The Celestial Forge transformed from a place of learning into a high-tech war room. The holographic display in the center no longer showed historical data but a live, three-dimensional model of the solar system, with the Mars engagement frozen for analysis. Huo Tian stood before it, a king in his domain, the crystal crown on his head seeming less a burden and more a symbol of absolute authority.
"Hunting a general is not a task; it's a campaign," Huo Tian began, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. He didn't look at them, his eyes fixed on the tactical display. "A campaign requires intelligence, preparation, and a flawless execution. We have none of those things yet. We will acquire them."
Xiaoyun crossed his arms, a flicker of his old, fiery defensiveness surfacing. "And you're the one to lead this 'campaign'?"
Huo Tian finally turned, his gaze as sharp and cold as a shard of ice. "You are a pilot and a brawler, Xiaoyun. You have courage and instinct. I have strategy and resources. We fought a battle today and lost. I will not lose the war. Are you going to let your ego jeopardize the mission?"
The directness of the question, devoid of any malice and focused purely on the objective, disarmed Xiaoyun. He saw the logic, the cold, hard truth. He nodded slowly. "No. I won't."
Feng, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Now we're talking! Let's go tear that general apart!"
"Enthusiasm is not a substitute for a plan," Huo Tian said, turning back to the display. "Zihao, I want you to find a weakness. Every system has a flaw. His entropy field is a system. Find its frequency, its harmonic resonance, its power source. I don't care how theoretical it is. Find me a lever."
"On it," Zihao said, already pulling up complex quantum equations on a secondary console, his fingers a blur.
"Longwei," Huo Tian continued. "Your Zord is our shield. But a static shield is insufficient against a conceptual attack. Work with Zihao. I need a counter-concept. A field of 'order' to oppose his 'chaos'."
Longwei nodded, his expression grim but determined. "A shield that doesn't just block, but repairs. I understand."
"Xiaoyun, Feng," Huo Tian's gaze fell on them. "Your Zords are our spears. They are damaged. Repair them. And then modify them. I want raw, overwhelming power. I want weapons that can hit harder and faster than anything he can anticipate. Spare no expense. The resources of the Huo family are now the resources of the Mythical Domain."
For the next 72 hours, the Forge was a symphony of controlled chaos. Xiaoyun was a man possessed, working alongside Tian's automated repair drones. He wasn't just fixing the Phoenix Zord; he was rebuilding it. He installed a "Solar Flare Overdrive" system, a dangerous modification that would channel raw energy directly from the Qilin's reactor core into the Zord's weapons, a move that could either give them the edge they needed or vaporize the Zord from the inside out.
Feng, with Zihao's help, integrated "Ghost Phase" technology into the Tiger Zord's claws, allowing them to momentarily shift out of sync with normal space, enabling them to bypass conventional armor. Longwei and Zihao worked tirelessly, creating the "Aegis Field," a projected bubble of stabilized temporal energy that would actively reinforce the molecular structure of anything within its radius, a direct counter to Malakor's decay.
Huo Tian oversaw it all, a silent, watchful presence. He approved designs, rerouted power, and managed the logistical nightmare of their operation, all while maintaining his perfect grades at the academy. He was the conductor of their violent orchestra.
"We have it," Zihao announced on the third day, his voice hoarse from lack of sleep. "The entropy field operates on a sub-harmonic frequency. If we can broadcast a counter-frequency on a specific carrier wave, we can create pockets of stability—safe zones—within his field. But the broadcast needs to be incredibly powerful."
"We'll make it powerful," Huo Tian said. "Now, for the bait. General Malakor won't come to us. We have to create a target he cannot ignore."
He brought up a schematic of the asteroid belt. "The Abyss consumes life, order, and hope. We will give him a feast. We will deploy a series of harmonic resonators, linked to our Zords' power cores, in the remote Eros sector. When activated, they will generate a massive, stable energy field—a beacon of pure, ordered life energy in the middle of dead space. It will be an insult to everything the Abyss is. He will have no choice but to come and extinguish it."
