Midgard is divided into a total of ten regions, each managed by its respective Digimon Guild.

　　Among them, the Order of Holy Knights, Steel Legions, Atlantis, and Nether Club occupy the outer layers. The remaining guilds are enclosed within these, with the core area being the The ‘Drink’ Bar and the adjacent public grand garden connected to several regions—the Sylvan Garden.

　　This is the paradise of plants, the kingdom of fairies. Just standing at the edge of the region, one can feel the rich oxygen content within; it is so fresh and so soul-refreshing. Similar to “The ‘Drink’ Bar,” anyone can enter here, but recently it has been undergoing “internal maintenance,” and all non-guild members are prohibited from entering. There are even temporary sentry posts set up at the entrance, manned by several differently colored Piccolomon.

　　“Halt! Who goes there!?”

　　“Honored guests of your Chairman.”

　　Owl explained our purpose on our behalf. One Piccolomon went inside to relay the message. Soon after, the Lilimon who came out with it received us and led us into this massive “data” garden.

　　“It seems even our Free Birds aren’t known by everyone, huh?”

　　At these words, Dove couldn’t help but chuckle. Falcon walked ahead, baring his teeth in a grin but offering no comment. Owl looked a bit embarrassed and quickly explained to me, “They are all the Chairman’s servants, not players—genuine Digimon. You can’t expect them to recognize you naturally.”

　　Fine, I believed him. Or at least, I’d pretend I did.

　　The Chairman here goes by the name Flower, a 27-year-old from Singapore. She’s quite special; she never shows her true face in the Midgard system and always appears as BanchoLilimon. It’s said this is because she lacks confidence in her appearance—who knows if that’s true? In a garden draped with sprawling blooms, she had prepared floral tea, awaiting our arrival. Another person sat beside her—the one she had specifically notified.

　　“You didn’t say you’d called someone else.”

　　As usual, Owl went straight to the point, not mincing words with them.

　　From their conversation, I gathered they all knew each other, and their relationship seemed quite good, devoid of any stiff formalities. They spoke openly, laughing and joking. In fact, not just Owl, but Dove and Falcon also knew who the other person was.

　　“Mr. Heath is the President of the Birdramon Commune,” Dove proactively introduced him to me. “A man with incredible social skills, naturally friendly, with friends all over the place. There’s almost no one he doesn’t get along with.”

　　“You guys too?” I asked.

　　“Of course,” Dove replied. “He’s my savior. When I first entered Midgard as a Terriermon, I loved wandering around the Digital World. Once, I accidentally fell off a cliff, unable to move, and was surrounded by a bunch of Togemon with no eyes on their backs—almost got pricked to death. He happened to be flying by, heard my cries for help, and descended from the sky with a flock of Birdramon to rescue me.”

　　His words were filled with respect for Mr. Heath, which left me quite touched.

　　To this day, Dove is deeply grateful for Mr. Heath’s rescue. Even though he’s not yet of drinking age, he still frequently runs over to Chairman Adam’s place to treat Mr. Heath to a drink after a long day of patrolling, just to help him relax.

　　“Yo, little Dove, long time no see! You’ve been well?”

　　“You too, Mr. Heath,” Dove smiled. “By the way, why are you here?”

　　“Chairman Flower invited two groups: yours and mine. The other little birds are circling in the sky; you can see them if you look up… well, they’re flying a bit high, doesn’t matter.”

　　Simply put, he was here to help us.

　　“What is so important that you need two groups?” Owl voiced this question on our behalf.

　　Chairman Flower looked slightly troubled, appearing exhausted as she acted coy with the two men. The conversation that followed was quite explicit, completely mismatched with her cute face. Dove and I flushed red, not daring to listen too closely, while only Falcon appeared excited, thoroughly enjoying it.

　　Suddenly, he interrupted Chairman Flower, “Wait a second, it appeared in your bedroom? Don’t tell me it wants to sleep… uh, no, it wants to share a bed with you?”

　　“That’s not it,” the Chairman shook her head. “It simply appeared… just like that, suddenly. You understand, right? One moment it wasn’t there, the next it was.”

　　The “it” they were referring to was the key target—or rather, the object—of this mission: Belphemon: Sleep Mode. It had mysteriously appeared in the Chairman’s room, startling her into summoning the fairies in the garden and the guild members nearby. Together, after exhausting every possible method and using every ounce of strength, they finally managed to move it from her room to the garden.

　　“So, you want us to help you transport this lethal thing back to the Digital World and then eliminate it?”

　　“Exactly! Mr. Heath, you understand me so well…”

　　“Hardly.” Mr. Heath sighed and turned his head toward Owl. “What do you say? You’re already here. Care to lend a hand to a beautiful lady?”

