Six months after the showdown with Purple and Kerry... The sun was hidden, swallowed by thick cloud and the creeping mist that rolled across the ancient jungle ruins. The land was alive with the low groan of wind through shattered temples and gnarled trees. Birds didn’t sing. Insects didn’t stir. The jungle was holding its breath.
And in the middle of it stood Yellow.
His tall frame shimmered with electricity, pulses of radiant yellow arcing across the intricate plates of his black-and-yellow armor. It hugged his body like a second skin, flexing and flowing with every movement. The design was reptilian, organic, alive. Vents along the shoulders hissed steam. His eyes glowed a piercing gold behind his visor, scanning the ruins with focused intensity. He was built for speed, but it was more than that. He was a specter, a phantom of light—an assassin cloaked in velocity.
He wasn’t smiling now.
“Alright,” he whispered. “Let’s get this over with.”
He raised a hand and fired a small, focused pulse of energy—just enough to disturb the stillness. The bolt streaked through the ruins and exploded against a jagged temple wall.
The world trembled.
From the smoke, a shadow emerged.
Starmight Awakens
The monster stepped through the jungle mist like it was smoke. Towering. Dread incarnate.
Starmight.
He hovered a few feet above the ground, unnaturally still, limbs dangling slightly, head low. His body was monstrous—hewn muscle laced with molten-black cracks that glowed faintly red. His bones seemed too large for his skin, stretching and contorting him into something half-god, half-corpse. Crimson tendrils pulsed beneath a thick layer of hide, and the faint steam of decay hissed from his shoulders. Moss still clung to him from his long slumber beneath the stone.
And his face...
A skeletal mask was fused directly into his flesh, horns curving back over his skull like a crown. Behind the mask, glowing red eyes ignited—bright, unblinking, and full of a hunger that felt older than time.
He hummed.
A low, guttural sound.
Yellow tensed.
South America Shakes
Without a word, Yellow moved—vanishing in a golden streak. He darted between the trees, streaking through the underbrush. Trees splintered in his wake.
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And then, the first blast came.
A crimson beam of pure destruction screamed over Yellow’s shoulder, incinerating a wall of jungle and turning earth to glass. It came from Starmight’s eyes—twin lances of molten energy.
Yellow zigzagged, dodging left just in time to avoid a second blast.
“Alright, fine,” Yellow muttered, sprinting up the side of a cliff. “We’re doing this the hard way.”
He hit the top and launched himself into the air, hurling a Thunder Spike mid-flight. The lightning spear crackled through the sky—straight at Starmight.
Starmight hovered up—faster than expected. He blinked across the airspace like a nightmare, the spear missing him entirely.
Yellow landed and immediately activated Echo Step, creating three afterimages and weaving through trees.
But Starmight didn’t need to chase on foot.
He flew.
Like a falling star, he blitzed forward—massive, graceful, inescapable. The impact of his passage shattered the treetops. A beam lanced out mid-chase, grazing Yellow’s leg, searing the armor but not hitting flesh. Sparks flew. Yellow stumbled.
He recovered fast.
The hulking being tilted his head and vanished. In a blink, he reappeared inches from Yellow, his floating form accelerating unnaturally. Yellow barely dodged with Temporal Dash, but the air pressure from the near-miss sent him crashing through the forest floor.
He landed, armor sparking even more
“Noted,” he muttered, as Yellow led him through Brazil, leaping across collapsed temples, and urban ruins. of northern Brazil.
The Continental Chase
The battle spread across the continent. Through Colombia. Ecuador. Into Central America.
Every time Yellow thought he gained ground, a red light would flare behind him, and Starmight’s blood-eye beams would light up the night sky.
Cities were left crumbling. Roads split apart from near-misses. Mountains were scarred. The chase was apocalyptic.
At one point, in the highlands of Mexico, Yellow fired a Conductor’s Call into the air, summoning lightning from a clear sky. It struck Starmight dead-on.
The creature paused—smoke rising from his back.
But then grinning through his mask.
A second later, he blinked forward again. The beam came fast. Yellow dodged, but it singed a strip of his chest armor clean off. The circuits sparked and fizzled.
“Can’t keep this up,” Yellow said, grimacing.
He rocketed forward again—his Electro Bolt carrying him over the Gulf of Mexico.
The energy in his body was draining. His suit’s systems were beginning to throttle.
But he could see the lights of the North American continent now. One more stretch.
The Arctic Beckons
Yellow flew past the battered skyline of Chicago, banking hard toward the Great Lakes. Starmight was behind him, gaining, flying like a reaper. More blasts followed, carving smoking scars into the landscape.
Yellow activated Static Trap and left it behind—Starmight ignored it.
By the time Yellow reached the forests of Canada, his breath was ragged, his body aching. But he didn’t stop.
He couldn’t.
The North Pole was ahead.
That’s where Blue was. That was the only shot.
He whispered into his comm: “Blue... I really need you... ’cause I’m bringing company.”
Starmight’s shadow cast across the snow just as Yellow crossed into the tundra.
Another beam came—Yellow dodged. Barely. His side armor sparked and peeled.
He didn’t stop running.
To Be Continued
The polar winds howled.
Yellow, breathing hard, stumbled over a frozen ridge. His energy was flickering now, each footstep more sluggish than the last.
But Starmight was still behind him—hovering, patient, smiling.
And the chase... wasn’t over.
“Plan B,” Yellow muttered. “Please work.”
He vanished into the blizzard.
TO BE CONTINUED...
