The emerald canopy of the Forest Zone dripped with the lingering moisture of the morning dew, the air thick with the scent of blooming Lumina-flora and damp earth. Sunlight, fractured by the dense foliage, painted dappled patterns on the forest floor where crimson-scaled Shoutmon stood, his metallic armor gleaming faintly in the ethereal light. The soft rustling of Whisperleaf trees formed a delicate melody, punctuated by the distant chirping of Sprite-birds hidden amongst the branches. A year had passed since Lord Bagra’s shadow fell upon the human realm, and Shoutmon, matured by conflict, now radiated a quiet strength. He carefully adjusted the long, yellow muffler draped around his neck, his blue eyes scanning the surrounding woods. A gentle breeze carried the scent of wild Berrystems, causing Shoutmon to inhale deeply, a nostalgic pang tugging at his heart. He remembered the raw, untamed energy of his youth, now tempered by wisdom and the weight of responsibility. His metallic fingers drummed a quiet rhythm against his armored thigh as he contemplated the task ahead, a mentor's concern etched upon his draconic features. A year had passed since the Shadow Lord Bagra's dark legions threatened to consume the Light Realm. Now, whispers of a forgotten conflict stirred once more in the heart of the verdant Forest Zone. Sunlight dappled through the emerald canopy, casting an ethereal glow upon the moss-covered stones. The air hung thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flora, a symphony of life juxtaposed against the lingering echoes of war. From the depths of the Whispering Woods emerged Shoutmon, a crimson dragon clad in metallic armor, his presence a beacon of resolute calm amidst the rustling leaves. He moved with a newfound wisdom, his every action measured and purposeful. The scars etched upon his scales told tales of battles fought and lessons learned. He now acted as a wise Mentor for everyone around him. "It's a pretty good day in the Digital World today" Shoutmon says