Without Luke, the duo felt quite bare, as though a vital piece of their team was missing. The silence that had once been filled with Luke's impulsive quips and brash confidence now felt heavy and oppressive.

"It's strange," Tara murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "Fighting without Luke... It feels..."

"Empty?" Eren finished for her, his voice tinged with a sadness that mirrored her own.

Tara nodded. "He may have been impulsive, arrogant even, but he was also our friend. He had our backs."

Without Luke, the duo felt as though a vital piece of their team was missing. The silence that had once been filled with Luke's impulsive quips and brash confidence now felt heavy and oppressive.

Eren clenched his fists, the memory of Luke's departure still fresh in his mind. He understood Luke's reasons, his need to fight for something he believed in wholeheartedly. But that didn't make his absence any easier to bear.

"He made his choice," Eren said, his voice firm despite the ache in his heart. "We have to respect that. But that doesn't mean we have to forget him. We fight for him too, for the ideals he believed in."

Tara met his gaze, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "We fight for all those who have been hurt by the Nether," she said, her voice steady with conviction. "We fight for those who can't fight for themselves."

---

As Eren and Tara prepared to embark on the rescue mission, the weight of their task hung heavy in the air.

Just as they were about to depart, footsteps echoed through the hallway, halting their progress.

"I heard about the mission," Leo said, his voice carrying gravitas. "And I'm coming with you."

Tara looked at him, surprise and relief mingling in her expression. "Leo, we—"

He raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "No arguments. I know we're down a man, and Mia's in trouble. Besides," he paused, his gaze firm and unwavering, "I have a feeling this one's going to be tougher than anything we've faced before. You're going to need all the help you can get."

Eren nodded, the determination in Leo's eyes mirroring his own. "We're glad to have you with us, Leo. This mission... it's personal."

Leo clapped a hand on Eren's shoulder, "Let's bring Mia back," he said.

As they made their way to the rendezvous point, Tara couldn't help but voice the concern that had been gnawing at her. "What if it's a trap? We know the Nether's been lying in wait for us."

Eren glanced at Leo, who was checking his equipment with practiced ease. "Then we spring the trap," Leo responded without looking up. "And we make sure we're the ones walking away from it."

---

Their arrival at the warehouse was met with an eerie silence, the building looming like a silent predator in the darkness of the night.

Eren took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Stay sharp," he murmured, leading the way with Tara and Leo flanking him. Every shadow seemed to stretch and twist, as if animated by the malevolent will of their enemies.

They breached the door, their senses on high alert. The warehouse was empty, the only sound the echo of their footsteps on the concrete floor.

The silence was shattered as the warehouse walls flickered, dissolving into shimmering pixels.

The concrete floor beneath their feet gave way to a dizzying digital landscape, code cascading into an abyss that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Eren stumbled, his senses reeling. His ability to detect deception, usually a reliable compass, was now useless.

The very fabric of this place was a lie, a digital mirage designed to disorient and deceive.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"What is this?" Tara gasped, her voice barely audible above the hum of digital energy that filled the air.

Eren shook his head, his mind struggling to process the impossible scene before him. "It's... It's a trap," he stammered.

Leo, his eyes narrowed, scanned the shifting landscape. "A digital trap," he muttered. "The Nether's playing games."

Suddenly, figures materialized from the digital mist, their forms flickering in and out of existence. They were Nether operatives, their eyes glowing with malevolent red light.

"They're here!" Leo roared, his fists crackling with energy.

Eren knew that fighting in this digital realm would be different, that the rules of reality no longer applied. But they had no choice.

The battle that ensued was unlike anything they had ever experienced. The Nether operatives seemed to phase in and out of existence, their attacks coming from unexpected angles. The digital landscape shifted and morphed around them, creating treacherous chasms and dizzying heights.

Eren fought with grim determination, yet could feel his energy draining, the digital realm sapping his strength with every passing moment.

As the battle raged on, Eren felt a growing sense of despair. They were fighting a losing battle, their strength and skills no match for the digital might of the Nether.

But then, he saw her. Mia. She was trapped in a cage of digital energy, her face pale and drawn.

"Mia!" Eren shouted, his voice filled with a surge of renewed hope.

Eren surged forward, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. He had to reach her, had to free her from the Nether's clutches.

But as he drew closer, a chilling realization washed over him.

