The metallic box sat on the artificial sands of Technopia like a dark omen. It was cold to the touch, yet the air around it shimmered with a sickly, distorted heat.
"Take it to the base," Erif commanded, his voice muffled by the sleek, crimson helmet of his new Ignus suit. "We don't open this in public."
Back at Robert's high-tech sanctuary, they placed the box in a specialized containment room. The walls were reinforced glass, designed to withstand atmospheric pressure and elemental surges. The heroes stood behind the transparent barrier, watching as Erif's AI, Tetramax, ran a final diagnostic.
"A living thing is detected," the AI confirmed. "Three signatures. Biological, but... tainted."
Erif stepped toward the glass. He didn't wait for a key. He raised his hand, and a focused stream of white-hot fire licked the base of the metal box. "If they're in there, they'll talk when it gets hot enough."
Inside the box, muffled voices began to argue.
"It's getting hot! I think they went out. We can go out of this box!" the first soldier cried out in panic.
"Hush! Be quiet!" a second, harsher voice hissed.
"My leg! My leg is burning!" a third screamed.
Suddenly, the space inside the containment room distorted. A man draped in shadows and starlight appeared out of thin air—a teleporter. Before the heroes could breach the room, the man waved a hand. "Surrender to the Evil Supreme God," he sneered, his eyes glowing with a malevolent violet light. "Or you would see a big war."
In a flash of purple energy, the three soldiers and the messenger vanished.
"They were going to talk," Tom muttered, his fingers sparking with frustrated electricity. "He took them before they could reveal their boss."
The threat was not an empty one. Far across the dimensional rift, in the dark kingdom of Iqta, the Emperor Iqtadar stood over the three returned soldiers. They were trembling, smelling of scorched metal and failure.
"You were captured by children," Iqtadar said, his voice as sharp as a blade. "There is no place for losers in my court. But... I have a use for you."
He gestured to a massive, obsidian gate behind him—the entrance to the most dangerous prison in the multiverse. "If you release the Four Great Evil Fighters, I will leave you alive. Fail, and you should forget your life."
The soldiers looked at the gate and then at each other. "How? How can we do that?" the first stammered. "That prison is... it's a death trap."
"Yes," the second whispered. "We can't do that!"
With a lightning-fast motion, Iqtadar threw his signature weapon—the Septor. It hummed through the air, slicing into the third soldier's leg. The man collapsed, screaming.
"Next time, it is direct death," Iqtadar promised. "Any doubt?"
He began to chant in a low, guttural tongue—dark magic from the Book of Sin. Violet energy flowed from his fingertips into the soldiers, bloating their muscles and turning their eyes pitch black. Empowered by the darkness, they tore the obsidian gate from its hinges.
The Four Great Evil Fighters were free.
Iqtadar watched them emerge, then turned to the three soldiers who had served their purpose. With a casual wave of his hand, he vaporized them where they stood. "They were already dead when they lost," he muttered to the shadows. "Now... let the city of Technopia see what true monsters look like."