[Last updated July 9, 2016]

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The Valley of Ruin

Ross was being pulled in all the directions he knew of and in several others that were unfamiliar. He couldn't see a thing, and it was very cold. Moments ago or hours ago he had been in the throes of rage, but now he felt only fear, cold, and pain. Then without warning he hit the hard ground with a thud. It was no longer completely dark, but everything was dim and swirled around before his eyes.

He couldn't think. He tried to stand up, but his bare foot slipped on a rock and he fell back down. There was nothing between his skin and the stones, and everything seemed to cut and freeze him. He was alone, and it felt like he was dying. The cut on his face had opened up again and his head ached terribly. He wanted to call for help, but all he could do was moan.

Eventually he heard noises around him, and then footsteps along with words that he couldn't make out. The words sounded unconcerned, and as everything went dark again Ross wondered if he would be left like this.

Ross opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, and above him there was a log ceiling. Hanging from the logs were what appeared to be mobiles made of whittled sticks and string. They almost looked like dreamcatchers, but there were no nets: any holes were left open. Ross didn't know what to make of them, but it occurred to him that if he could see them clearly then the nightmare was over. He was covered with a coarse blanket, and he felt something warm to his right. He could also hear a fire, and gradually his surroundings started to make sense again. After a minute of staring into space, he slowly sat up. It didn't hurt anymore, but he still felt weak.

"Welcome back," came a scratchy voice from someone he didn't see. He looked over to the fire, and sitting on the other side of it was a small stranger; smaller than a child. He was vaguely humanoid, but his thin limbs and thorax were covered in exoskeleton, and he had four wings on his back like an insect's. Resting on his lap was a small, ornate, black spear with a red ribbon tied at the base of its head.

Ross had trouble forming the words for a second, but asked, "…Where am I?"

The stranger made a rapid clicking noise in his throat. "You're in my house. Much cozier than a pile of rocks, isn't it?"

Everything was still a little fuzzy, and Ross wasn't sure what the stranger meant. It was cozy, though, which was strange. He had been naked before, but now something was covering him. He removed the blanket, and found he was wearing a set of clothes made out of a simple, gray fabric. They fit him perfectly. "Whose are these?" he asked.

"I had some friends of mine make them for you—wasn't any trouble. They were happy to help someone from the World of Creators. And after all, they had plenty of time to get them just right."

Something about that felt off, but Ross couldn't think clearly enough to tell what. He asked, "What do you mean by that?"

The stranger clicked again in a way that sounded like a laugh. "What I mean is that you've been asleep for two months. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up."

Ross was startled beyond words, and jumped up as if he had overslept for his day in court. He had to get back to the others as fast as he could. They could be hurt, dead, lost, or anything. What on earth was he doing here? He tried to run for the doorway, but his right leg wouldn't move properly and he fell flat.

"Are you sure you want to go looking for your friends now? We're four weeks by foot from where you saw them last. A little more rest would help first."

Ross almost swallowed his tongue. How far was that? Why was it that far?

What happened?

He sat back up and slapped himself on the cheek, but to no avail. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. If he could find out what it was, surely he'd wake up. Then it hit him. "Wait. How do you know that? And who told you about my friends?"

The stranger grinned. "I saw what was happening when you left them, of course. I was sitting in this very room when it did."

"What? How?"

"I see far. Very far, and in all directions at once."

The stranger's eyes were large for his head, and they were solid black. Ross couldn't tell where he was looking. With Angemon you could usually tell, somehow, but this was different.

Taking his spear in hand, the stranger rose to his feet. "An introduction is in order: I am WaruPiximon. It is a privilege to finally meet you, Ross."

Ross was speechless, and WaruPiximon continued. "I was impressed with how you helped take down the Commander. With your lack of training and the difference in strength, by rights you should have been dead."

"…Why were you watching us?"

WaruPiximon stoked the fire with his spear. "That's a simple question to answer. I put the Commander in charge of leading my army, so of course I'd keep an eye on how he was doing."

Ross's pupils dilated. He sprung to his feet and reached for his knife, but it wasn't there.

WaruPiximon laughed at him. "Relax, we're in a stable position. You are incapable of doing anything to me, and although I can kill you in more ways than you can count—" In a flash WaruPiximon was hovering in front of Ross and had the spear pointed at his heart. The iron tip had caught a bit of flame from the fire that danced around as if by magic. "—I have no desire to. Isn't it nice that we're both safe?"

WaruPiximon flitted back down to the dirt floor. The tiny flame jumped from his spear and returned to the fire. "Come take a walk with me. Your legs need rehabilitating."

Ross's heartrate was still spiked. He could think of a million reasons why he had to run away as far as he could, but it was obvious that he'd have no shot at doing that. This was one Virus that he couldn't hide from if it was true how far he could see, and he was not about to put that claim to the test.

WaruPiximon flicked his spear in the direction of the fire, and it extinguished itself on command. "Come along, now." He walked out the open doorway and into the early evening light.