The plan was audacious, arrogant, and perfectly in character for Huo Tian. It was a dare.
A day later, the Qilin, piloted by Xiaoyun, slipped into the desolate Eros sector. They deployed the resonators, which looked like metallic flowers blooming in the vacuum. The four Mythozords, now gleaming with new upgrades, took up positions within a dense asteroid field, their systems running silent.
"Activating the beacon," Zihao whispered.
In the center of their formation, the resonators flared to life. They didn't create a loud explosion, but a silent, beautiful wave of golden light that expanded outwards. The space within the field seemed to become... cleaner. The dust particles aligned, the light from the distant sun became clearer, and a feeling of profound peace and order radiated from the area. It was a garden in a graveyard.
They waited. For an hour, there was nothing. Then, the space directly above the beacon tore open. It wasn't a clean warp; it was a violent, ragged wound, from which poured a wave of pure cold.
Malakor's ship, the 'Silent Plague,' emerged. It was even more grotesque up close. The General himself descended, his purple runes glowing with malevolent intelligence.
"So, the sparks have learned to build a fire," his voice echoed in their minds, laced with contempt. "Let me extinguish it."
"NOW!" Huo Tian's voice commanded from the Qilin.
The ambush was sprung. The four Zords erupted from the asteroid field.
"Tiger Zord, Ghost Claws, engage!" Feng yelled, his Zord phasing through a volley of plasma fire and raking its claws across Malakor's armor. For the first time, the general staggered, a shower of black sparks erupting from the gash.
"Aegis Field, full power!" Longwei commanded. A bubble of shimmering, blue-white energy enveloped the team. Malakor's entropy wave washed over them and dissipated, unable to penetrate the field of ordered time.
"It's working!" Xiaoyun yelled. "Phoenix Zord, Solar Flare Overdrive!" He aimed the Zord's primary cannon, which now glowed with the intensity of a small star. A massive, searing beam of golden energy shot forth, striking Malakor head-on.
The General screamed, a psychic shriek of pure agony and rage. His armor cracked, his form flickering. They had him. They were winning.
They pressed the attack, a coordinated storm of fire, claws, and tactical strikes. Malakor was powerful, but he was a commander, not a frontline brawler. Against four upgraded, coordinated Mythozords, he was outmatched.
Finally, the Dragon Zord, using Zihao's predictive targeting, landed a final, devastating staff blow to Malakor's chest. The General's armor shattered, and he fell to one knee, his form wavering.
"This is... impossible," he rasped, his voice no longer a confident boom but a pained whisper.
"This is the price of underestimating us," Xiaoyun said, his Phoenix Zord standing over the fallen general.
Malakor looked up, and for the first time, they saw something other than contempt in his eyes. It was... triumph.
"You think this is a victory?" he rasped, a chilling, knowing smile spreading across his face. "You have merely... rung the dinner bell."
Before they could react, his body began to dissolve, not into dust, but into a massive, screaming wave of pure psychic energy. It wasn't a death; it was a signal. A beacon of its own, broadcasting one message: The sparks have learned to bite.
Far away, in the non-Euclidean depths of the Abyss, the three shadowy thrones of the Devil Kings trembled as the signal washed over them.
"The little sparks have learned to bite," a voice like grinding glass echoed. It was the Weaver of Lies. "Send them a proper response. Let the King of a Thousand Screams show them the true meaning of despair."
Back in the Eros sector, a new shadow-warp opened. It was infinitely larger and more terrifying than Malakor's. A ship, a grotesque mobile fortress that looked like a cathedral built from bone and nightmares, emerged. It dwarfed their Zords, dwarfed the Qilin.
On its bridge, a new figure stood, clad in armor that seemed to be forged from solidified agony. Its form was constantly shifting, and a thousand tormented faces seemed to scream silently from its surface. This was no mere general. This was one of the Devil Kings.
The four Rangers stared in horror from their cockpits, their victory turning to ash in their mouths. Their "hunt" had been successful. They had killed a general. And in doing so, they had just alerted the true masters of the Abyss to their location and their strength. The game had changed. The war had truly begun.