The Mia trapped within the cage was not flesh and blood, but a digital construct, a mere projection of the real Mia.

But this was enough for the entity behind it, as a cruel laugh echoed through the digital void, its source seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Foolish Guardians," the voice boomed, its tone dripping with malice.

Eren whirled around, his eyes searching for the source of the voice. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice echoing through the digital void.

"I am who they call the Digital Demon," the voice replied, its tone laced with a chilling amusement. "And this," the voice gestured to the shifting digital landscape, "this is my domain."

Eren felt a cold dread creep into his heart. He had heard whispers of the Digital Demon, a being of immense power who could manipulate the digital realm at will.

But he had never imagined facing such a foe, a being who seemed to defy the very laws of reality.

"You cannot defeat me here," the Digital Demon taunted. "This is my world, and you are but pawns in my game."

The digital landscape began to shift and morph, the ground beneath their feet dissolving into a swirling vortex of code.

Eren felt himself falling, his body weightless and adrift in the digital sea.

He saw the digital Mia dissipating into thin air.

He saw Tara and Leo falling too, their faces etched with fear and confusion. He reached out to them, but his hand grasped only empty air.

He was alone, lost in a digital nightmare with no way out.

---

Tara felt herself falling, her body tumbling through the digital void. She saw Eren and Leo falling too, their faces contorted in fear.

She reached out to them, but her hand met only empty air. She was alone, adrift in a sea of code with no anchor, no direction.

Panic threatened to consume her, but she fought it back. She had to stay focused, had to find a way out of this digital nightmare.

She closed her eyes, focusing her mind, searching for a way to use her foresight in this chaotic realm.

Suddenly, she saw it. A faint glimmer of light, a path through the digital storm. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

She opened her eyes, her gaze fixed on the light. She had to reach it, had to follow it. It was their only hope of escape.

She began to swim through the digital sea, her movements slow and labored. The code swirled around her, threatening to pull her under, but she kept going, her eyes fixed on the light.

As she drew closer, she saw that the light was coming from a portal, a gateway out of the digital realm. But the portal was guarded by a figure, a digital manifestation of her own doubts and fears.

The figure wore her face, but its eyes were cold and empty, devoid of the warmth and compassion that defined Tara.

"You cannot escape," the figure said, its voice a chilling echo of her own. "You are weak, Tara. You are not worthy to be a Guardian."

Tara felt her resolve falter. The figure's words cut deep, echoing the doubts that had always lurked in the back of her mind.

Suddenly, she was no longer standing in the digital void, but in a familiar place: her childhood bedroom.

The walls were adorned with vibrant paintings, each one a testament to her artistic talent, her dreams. But the colors seemed muted now, overshadowed by a looming darkness that threatened to consume everything she held dear.

"I can't do it," the younger Tara whispered, her voice trembling with fear. "I'm not good enough. I'll never be good enough."

Tara felt a surge of protectiveness towards her younger self. She knew that feeling of inadequacy, the crippling fear of failure that had held her back for so long.

She knelt down beside her younger self, her eyes filled with compassion. "You are strong, Tara," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You are capable of anything you set your mind to."

The younger Tara looked up at her, her eyes filled with doubt. "But what if I fail? What if I'm not good enough?"

Tara smiled gently. "Everyone fails sometimes," she said. "But that doesn't mean you're not good enough. It just means you have to try again, harder this time."

She took the younger Tara's hand, her touch conveying a warmth and understanding that transcended words. "Don't let fear hold you back," she said. "Believe in yourself, Tara. You are stronger than you think."

A surge of warmth coursed through Tara, dispelling the chill that had settled in her bones. The younger Tara, her eyes now filled with a newfound determination, faded away, the bedroom dissolving around them.

Tara found herself back in the digital void, facing the portal and the digital manifestation of her doubts.

But the figure no longer seemed as formidable. The cold, empty eyes now held a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear.

"You are wrong," Tara said, her voice ringing with newfound confidence. "I am strong. I am a Guardian."

She raised her hand, summoning her bow and arrow. The digital figure mirrored her movement, its own bow shimmering into existence.

But Tara was no longer afraid. She drew back the string, her aim steady and true. She released the arrow, its trajectory a perfect arc of light that pierced the heart of the digital figure.

The figure shattered into a million pixels, its form dissolving into the digital void.