The Mega Weapon rested in my hands, heavier than it looked—not in mass, but in meaning.Four Golden Weapons, reforged into something that was never meant to exist for long.
Creation. Destruction. Lightning. Ice. Earth. Fire.
Correction.
Power like this wasn't meant to be used. It was meant to be survived.
Golden light crawled up my arms like living veins, testing me, probing for weakness. I tightened the spells layered around my body—containment sigils, soul anchors, temporal stabilizers. Even so, my breath hitched.
So this was what Garmadon had felt.
No.This was worse.
Because I understood it.
The Mega Weapon didn't whisper temptation. It didn't beg.It simply waited, like reality itself holding its breath, ready to be rewritten.
I could feel the world around me—every fracture in the timeline, every wrong turn, every scar left by destiny. The temptation wasn't to rule.
It was to fix.
I closed my eyes.
"No," I murmured to myself. "Not yet."
I lifted the Mega Weapon slightly and focused—not on change, but on precision. If I was going to test it, I would do so carefully. One correction. Small. Controlled.
I turned my awareness outward, past the Golden Peaks, past the seas, past the battles already fought.
And I felt it.
A ripple.
A misalignment—subtle, but wrong. A village that had been erased too early by one of Garmadon's careless experiments. Not meant to be destroyed. Not yet.
Perfect.
I raised the Mega Weapon and spoke—not a wish, not a command, but an instruction.
"Restore what was removed. Nothing more."
The Golden Weapons flared.
For a heartbeat, reality bent.
Somewhere far away, a village reappeared exactly as it had been moments before its destruction. No memories altered. No destinies changed. Time stitched itself closed as if the wound had never existed.
The light faded.
I staggered back, gasping—not from pain, but from strain. The spells around me flickered violently before stabilizing.
So it worked.
And it didn't kill me.
That was… alarming.
I looked down at the Mega Weapon again, this time with something closer to fear.
This wasn't just power.
This was authorship.
If I used it too much, the world wouldn't push back—it would adapt, reshaping itself around my corrections until I became a fixed point in the narrative.
Until I became unavoidable.
Until I became the problem.
"No," I said again, firmer this time.
I couldn't keep it.But I couldn't destroy it either—not without consequences I didn't fully understand.
And I definitely couldn't let Garmadon get it back.
Which meant there was only one option.
I opened another portal, this one layered with dimensional locks, time dilation, and concealment spells so dense they made my head ache. A place outside Ninjago's flow of history. Somewhere the Mega Weapon couldn't accidentally rewrite existence just by existing.
As I stepped through, I felt something shift.
A tug.
Like destiny noticing me for the first time.
Somewhere behind me, Wu would soon realize the Mega Weapon was gone.Somewhere else, Garmadon would feel its absence like a missing limb.And somewhere very close, Lloyd's path would quietly, subtly change—not enough to derail him, but enough that he'd have to become strong on his own.
Good.
That was how it should be.
I looked down at the Mega Weapon one last time before sealing it away.
"Power of correction," I whispered. "You don't fix stories. You erase them."
And I wasn't ready to do that.
Not yet.