The air on the red shore was a dead, silent thing. The screams had faded, the chaos had subsided, leaving only the tableau of a devastating, one-sided slaughter. Kenjiro stood amidst the wreckage of his hopes, a lone, breathing figure in a field of ghosts, his grief a physical weight that threatened to crush his very soul. Before him, a nightmare given form, a broken god from a broken reality, stood ready to deliver the final, killing blow to a world that was already dead.

A voice, deep and familiar, a rumbling echo of pure, unadulterated rage, reverberated not in the air, but in the silent, shattered space of his own mind. It was his shadow.

"Let's go," it commanded, the words a surge of raw, defiant power that jolted Kenjiro from his grief-stricken paralysis. "We can do this. We are the monster. We are getting out of jail."

Kenjiro took a shaky breath, the fire of his shadow's will rekindling the embers of his own. He nodded, a single, sharp gesture of grim resolve, and then he charged. He was a blur of motion, a streak of purple and black against the crimson backdrop of the shore, his fists a whirlwind of desperate, furious energy aimed directly at the being who wore his friend's face.

The alternate 03 didn't even flinch. He just smirked, a lazy, condescending expression on his handsome, terrifying face. He dodged every single punch with an almost casual grace, weaving and sidestepping, his movements so fluid they seemed to mock the very concept of effort. "That's all you've got?" he asked, his voice a melodic baritone that was a chilling echo of the real 03's, but stripped of all its weary sadness, leaving only a core of pure, unadulterated malice.

And then, a shadow, darker than the ones that had just consumed his army, erupted from the ground behind the alternate. It was a perfect, spectral replica of 03's own shadow, its sword a sliver of solidified darkness. It pierced the alternate's heart from behind, a single, silent, and devastatingly precise strike.

"No," a familiar, flat voice said from beside Bombom. The real 03 was there, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. "But you should watch your back." His shadow twisted its sword, and the alternate's heart exploded in a shower of dark, glittering dust.

But it wasn't enough. The alternate didn't even gasp. He just looked down at the gaping, smoking hole in his chest with a look of mild annoyance. He blinked out of existence for a single, disorienting second, and then reappeared a few feet away, the wound already knitting itself back together, the flesh weaving itself whole as if it had never been damaged. "I already tried doing that," he said with a bored, triumphant smile.

03 let out a soft "tsk," the sound a quiet admission of a frustrating stalemate. He looked at Bombom, his mismatched eyes full of a grim, analytical light. "We'll need more than a distraction."

"Leave it to us," a voice, a chorus of a dozen familiar voices, boomed from behind them.

Bombom turned, and his breath caught in his throat. They were there. All of them. Gluteus, his star-forged armor gleaming even in the dim, bruised twilight. Lyrielle, her ancient tome already open, her emerald eyes glowing with a quiet, formidable power. Ryo and Kaito, side-by-side, ice and fire, their auras a swirling vortex of elemental energy. Taguro, his hands crackling with raw, untamed lightning. Jairson, a fresh carton of orange juice in one hand, his massive revolvers in the other. 9fingers and his bald, impeccably dressed partner, two sides of the same chaotic, larcenous coin. Leroy, his black, scarred armor a silent promise of an unending, relentless assault. And even SynchroNoice, his small frame filled with a new, strange confidence, his hand stroking his chin as he mentally prepared the full, terrifying might of his beard-based arsenal. His friends. His family. His army. They were back.

Gluteus didn't wait for a command. He leaped forward, ripping a massive, flat slab of volcanic rock from the ground and slamming it down, the impact a booming, undeniable taunt. Ryo, Kaito, and Taguro unleashed their power in a single, coordinated assault, a torrent of ice, fire, and lightning that converged on the alternate, forcing him to create a shield of pure darkness to block the attack. 9fingers zipped through the chaos, his spectral "Ghost Fingers" attempting to steal the very molecules from the air around their enemy. Jairson opened fire, his enchanted bullets a relentless barrage against the dark shield. Leroy, with his familiar, iconic scream, charged, his massive sword a blur of motion as he began to relentlessly slash at the alternate's defenses. And SynchroNoice, with a soft "boop" and a determined "Noice," mimicked Taguro's lightning, adding his own, smaller, but still significant, stream of electrical energy to the assault.