　　Owl didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he asked, “Do you have any idea how difficult this thing is to handle?”

　　“Of course,” Mr. Heath said easily. “At least, I’m no match for it. Our Birdramon Commune can only help you transport it out. Whether it can be dealt with is up to you Mega-levels.”

　　Hearing this, I couldn’t help but interject, asking Chairman Flower, “Why didn’t you call more people? They… don’t seem very willing.”

　　“None of them were willing, and I couldn’t count on anyone else.”

　　As she spoke, Flower scanned my body from head to toe, a satisfied smile appearing on her face. Then, before I could notice, she reached out and grabbed my waist, lunging into my chest. She buried her face in my bosom, rubbing against me while tearfully recounting her plight, “Waaah! I… I am a Chairman after all, and I asked so many people, but only you guys were willing to help me. I’m so moved, waaah, really moved… I wonder if you can help me…”

　　“That depends on whether our Captain agrees.”

　　“Persuade him for me! Please! Please—”

　　“I…”

　　I really couldn’t stand her. This woman dared to openly grope me under this pretext, right in broad daylight. From my lower back all the way down to my rear, I was nearly rubbed to a sheen, and she still wouldn’t let go, instead squeezing tighter and with more force. No matter how I struggled, she remained unmoved, clearly intending to take advantage of me from the start.

　　I have to admit, the Sylvan Garden is truly “sylvan”—everything is so natural, so blatant. It was one thing for her to take liberties, but Falcon was benefiting too; he stared directly at us, not helping me at all, but watched with fascination as if he were learning techniques. Meanwhile, he kept providing cover for the Chairman, chiming in with supportive words so the others wouldn’t pay attention to us. They were truly a pair made in heaven; it would be a pity if they didn’t end up together.

　　“Owl, just agree,” I suggested. “Looking at how pitiful the Chairman is, let’s just help her.”

　　As I spoke, Flower was continuing her exploration down my thighs. I grabbed her hand and forcefully pulled it away, then, with a hint of a sinister smile, I curved my knuckles and poked hard into her exposed navel. Coldly, I told her, “You’d better restrain yourself. That way, none of us lose face.”

　　In other words, I was showing her: This sister isn’t a pushover!

　　She slowly raised a hand in agreement. Since things were as they were, I didn’t want to torment her further—I’d just assume she was jealous earlier. At most, I’d let her take advantage once; it’s not my actual body anyway.

　　After some deliberation, Owl and Mr. Heath’s opinions aligned: they decided to help.

　　“Th-thank you…”

　　Flower was clutching her stomach, her face looking none too good. Mr. Heath noticed and was quite puzzled, “What is with you? What happened? Did you eat something bad?”

　　She could only nod helplessly.

　　“Then it’s settled.”

　　Owl shifted the topic, turning his eyes toward Chairman Flower and bringing up another matter, “Is there a person named ‘Snake’ here? Our newcomer is looking for her. If you can contact her, please make it convenient for us.”

　　“Deal.”

　　Flower raised a hand in an “OK” gesture. “The Lilimon who led you in will take you over. I’ll contact Snake and ensure you meet her when you return.”

　　Owl’s move was executed flawlessly; I have to look at him in a new light now.

　　The sleeping Belphemon looked like a massive plush doll—black and round, with a pair of horns on its head and something resembling either ears or wings behind its head. It appeared unusually cute. Even so, it was not to be trifled with; just a single yawn could release a powerful shockwave.

　　According to the Lilimon, at first, Chairman Flower wanted to use her kick technique, Twin Petal, to move it out of the room, but she was met with its retaliation. Black flames, Lampranthus, were released from the chains wrapped around its body, not only burning half of the Chairman’s calf but also incinerating several flower breeding rooms in a row. With a series of flower embryos destroyed, the Chairman, in a fit of rage, unleashed her ultimate technique, Absolute Territory, swinging her yo-yo to slice through space, and used this spatial tunnel as a path to finally transfer it to the garden through a combined effort.

　　“You guys really didn’t have it easy.”

　　If it weren’t for “it,” the Sylvan Garden wouldn’t be having any “internal maintenance.” These were all excuses made up on the spot to prevent any panic in the outside world.

　　“Why?” I was quite puzzled. “Isn’t it usually better to spread the news as widely as possible so more people come to help?”

　　“That is Belphemon.”

　　“So?”

　　“You’re a Mega, so you aren’t afraid. We’re different,” the Lilimon told me. “Take me for example; I am just a fairy-type Data-attribute. Meeting a Demon Lord-type Virus-attribute like Belphemon means only death.”

