The silence between us felt heavier than any weight I'd ever lifted. Dick sat beside me in the staging chamber, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His Crest of Knowledge hung against his chest like an accusation, dark and lifeless. Mine pulsed with steady golden light, warm against my skin.
I wanted to say something. Anything. But what could I possibly say that wouldn't sound like pity? That failure was okay? It clearly wasn't. Not here. Not with Devimon's forces closing in and Ultimate-level Digimon working for him despite him only being a champion not to mention mega-level threats soon awakening across the Digital World. We needed every advantage, every boost, every evolution path unlocked. Dick knew that as well as I did.
Patamon pressed against my leg, offering silent comfort. Gatomon sat on my other side, tail wrapped around her paws, her instincts telling her to stay quiet. Even they understood the weight of what had just happened.
The third chamber door opened.
Kaldur emerged, and the Crest of Courage blazed across his chest like a miniature sun. His expression remained composed, but I caught the slight relaxation in his shoulders, the way his breathing steadied as Agumon and Palmon rushed to greet him. Relief. He'd faced whatever nightmare the trial had thrown at him and come through intact.
Dick's hands clenched into fists. He didn't look up.
Kaldur's eyes swept the staging area, taking in the situation instantly. His gaze lingered on Dick's darkened crest for a fraction of a second before he schooled his features back to neutral. Leadership training. Never let the team see doubt or pity. But I saw the concern flicker across his face before he locked it away.
One chamber remained active. Wally's trial.
---
From my throne in the Divine Space, I shifted my full attention to the speedster's chamber. The trial was already sixty-three percent complete, further along than I'd expected. The System had projected only a sixty-one percent success rate for Wally, which in practical terms meant a coin flip with slightly worse odds.
The Crest of Friendship's trial wasn't about physical speed or combat prowess. It was about connection, trust, and vulnerability. All the things Wally West did his absolute best to hide behind humor and bravado.
His chamber had manifested as a long corridor with doors on either side. Behind each door stood someone from his life: Barry Allen, Iris West, Artemis, the rest of the Young Justice team, his parents. But these weren't truly them. They were constructs, echo-templates designed to speak uncomfortable truths.
I watched Wally approach the door labeled 'Barry Allen.' He hesitated, hand hovering over the handle, before shoving it open with false confidence.
The construct-Barry looked exactly like the real Flash, down to the concerned furrow in his brow. "Wally. I've been meaning to talk to you about your performance."
"My performance is fine," Wally said quickly. Too quickly. "I'm getting faster every day. You said so yourself."
"I did say that." Construct-Barry's voice was gentle but firm. "Because I didn't want to hurt you. But the truth is, you'll never be as fast as me. You'll never be the Flash. You're the sidekick who got lucky with the same accident. Nothing more."
Wally flinched like he'd been struck. "That's not—"
"You know it's true," construct-Barry continued. "Why else do you make jokes constantly? Why else do you act like nothing matters? You're terrified that if you actually try, really try, you'll still fail. So you pretend you're not trying at all. That way, when you come up short, you can tell yourself it doesn't count."
The Crest of Friendship remained dark against Wally's chest.
I leaned forward, watching the speedster's face cycle through denial, anger, and finally something that looked like dawning horror. Because construct-Barry's words had hit their mark. They were designed to, crafted from psychological profiles I'd built watching Wally interact with his team and my memory of the show.
But the trial wasn't about hearing painful truths. It was about what came next.
Wally turned away from construct-Barry and moved to the next door. 'Dick Grayson' was written across it. He opened it without hesitation this time, as if ripping off a bandage.
Construct-Dick looked smaller somehow, younger than the real boy wonder. Vulnerable in a way the actual Dick never allowed himself to appear.
"You don't actually care about me," construct-Dick said flatly. "You care about having a friend who makes you look good by comparison. Someone who doesn't have powers, who you can outpace without trying. It makes you feel better about being slower than Barry."
"That's not true!" Wally's voice cracked. "Dick is my best friend. I care about him more than—"
"Then why don't you ever have real conversations with him?" Construct-Dick stepped closer. "Why is everything a joke? Why can't you ever be serious? Real friendship requires vulnerability, Wally. It requires actually letting people see the parts of you that aren't confident and funny. But you won't do that. You'd rather keep everyone at arm's length behind a wall of humor than risk them seeing you're just as scared and inadequate as everyone else."
Wally stood frozen in the doorway. I could see his chest heaving, could see the way his hands trembled slightly. The trial was breaking him down, layer by layer, stripping away the defenses he'd spent years building.
This was the moment. Either he'd shut down completely and the trial would end in failure, or he'd find the strength to push through and understand what friendship actually meant.
More doors opened on their own. Construct versions of Artemis, Robin, Aqualad, Conner, M'gann, all speaking variations of the same theme. You keep us away. You won't let us in. You're afraid that if we truly knew you, we'd realize you weren't worth knowing.