It was a beautiful, chaotic, and utterly magnificent symphony of destruction. And it was the opening Bombom and 03 needed.

Bombom charged, his muscular shadow erupting from his back, a towering phantom of pure, unadulterated rage. 03 was right beside him, his own shadow sword a sliver of solidified darkness. They were a two-man army, a perfect, devastating combination of brute force and surgical precision. Bombom's shadow punched, its massive fists a relentless barrage that shattered the alternate's dark shield. And in the split-second openings created by each impact, 03's shadow sword would dart in, its blade a blur of motion as it sliced and stabbed, leaving deep, smoking wounds that the alternate struggled to regenerate. It was a perfect, unending combo, a relentless assault from a dozen different angles, a storm of magic, steel, and pure, unadulterated willpower that gave the alternate no time to recover, no time to counterattack.

The being of broken divinity, the dark echo of a fallen god, screamed, a raw, primal sound of pure, unadulterated agony as he was overwhelmed, his form flickering, destabilizing, until finally, with a final, desperate shriek, he was obliterated, dissolving into a cloud of fine, gray dust that was scattered by the cold, sea breeze.

For a moment, there was silence. The battle was over. They had won.

"That was easy," Bombom laughed, a wide, triumphant grin on his face. "Too much easy."

Taguro laughed with him. "What do you expect? Our budget is kinda low."

Bombom looked at him, a confused expression on his face. "W-what does that mean?"

Gluteus clapped him on the shoulder, a massive, reassuring weight. "I think he means we did it," the giant laughed.

But 03 wasn't celebrating. "Why are you guys cheering?" he asked, his voice a cold, flat monotone. "It's not over."

"W-what?" DragonSlayer stammered, his usual arrogance completely gone, replaced by a weary, disbelieving exhaustion. "But we saw him turn into dust."

03 just pointed a slender, pale finger at the empty air. The gray dust that had been scattered on the wind began to swirl. It coalesced, it reformed, it solidified, until it once again took the form of the alternate 03, his clothes pristine, his body unharmed, a slow, condescending smile on his handsome, terrifying face. "I almost thought I was a goner this time," he said, his voice dripping with a mocking, triumphant amusement.

He raised a hand, and the world stopped.

Everyone, every single one of his friends, was frozen in place, trapped in a single, silent moment of time. The hover-drone, which had been capturing the whole thing, froze mid-flight, its red light a still, unblinking eye. But Bombom could still move. And so could 03.

"H-hey," Bombom stammered, his mind reeling as he looked at the frozen tableau of his friends. "He stopped time, but... why can I move?"

03 sighed, a long, weary sound of pure, unadulterated frustration. He put a hand to his face, rubbing his temples as if staving off a massive, cosmic headache. "You still don't get it, do you?" he asked, his voice full of a tired, almost pitying resignation. "You're one of my alternates."

The words hit Kenjiro with the force of a physical blow. The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He looked from his own, slender, delicate hands, to 03's calm, handsome face, to the mocking, triumphant smirk of their dark counterpart. "W-what?" he whispered, his voice a hoarse, strangled sound. "You mean... I'm you? And... also him?"

"See that, chat?" he said, a desperate, ingrained instinct causing him to turn to his frozen drone. "I'm super strong." He sighed, a wave of profound, soul-crushing disappointment washing over him. "Of course. No one will see us. As if they could see you two in the camera."

The alternate 03 glided closer, circling Bombom like a predator, his red eyes full of a strange, analytical curiosity. "That's unusual," he mused, a mocking lilt in his voice. "I never knew I could look this weird."

