Wormmon walked through the corridors lined with the Emperor's red eyed slaves. If it weren't for the Dark Rings so many Digimon in such close proximity could never be possible. Nor could the variety: here a Devidramon; next to it, a Unimon; Diver and Scubamon waited for their orders next to Thundermon; really, the Digital World just never realized that Ken was turning it into a true utopia—there was no strife, no fights over territory, no wicked or corrupt, no worries about when and where the next meal was coming from; just those who lived to serve the Digimon Emperor.

As Wormmon convinced himself that his partner's actions had been just, the Emperor plotted just how to deal with the biggest remaining challenge: Zhuqiaomon. The Viral Sovereign of Fire held a separate advantage over each of his Slaves: Fire burned Wood and Virus was strong against Data. Ebonwumon, however was a Vaccine type, and so held some power there. Azulongmon would be best served on reserve. Still two tended to be better than one…

"Master?" Wormmon questioned. "The tethers have been set up, the fleet only awaits your orders and they will take Ebonwumon where he needs to go."

Absently, the Emperor nodded, mind focused on the battle that to come. Every successful tactician could tell you that every major campaign in history was fought a thousand times, as strategists poured over information, running through every possible scenario, no matter how unlikely, a hundred times to see each strike and counter blow. It was the one who prepared more and had more effectively used the resources available that would win. He already had one of each of the enemy's Gold and Silver Generals, now he would take the ones remaining!

Now then… Water and Vaccine Attacks would be important… Lightning and Wind were always strong against fliers in games for some reason… Yes that would work! The Emperor smirked. Time to capture the second Gold. He brought up the screen that showed Ebonwumon. Numerous ropes tied the Northern Slave to a plethora of flying Digimon would carry Ebonwumon to his play date with his Southern counterpart far faster than if the turtle had to either walk or swim. Afterward some might revert down to Fresh but they would Digivolve on command and would be given enough time to regain their strength.

He cracked his whip; even from here the Slaves knew their Master's order. If Ebonwumon had any reservations about the method of travel it was kept to himself as the Turtle Slave stayed perfectly still and kept his eyes wide open. The caravan headed south. Round Three was about to begin.

The Emperor surveyed his preparations dutifully—it would not do to lose this because one of his troops had ambled out of position. Ebonwumon was the centerpiece of his attack. His Attribute advantage should make up for the lack of attack power. Behind his Sovereign, the Emperor had positioned the rest of his army in staggered layers. The main weapons were water and Vaccine type strikes, which should be most effective against the Fire Vermillion Bird Virus. Above and further away were his Wind and Lightning type fighters, to keep Zhuqiaomon from flying too far away from the slower land-bound Sovereign. And should he prove too much for them, Azulongmon would be ready to strike the Southern Bird from the sky.

He was ready to begin: Boss Battle Commence! It began as a small flame on the ground, no bigger than that from a match head. Then with a thwuomp, it expanded into a campfire, from there it rushed to become a bonfire, and roared as it became a gigantic wildfire. The Emperor's Slaves did not move, were not impressed, because they had not been ordered to be. They held their ground even as the temperature began to heat up their rings to the point of beginning to sear their digital flesh. They did not cry out, they did not react, they did not notice; because they had not been ordered to. A shadow began to form in the inferno. And from the blaze a Bird took wing, carrying the fire with it. Its feathers danced with everything between red and yellow—and even some soot black—the bare talons the color of coals about to ignite: Zhuqiaomon.

"What is-?" was all the Southern Sovereign had time for before he was beset on all sides by attacks. The Slaves had needed no signal—the appearance of their target was their signal. The Emperor watched the slugfest between the two Sovereign with a frown on his face, the raw heat that radiated from Zhuqiaomon was enough of a shield that everything below Mega might not as well have been attacking.

"Ebonwumon? What is the meaning of this?" Zhuqiaomon demanded between his attacks.

"You will serve," Ebonwumon replied, punctuating his statement with another Kokuhyo. Zhuqiaomon returned fire and decided that he needed more information, which could only be gained away from the Psychotic Northern Turtle. As he tried to rise to a level that Ebonwumon could not hit he was struck down from behind.

Mid-fall Zhuqiaomon was able to turn his head to see Azulongmon had been the one to hit him! "It is right for you to serve, Zhuqiaomon! Stop resisting!" the Dragon Slave cried.

This could not be happening! Two Sovereign falling to darkness? "Betrayers!" Zhuqiaomon screeched. "You have betrayed me and the Digital World!" On instinct, the Southern Sovereign forced as much heat from his back as he could, and used the cushion of warm air to roll over and jink to his right. He felt something slip around his foot-wing, but he could not care. He had to get away from these two, had to find out if Baihumon was still with him or if he was the last… But far too soon he found that no matter how hard he flapped he did not move forward. Again he pushed his entire heat shield behind him to give himself thrust… He did not move. Something slipped round his other lower wing and suddenly his head was assaulted with a cacophony of the same phrase repeated a thousand times a second, each time with a different voice and a new inflection but always the same message: "You will serve."

"No… no, I won't!" Zhuqiaomon cried focusing most of his energy into making the damn voices shut up! With his mind stuck in his internal battle the Southern Sovereign had forgotten to expend the energy necessary to rebuild his heat shield. An unfamiliar weight settled around his neck and the voices receded until they were a dull murmur, in the back of his skull. They no longer needed to be loud, because either way he would be forced to listen.

"Do you serve me?" Zhuqiaomon heard a boy ask.

He turned to face the boy, the voices called him Master, it should have been so easy to end him and the threat he posed, but Zhuqiaomon could not, because the mark of his station forced him to answer the question and await orders. "Reluctantly," Zhuqiaomon replied, trying to ignite the child with his gaze alone.

"I don't care about reluctance, I care about obedience. Will you obey any order as soon as you receive it, even if it would been your deletion? Answer me honestly."

"Yes," Zhuqiaomon ground out.

The boy smiled. "Then proudly declare your allegiance to me."

"Hail to the Emperor," the Southern Sovereign spit out.

"Louder."

"ALL HAIL THE DIGIMON EMPEROR!" the Southern Slave cried out.