Wally sank to his knees in the center of the corridor, surrounded by accusations.
"Stop," he whispered. Then louder: "Stop!"
The constructs fell silent.
"You're right." Wally's voice was raw, stripped of its usual levity. "All of you are right. I am scared. I am inadequate. I'll never be the Flash. I'll never be as smart as Dick or as strong as Conner or as composed as Kaldur. I'm just the comic relief, the guy who makes jokes so nobody looks too closely at how average I really am."
The Crest of Friendship began to flicker with faint light.
"But," Wally continued, pushing himself back to his feet, "that doesn't mean I don't care about you. All of you. Yes, I hide behind humor. Yes, I'm terrified of being vulnerable. But I show up. Every single time, I show up. I run into danger beside you. I trust you to have my back. And maybe I'm not great at deep emotional conversations, but I'm trying. I'm here, in this nightmare corridor, listening to every fear I've ever had thrown back in my face, and I'm not running away I'm still here."
The light intensified, spreading through the crest like roots through soil.
"Friendship isn't just about being emotionally available," Wally said, and I could hear conviction building in his voice. "It's about being present. About showing up even when you're scared. About trusting people enough to fight beside them, even if you can't always find the words to express what they mean to you. My friends know I care. They know I'd run through fire for them. Maybe I need to work on the vulnerability part. But that doesn't mean what we have isn't real."
The Crest of Friendship blazed to life, blue-white light filling the entire corridor. The construct figures dissolved like mist, and Wally stood alone, breathing hard, his crest glowing steady and true against his chest.
"Trial complete," the mechanical voice announced.
From my throne, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. He'd done it. Against the odds, against his own worst instincts, Wally had found the core of what friendship meant and claimed his crest.
Three successes. One failure.
The System began the extraction sequence, pulling all four heroes from their chambers and transferring them to the reunion point outside the temple.
---
The world snapped back into focus, and suddenly I was standing in the Server Desert again, hot wind whipping across my face. Biyomon and Gabumon tackled me immediately, and I caught them both, laughing as the relief and joy of seeing them again washed through me.
"Wally! Your crest!" Biyomon chirped, pointing at my chest.
I looked down. The blue light pulsed against my skin, warm and real and undeniable. I'd actually done it. I'd passed.
Across the clearing, Kaldur stood with Agumon and Palmon, his own crest glowing just as brightly. Conner had Patamon and Gatomon pressed against his sides, his crest steady as ever. Three beacons of light in the desert afternoon.
And then I saw Dick.
He stood slightly apart from everyone else, Tentomon hovering near his shoulder, Gomamon at his feet. The Crest of Knowledge hung dark and lifeless against his chest, a black void surrounded by our success.
My stomach dropped. No. Dick was the smartest one among us. If anyone should have passed, it was him.
Piximon appeared at the temple entrance, floating forward on his tiny pencil. His ancient eyes swept across our group, taking in the three glowing crests and one dark failure. He let out a deep breath, and his expression held zero surprise.
"I knew it would be either the red head or the child who failed their trial," Piximon said, his voice carrying across the clearing. He shook his head slowly. "I hoped I was wrong, but..."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I'd been right there on the edge of failure myself. If the trial had lasted thirty seconds longer, if I hadn't found that core truth about friendship fast enough, it would have been my crest sitting dark and dead.
Dick's jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides. I could see the anger building behind his eyes, the desire to snap back at Piximon's casual dismissal. But nothing came out. No witty retort. No defensive argument. Just crushing silence.
Because what could he say? The evidence was literally glowing on our chests. Three successes and one failure. The weak link. The one who couldn't keep up.
Gomamon moved first, pressing against Dick's legs with surprising ferocity. "No way. There has to be another way for Dick to light his crest."
"I agree!" Tentomon buzzed higher, his voice firm despite his small size. "Don't give up, Dick. Failure is just another path on the road to knowledge. Only when you realize that will you get a step closer to getting your crest to glow."
Dick's expression cracked slightly. Not much. Just enough for me to see the gratitude and pain warring beneath the surface. His partners believed in him even when he couldn't believe in himself.
Piximon studied the scene, his ancient gaze moving from Dick to his defending partners and back again. "Perhaps," he said slowly. "But that is a lesson he must learn himself. We leave at dawn for the northern highlands. Devimon's corruption spreads faster now. Four days remain at most until his forces locate you on this continent. Best to be prepared."
The tiny trainer turned and floated back toward the temple, leaving us standing in the desert with the weight of what came next pressing down like the afternoon sun.
Kaldur moved toward Dick, leadership instincts overriding any awkwardness. But I saw Dick's shoulders tense, saw the way he turned slightly away, unable to face our team leader's inevitable attempt at encouragement.
Three crests glowing. One dark. And somewhere to the north, Devimon waited, growing stronger while we remained incomplete.