Bombom stomped his foot, a familiar, furious blush creeping up his neck. "W-what?! I'm not getting bullied by both of you!"

And then, something impossible happened. The alternate's burning red eyes flickered, replaced for a single, breathtaking second by two orbs of pure, brilliant white. His dark, malicious smirk vanished, replaced by a gentle, sad smile. "I'll need time," he whispered, his voice a chorus of a thousand heartbroken souls. "To make sure we are out... and I-"

"No," 03 cut him off, his voice a firm, unwavering command. "We need to either save you, or destroy you."

The alternate sighed, a long, weary sound that was a perfect echo of 03's own. He nodded, and his eyes flickered back to a burning, furious red.

"Remember the good adventures we had," 03 began, his voice surprisingly soft, almost gentle, the words clearly costing him a great deal of effort. "The friends we got. There's still hope for you."

Bombom, catching on, jumped in, his own voice full of a desperate, sincere urgency. "Oh, yeah! Remember our friends, our romantic partners, the family we had!" A thought, a cold, hard piece of logic, cut through his emotional plea. "I don't think he got a family to begin with..." he thought to himself.

The alternate just laughed, a high, broken sound that was full of a pain that was a thousand years old. "They are all gone," he whispered. "Just like they should be."

"You can just... go back in time," 03 said, his voice a low, pleading whisper. "And fix things."

The alternate scoffed. "Go back in time to fix it?" He laughed again, a sound that was full of a bitter, self-loathing despair. "I shouldn't fix anything. They broke me. The fake family we had... he..." His voice trailed off, the memory too painful, too raw to even speak.

"I know," 03 said, and for the first time, Kenjiro saw a flicker of genuine, soul-deep pain in his mismatched eyes. "It was the same for me. But you should focus on the people that are around you."

The alternate looked at the frozen tableau of Bombom's friends, at the strange, dysfunctional, but fiercely loyal family that had gathered to fight for a world that was not their own. He looked at them for a long, silent moment. "Alright," he scoffed, turning away, but there was a new, fragile hope in his voice. "I'll give you a chance. Since you're me. Open the bloody portal."

03 reached up and, with a sharp, decisive motion, tore a handful of feathers from his own magnificent, shadowy wing. He threw them into the air, and they erupted in a flash of dark energy, tearing a hole in reality, a swirling, golden vortex of pure, untainted light. "I think that will make you go back," he said, his voice a little shaky. "Good luck."

The alternate started walking towards the portal. As he did, his appearance began to shift. The stark, dead white in his hair softened, blending with the black until it was a perfect, harmonious balance. His burning red eyes cooled, one turning a brilliant, sky blue. And the broken, mangled stump of his left wing began to regenerate, unfurling into a magnificent, feathered wing of pure, white light. He was whole again. "Thanks for everything," he said, his voice a quiet, grateful whisper. And with that, he stepped into the portal and was gone.

The moment he vanished, time resumed. The world snapped back into motion.

Bombom let out a long, weary sigh. "I was expecting more action," he said, a flicker of his old, battle-hungry self returning.

"You will clearly get it, with your well-developed gluteus," 03 said, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk on his face. He opened a portal of pure darkness and stepped through it.

Bombom stomped his feet, his face flushing a deep, furious red. "W-WHAT?! YOU CAN'T BE SAYING THAT! YOU'RE ME! YOU'RE LISTENING TO ME?!" he yelled at the empty air where the portal had been.

Taguro came closer, clapping him on the back. "See?" he said with a cheerful, fourth-wall-breaking grin. "I told you we couldn't afford another fight."

Bombom sighed, the fight draining out of him, replaced by a profound, soul-deep exhaustion. "Whatever you say," he grumbled. "I just want to get home. And take a bath."

A collective, unified laugh went through the remaining heroes. They had faced the end of the world. They had lost friends. They had fought gods and monsters and echoes of themselves. But they had won. And now, all they wanted was to go home.

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