Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Digimon Adventure/02
Title: Spun of Shadows
Character: Apocalymon
Word Count: 497||Status: One-shot
Genre: Drama||Rated: G
Challenge: Digimon Flash Bingo; prompt #652, conscientious.
Summary: [one-shot, Digimon Flash Bingo, Apocalymon, au: breeds] Apocalymon does not like to create. But to save himself, he will go against his own nature.
Apocalymon didn't like creating. Destruction was far more his forte. But he knew the day would come when warriors would rise against him. As if they could ever defeat him, who came from the primal chaos of failed evolution!
What he did now made certain that whatever they tried, he would rise again. They might think he was defeated, but he would return. So, despite all of his inclinations being to shred everything in existence, he bent his efforts to create. Not just to create, but to create a being far superior to any other.
In looks, it would be mostly average. He didn't bother to set a personality; it would not be needed. But his creation…what did humans call it when they made a small version of themselves? Oh, yes.
His son would be far more powerful than any Digimon could ever hope to achieve on their own. All but indestructible –save to his own power, of course, he'd not let the child get above itself- and above all else, the perfect vessel for his own power.
While he existed because of failed evolution, he did have some measure of control over the process. He chose the powers his vessel would wield with all care. The child would be able to evolve, and he did craft the evolution with exquisite care. As humans and Digimon judged such matters, the higher evolution would be terrifying beyond all else.
Apocalymon eyed his unfinished work before him. If human or Digimon eyes were to see this, they'd see little more than a spark hanging in infinite space before Apocalymon himself. But that spark would grow and become much more, in due time.
The vessel needed a name. Though it would become him one day, it wasn't him yet, and Apocalymon refused to think of it as himself until it was. He was far more than this spark of pale consciousness.
A name came to him almost as soon as he considered the matter. A perfect name, one that said exactly what his offspring was: Akiragamon.
"An empty shell you are indeed." Apocalymon bent his will to the further spinning of his spawn, intent on creating a vessel that could never be defeated, regardless of what happened to him. One day he would inhabit this new body, he knew, and he would give it all the power that he wanted or had. He wished that he could spin it out into maturity at once, but even from behind his firewall, he knew that the guardians could sense the power he used. If he wielded too much of it, they would know what he planned and destroy his vessel to be. He'd already felt one of them in the area, though that one hadn't made any overt moves and likely didn't know what he had in mind.
Soon he would be finished, and no matter what happened in the future, he had a safe haven ready. He would always rise again.
The End
Notes: "Akiraga" does indeed mean 'empty shell'.