The usual spiel: I own nothing. Fans of Russian Lit will recognize some themes from The Grand Inquisitor. In case it's confusing, basically AncientWisetmon was the first to create of a Spirit of himself. It was just one spirit at first, but in the interests of peace, Ancientgreymon and Ancientgarurumon split it into two. This ties in with a LONG fanfiction I may or may not write and publish, so the child in question (at the end) may or may not be finally revealed. But I have attempted to write a standalone story that requires no sequel to be understood. Yes, Frontier is alluded to. You may ignore the child if you choose to. I never refer to AncientWisetmon as such because I figured in their time, they wouldn't really be ancient... The premise: Lucemon puts all of the Ancient Warriors to sleep under a spell and AW, being who he is, is the only one to resist successfully.
He floated upside down in a warm cocoon of blackness without any knowledge of how he had gotten there. All he could remember was pain. Not physical pain, but the pain of having your mind ripped from your body. Whereas when most digimon die, some other catalyst rips their body apart so much that they couldn't contain their spirits anymore, he had the honor of having his spirit torn from his still living body, already half a corpse. The more he resisted, it seemed, the more intense it became. Every limb was aflame. The Warrior of Steel had thought his element would protect him from torture, but in that moment he would concede to anything- anything, to get the pain to stop. Such is the pain that bends Steel.
"You're making it so hard for yourself, my friend. If you'd just let go… you'd find yourself in paradise, all your cares and losses behind you. Here let me help you." A kindly Voice cooed, nothing but genuine concern emanating from it.
The pain had only increased. Somehow that Voice had something to do with what was happening to him, of that much he was certain. He couldn't help but scoff, as much as he could in this state, at the hypocrisy of the Voice. If he had really cared for his suffering, he would just let him be. Whatever the Voice was coaxing him towards, it's greater and more terrible than any torture he was currently suffering. As soon as he was able to form that thought, the pain ceased, its echoes ravaging his body like shock waves. For a moment he couldn't tell if he was out of his prison of agony, and then he slowly opened his eyes.
When his vision had focused, he saw his comrades floating lifelessly, just like him. Their eyes were open, and they say eyes are windows to the soul. They were alive, he sensed, but in that moment he wished they were dead. What he saw chilled him to his core. Dead eyes, empty of spirit. They were shells of what his friends had one been: fierce, compassionate and unflappable. Then he knew they had all gone through the same ordeal, and had given in. This couldn't be them. Nothing in the world could bend the Elemental Warriors. Is there? But then he didn't think anything was capable of bending him, either.
"So, you survived." Lucemon sneered, all traces of kindness gone from his beautifully sculpted face, his white aura flickering dangerously. He had to be calm. He had to get to the bottom of this. With as much courage as he could summon, he compelled himself to speak.
"So what's this paradise you promised? I must confess that for a moment there you intrigued me." He responded, keeping his voice even and nonchalant. He had only one clear goal: to keep him talking. He knew what kind of individual Lucemon was. If only indirectly, his ego had to be stroked. He gestured to his friends. "Have they gone to paradise too?"
Lucemon's expression softened, his face taking on the stunning innocent quality which had enchanted many digimon. "Oh yes, most assuredly so. I can guarantee you they showed no resistance. Once they saw what was there, why would they want to turn their back on it? They say you are the wisest of them all, so your behavior, if I might say this without causing offense, puzzles me. It seems your friends are ahead of you in wisdom." No doubt about it: once Lucemon thinks he had an admirer, the change in his behavior was drastic.
"You say I'm the wisest, so I should best explain my motives to you. Simply, you told me nothing and gave me no choice. How was I to know you were not leading me to some sort of hell? You angel types can access both places, as I have learned. So tell me more, Lucemon, and maybe I will be moved to your opinion." He adopted a impassive tone laced with casual curiosity, careful to keep his intentions hidden. His face held a schooled stoicism honed through centuries of meditation.
"Ah. So you are wise. But not wise enough. If you were, you would be fully convinced of my benevolence and that everything I do, I do for the good of all. This is why I had to force this upon you and your friends. You would never have submitted willingly to ultimate goodness. You needed to see paradise to believe it, no matter how foolish it was to ever doubt me."
"Is taking away our free choice part of your paradise?"
"But of course." Lucemon's tone permitted no objection. "You have lived through countless generations, my friend, and have seen more than perhaps even myself, and I have witnessed stupidity and evil to last many lifetimes. You should know this better than me. Ever since I had descended upon this world, Human and Beast digimon had been at war. No rationale was ever required for their destroying themselves and their world, only their bloodlust. This is the essence of chaos, and perhaps this is why I was born: out of the desire by all digimon for peace at last. This destruction is something that must never be permitted again if the world was to survive. Better that they are reigned by a strong master than to allow this violence to continue." He delivered the last line with what seemed like grim, righteous resolve.
