The air dropped in temperature with each breath he took.
"Piximon! Step back! This one's mine for now!" Zudomon bellowed, his voice like a crashing avalanche.
Piximon flipped away just in time as Dragomon reared back a tentacle the width of a bus.
Then came the first strike.
Zudomon hurled Thor's Hammer upward—CRACK!
The tentacle collided mid-air and instantly froze solid.
Dragomon hissed, confused—his flesh was ancient, armored by abyssal pressure and corrupted code, yet here it was, turning to ice.
Zudomon charged.
His massive frame belied his speed as he spun with hammer in both hands, bringing it down in a perfect arc.
BOOOM!
The hammer struck Dragomon's center mass. A pillar of frozen mist exploded outward, scattering shards of ice in every direction.
Dragomon recoiled. His tentacles flailed wildly, knocking over buildings like matchsticks. He summoned a vortex of corrupted water, sucking debris and light into a spinning void.
But Zudomon was already mid-leap.
He spun like a comet, and his hammer hit again—on Dragomon's back this time. The beast howled, staggering, as his armor began to fracture, the ice crawling across his slimy form like a virus.
"What are you?!" Dragomon roared, coughing bloodied pixels.
"Just a viking," Zudomon grinned, icy breath curling from his mouth, "with a really big hammer."
He slammed the ground with Thor's Hammer.
Instantly, the battlefield turned to glacial tundra. The city square froze, and jagged spears of ice erupted around Dragomon, cutting off escape.
Zudomon raised his hammer again.
This time, he poured everything into it. Ice energy blazed across the weapon's surface like the northern lights had been caged inside.
Piximon, circling above, yelled,
"NOW, ZUDO!!"
Zudomon swung down with all his fury.
"ICE HAMMER JUDGEMENT!!!"
The impact turned the air white.
The hammer collided with Dragomon's skull—cracking armor, smashing corrupted data into crystal fragments.
Time itself seemed to freeze.
Dragomon let out a bellow that rattled the digital sky.
And then…
A whistle pierced the moment.
A hum.
A blur.
Naruto.
Riding Machmon, chakra coating his body in a veil of wind and gold. In one hand, he held the Blade Kuwaga, its edge shimmering with sealing glyphs and sheer intent to evolve.
He blurred into sight.
Machmon's tires sparked as they skidded across the ice.
Naruto crouched low, ready to strike.
Time slowed.
Zudomon and Piximon turned, too late to warn him—
But he wasn't attacking Dragomon.
He was finishing Dragomon.
"SORRY GUYS!" Naruto called. "We need the data for an evolution!"
And then he sliced through.
Blade Kuwaga ignited, burning with explosive chakra force.
Naruto struck dead center, between Dragomon's flailing eyes, piercing into the immortal's corrupted core.
The sea immortal froze.
His body shattered, pixel by pixel—falling like snow in the light.
One final scream echoed.
Then silence.
Then light.
Zudomon blinked. "He just…"
Piximon nodded, "Yup. Bike boy just did that."
Naruto stood where the immortal had been, Blade Kuwaga resting against his shoulder. The data swirled upward, entering his body in luminous streams.