"Uuuelcome to the best place to be on the en-tire continent!" "On account of e'rywhere else falling to pieces." Witschapmon-" "An' Snoodschapmon-"

"Bringing to ya today's stellar entertainment."

"Field today is a good woodland mix-" "Trees an' brush, creeks an' holes-" "And the weather is low ground clouds. Name of today's game: keep away!" "As in, 'keep away from the pit boss.' So get good, scrubs."

"Big thanks to Scriermon for providing us close coverage of the action on site. And Castmon, piping it out across the continent."
"You won't want to miss a second."
"Here's our first round of contestants: a mixed team of rookies and champs, 5 in total." "If they're lucky, one of the little ones'll make it." "Timer starts the moment they step onto the field: 20 minutes overall, 8 minutes before pit boss enters." "Trust when we say you'll need all eight." "Do your best to hide-" "It'll give ya the chance to run when your teammates get caught."
"Everyone ready?" "Too bad, get in there!"

"MATCH, START!"

With a sigh, the Schapmon listened to Castmon complain about ratings. Ratings were down. Ratings were always down.

Sure, fair - numbers dropped daily. But percentages stayed high.

A fact that another board member stubbornly clung to in the ensuing argument.

No one would say it aloud, but they knew the reason for the front. As board head, he'd be responsible for sharing his findings with the Arena's master. And Legatemon had long been in foul spirits. As much as possible, he wanted to offer news that at least sounded good.

Legatemon didn't care if the substance was lacking, so long as it sounded good. He could then share that news with the masses and keep them relatively calm.

Scriermon lurked in the room, gazing into one of her mirrors - deeply invested in whatever she spied. She wasn't a board member, but they let her stay anyway. She never said much, and no one could begrudge her for hiding out…

So no one expected the interruption.

"I've lost another array."

Silence followed, then Snoodschapmon worked up the guts to ask. "How close?"

Scriermon shook her head and produced a series of mirrors, so all present could see. "Outer edge of the Rending Pits. Nearer the Taiga than here."

The tension didn't pass, but it lessened. Until Whitschapmon reminded what they didn't want to hear. "Won't be long now before it crosses…"

Another short fuss from Castmon - grumbling about numbers again. And even Snoodschapmon couldn't find the energy to butt heads over it. Numbers were down and dwindling every day. Just weren't enough 'mon to do everything.

Couldn't watch a match if you were forced into one. Couldn't be in one if you were gone.

"Celestials preserve us, was this our lot all along? This isn't supposed to be ."

The outburst - the board head, this time - bordered on a whimper, further agitating Castmon. He huffed. "You're all too trusting in powers beyond. They won't help us. No one to do that but us."

While Castmon got into it with everyone who took the bait, the Schapmon shared another look, determination flooding their system. He was wrong. Help would come. It had to.

Even if it meant dragging it here by its ears.

The conditions were right. Winds howling, sea boiling, data flowing in excess, always just out of reach. Unfamiliar script scrolled through the sky, illuminated by flashes of lightning. Organized in blocks, it meant something to the trained eye, but to Snood and Witschapmon might as well have been flocks of migrating BlackBirdmon.

"Are ya sure-" "This'll work."

"And we'll be-" "Okay. Probably. Maybe. Jus' shut up an' gimme a boost."

Witschapmon grimaced, but knelt so Snood could clamber up onto his shoulders. Then came the balancing act of standing up without pitching him forward. It took a few tries, but once they got it, Snood eyed the quickening script.

"Alright. Take your sword an' stick it in the ground." "And then what?" "An' then we say it like we practiced, okay? Shut up an' stick your sword in the dirt!"

Grumbling Whit did as told. Snood mirrored by pointing his club at the data overflow.

Then things got wild.

A crackling roar. A bolt of energy. The ground quaked. The line held, but it wouldn't last long.

"New message to: Catalysts... Subject: Arenaaa Help!... Body: Remember us down here? 'Cuz we sure remember you and we need your help again. Now more'n ever. Please please PLEAAASE come back to us and lend an MC a hand? The sooner the better!.. Send!"

The line broke, surging even more energy through the Schapmon. And when it passed, it had fused them.

Four Schapmon tall, hooded, and two-faced, the new 'mon swayed in the wind.

"Ugh, did it work?" Came from the laughing mask.

"It fuckin' better 've," came from the snarling one.

They sighed in unison and turned away from the frantic sky-writing and the sea.

"The boss is gonna smack us for this…"