　　I understood.

　　In other words, the reason everyone didn’t come to help was simply because they were afraid of losing their lives. Thinking about it now, I might have been a bit impulsive just then. Owl and Mr. Heath too—they could have refused my suggestion or even ignored me altogether.

　　“Sigh, this is a tough battle,” Falcon couldn’t help but sigh. “Eliminating it isn’t hard; everyone just needs to use their ultimates together to hit it. The problem is how to ensure it doesn’t switch into Rage Mode after that.”

　　“Is there a difference?”

　　“A huge one,” Falcon slapped his face to steel himself and told me. “In Sleep Mode, it won’t actively attack as long as we aren’t too rough with it. But if it switches to Rage Mode… let’s just say, at that point, you’ll have to pray for yourself. Even my speed might not be enough to save you in time. Any Digimon that hasn’t reached the Ultimate (Perfect) level will die instantly from data decomposition if hit by its roar; even Megas will be severely wounded, and some might even die.”

　　His description was very grave, and Owl listened without offering any rebuttal. It showed that at least during this time, Falcon was no longer the man whose head was filled with perverted thoughts; he was also considering the team’s future, trying to find a way to save as many as possible.

　　I walked to Owl’s side, staring at the massive Demon Lord suspended in mid-air. I asked him, “What do you say, Captain? Are you confident in this ‘Raid’?”

　　I wasn’t wrong; a Targeted Raid is also a raid.

　　“Not at all,” Owl shook his head and asked me, “Is it too late to regret now?”

　　“It’s not,” I stated seriously. “As long as you can swallow your pride and tell Chairman Flower to her face that you’re afraid of death and so are we—we’d follow you away quite willingly.”

　　He gave me a bitter smile, then reached out and patted my shoulder as he passed by me, while also reminding me, “Don’t be careless. The opponent is strong. I’ll leave the Support to you, Sakura. Don’t die before we do.”

　　That wasn’t up to me; it was in the hands of fate.

　　Mr. Heath had already switched to his Garudamon form and flown into the sky to rendezvous with his commune members; they were about to begin the transport mission for the sleeping Belphemon. The specific method was to use a temporary fire-wall composed of thousands of Birdramon to push it bit by bit toward the outer perimeter of the Sylvan Garden, and then it would be completely sent out by a second group of members waiting at the Midgard Square. During this process, it would be best if anyone were willing to lend a hand; if not, they could only sacrifice a portion of the Birdramon as a price to transfer such a massive security hazard, preventing more people from losing their lives in vain.

　　“Are those Birdramon… those people, going to die?”

　　“Yes, they prepared themselves for this a long time ago,” Mr. Heath said meaningfully. “The vast majority of them are terminally ill patients from all corners of the world. They help each other out, like a family, so none of them wants to be separated from the rest.”

　　“Then why would they still…”

　　“It’s strange, right? I think so too. Even though they know they will die, they scramble and fight to be the ones to sacrifice themselves. It’s a mindset that’s hard for us to understand, so we can only choose to respect it.”

　　They were all heroes. The wall of life forged by these heroes would undoubtedly protect the innocent, as well as those who lacked the strength to help themselves—those who had received their aid in the past, knew gratitude, but didn’t have the power to return the favor. In the future, they would take the place of these heroes, continuing to inherit and carry forward this spirit, becoming an eternal, undying flame within Midgard.

　　“Are you ready?” Mr. Heath hollered to Owl in the distance.

　　“Bring it on.”

　　Mr. Heath took full command of the operation.

　　While they were responsible for the transport, we were responsible for guarding the cargo—Belphemon—just in case it suddenly woke up and switched into Rage Mode. If necessary, we would sacrifice our small selves for the greater good and become part of that undying flame.

　　“The Belphemon Transfer Operation begins now! First echelon, take flight! ‘Meteor Wing’ formation, ready! Second echelon, stand by for orders! Sync-wall coordinates confirmed, execute swiftly! Nine, eight, seven, six, keep up in the back…”

　　Such a dangerous request would be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Otherwise, even Owl would feel that while our spirits were willing, our lives were not nearly expendable enough.

　　“‘Free Birds’, prepare to receive the mission.”

　　“Copy that.”

　　Then, through our Captain Owl’s mouth, the first operational command was given to us: “Raid, start! ‘Free Birds’, all members enter high alert. Ensure the path ahead remains completely clear. Falcon, clear the way into the vanguard. Dove, go help Falcon evacuate the crowds. Sakura, watch our rear, and be careful not to get caught in the collateral damage of a falling ‘Meteor Wing’…”

　　“Understood.”

　　“Understood.”

　　“Alright, I got it.”