"Choice was a privilege given to them," he continued, not waiting for his interlocutor to respond, "and they have shown themselves time and again to be unworthy. They want to be helped, yet they will not help themselves. I, Lucemon, shall put food on their plates and safety in their hearths. The only price is total obedience: the price of paradise on Earth. Once I have destroyed and remade this world in my own image, Elysium will arrive at last." As he neared the end of his speech, he turned his eyes towards the heavens, as though witnessing the final act of a grand opera, a quiet rapture lining his features.
Talking would do nothing more for him, he decided. Lucemon's mind was set, and so was his. This could only end in death. The only thing left he had to be certain of was that his friends must be rescued from their daze whatever the cost. He now knew the source of Lucemon's unnatural powers: desperation. The longing for all digimon for peace. They had wanted peace, yes, but only through the destruction and utter subjugation of their foes. Lucemon was the manifestation of this dark desire. A power born by such anguish was not something he alone could vanquish. The path forward seems clear.
"What do you say?" Lucemon turned to him cheerfully, the question fully rhetorical. He remained thoughtfully silent. Now is not the time to argue with the fallen angel.
"I need… time…" He said at long last.
"We've got all of eternity, my friend. You'll come around. I have every faith in you." Once again, he was struck by the charming grin that played on Lucemon's lips. No wonder so many digimon were enchanted by this boy. He slowly walked towards Lucemon, his hand outstretched and his long sleeves billowing. Lucemon, for his part, smiled, seemingly truly delighted, and took his hand. Everything is ready. It all rides on this moment.
"Thank you, Lucemon, for your time." He said smoothly, finally breaking a smile of his own. "Laplace's Demon!"
The world instantly melted away, and a black mist surrounded them. When it had vanished, both of them found themselves in a field impossibly bright.
"What have you done?!" Lucemon screeched, rage filling his eyes. "Grand Cross!" He called his attack, yet no energy shot forth from his hands.
"You thought you could bend me, the Warrior of Steel? You know nothing, boy! You have not an inkling of where you are,and you proclaim yourself the despot of the Digital World? This is my world, the spirit world. Corrupted souls like you have no power here."
"You would trap me in here to protect your precious freedom? While the Digital World goes to hell? Not that your meager powers could ever keep me here. You're a bigger idiot than I'd thought!" snarled Lucemon.
"I want peace as much as you do, yet I know infinitely more than you. I know what a ruler like you does to the spirits of the digimon you tyrannize. They would be a shell of their former selves- seeing my friends in this state was proof enough that I must stop you."
"Yet they deserve to be nothing more than shells!"
"Death would be a kinder fate than what you are about to inflict upon them. They would not be living creatures, but playthings for your pleasure. And I have seen enough of this world to know that there are some lives not worth living."
"You won't get out of this alive." Lucemon screamed at him. He had not known so much fury could be expressed on one face. In that instant, he was staring into the face of Hatred itself.
"I don't expect to. I have bought time for my friends, and that was all I needed." He replied with a grim finality. "You know nothing of peace. You know nothing of happiness, and certainly nothing of power, if you cannot even comprehend that compassion is the greatest force to exist in service of peace. You know nothing… of anything. My friends would bring peace to the world. Peace through compassion. We can show them they need not be enemies. Chaos can never be completely destroyed, but we might tame it if we tirelessly work for a brighter future."
Lucemon was still screaming something at him, but he could no longer make anything out.
"Spirit, digitize."
He whispered to himself. Lucemon lunged at him, but his form passed right through him. A translucent white aura surrounded the Warrior of Steel and he felt his body melting away. If there was one thing the Warrior of Steel did not know, it was whether it hurts to die. To his utter surprise, he felt no pain as data left his form in sparkling points of light, only peace. Then he saw his final vision. He saw Lucemon sealed away, restoring freedom to the world. He saw the seal weakening, and the angel once again unleashing his wrath upon the world. He saw six human children standing together against a demon dragon, wielding the spirit of the Ancients. He saw chaos once again burning through the world like wildfire. Then he saw himself reborn in the form of child, a child who was like him in more ways than one, who would, with the love and support of his friends, usher in an era of peace at last.
Today, I die to live.
His Spirit soared into the Digital World, putting steel in their hearts. They would live through this to fight another day.