Ross swallowed. If he had no realistic chance at escape at the moment, he would cooperate until he did. He bent over to fit through the entrance and followed after WaruPiximon. As he emerged from the small house, what he saw stole the breath right out of his lungs.

The crater was larger than Ross could have imagined. They were standing on a forty-five degree incline which dropped for hundreds of feet before levelling out and rising again. Ross could barely spot the other side, which looked like it was a mile away. All in between was rock, ash, and soot. From the build of the Virus's cabin, Ross could have sworn that they were in a forest. Indeed when he turned around he saw that there was no log cabin, but rather a boulder that had been carved hollow. He kept turning, and saw that he and WaruPiximon were the only things made of organic matter as far the eye could see.

"We call it the Valley of Ruin," said WaruPiximon. "You came to our world in its waning years: a world of weakness and impotence. This place is one of the few reminders of the incomparable strength of our ancestors. You are standing in the impact basin of a single attack.

Ross could only gawk. He knew that destruction of this scale could only come from a meteor or an object just as big moving just as fast. It was inconceivable that such raw power could come from a living thing. But it wouldn't make sense for this to be the result of a meteor, and after wracking his brain for a minute he figured out why. It was perfect destruction without erosion, so the event must have been relatively recent. If that were the case, though, there would have been mass extinction, an ice age, or at least some sign of the event back at Angemon's camp. The state of the crater proved it was recent, but the rest of the world proved it was ancient.

This left one explanation: magic, or what was effectively magic. It was some impossible force that left the rest of the world undamaged, or prevented this place from healing, or did both for all Ross knew. He understood that what WaruPiximon said was correct, and he was crushed with fear and awe at the thought of the monster that could have done such a thing.

In the face of such horror, he almost forgot to ask about the banal impossibility of WaruPiximon's house.

"Oh, that? A lark of an illusion—looks and feels like wood, is actually rock. This place was a forest before it was rubble, so it seemed appropriate, and obviously more comfortable. Don't worry, I swear that your clothes are real at least. Anyway, let's move. I came out for a walk."

With that, WaruPiximon started making his way down towards the heart of the valley. Ross could think of no other option but to follow him. He was starting to get his legs back, but the terrain was difficult to manage regardless. Small rocks would shift under his feet, and keeping balanced was a chore.

"You think I'm your enemy," said WaruPiximon, "And that's understandable. All you know of me is what you've seen of the Commander's army, and the members of that army are stupid and evil at best and cunning and evil at worst. If you hate me because I know this and still use them, then I can't argue."

Ross denied none of it. If he had the ability he would have attacked his host right on the spot just for his association with the Commander.

WaruPiximon continued. "My defense is that none of the means will ultimately matter. If a few thousand live today, it is cheap consolation for the hundreds of thousands in the future that will endure oppression for it. I believe that results come first and that killing is killing, regardless of method. I use the Commander because he does what I require, even if I'd prefer he didn't torture his prey."

This crossed the line as far as Ross was concerned. "Rationalize all you want. You'll never convince me the world's better off with the Commander still alive."

WaruPiximon didn't reply. They kept walking downhill in silence. Gradually the slope flattened out, and they came upon the very lowest point of the valley. To Ross's left and right the destruction stretched for miles. The basin was even longer than it was wide.

Finally, WaruPiximon spoke again, as if they had never stopped talking. "Given what I know now, I have to agree. I don't think the Commander should stay alive either, not anymore."

Ross's stomach hurt with anxiety. He had been asleep for two months, and something must have happened to his friends while he was out. From what WaruPiximon had said, the Commander was alive, and this could mean disaster.

WaruPiximon looked up at Ross. "You may want to hear this sitting down."

Ross's fingers shook as he complied. They were now at eye-level. WaruPiximon frowned and spoke in a regretful tone. "Angemon could not contain the Commander. He rejoined our army, and our advantage in numbers only grew from there. Just as you'd guess, he succeeded in invading and capturing the Forbidden City. That was according to plan, but he has refused to raze the city per my instructions, and has instead turned it into his own stronghold. What was once the impenetrable fortress of our oldest enemy is now the impenetrable fortress of a traitor. Our forces there are now loyal only to him, and—"

Ross was ready to burst. "But what did he do to my—"

"Your friends are dead. He killed them himself."

Ross nearly vomited and his vision blurred. He stood up and tried pacing, but to no avail. When he could contain it no longer, he screamed so hard that it felt his throat would be permanently torn. Without thinking, he grabbed a rock and wound up. "This is your fault, you little monster!"

He threw the rock at WaruPiximon's head, but it never reached its target. The Virus merely pointed his spear and the stone burst into a cloud of dust that hung in midair. "Be warned. This is the fate of any weak thing that dares challenge a Perfect-level."

WaruPiximon then waved his spear and the dust flew directly into Ross's face. He managed to close his eyes in time, but some of it still ended up in his throat. It stung, and it took a minute of coughing for him to clear it out and breathe normally. By the time he was done he was no longer enraged, and the reality of it all started to sink in. It wasn't supposed to go this way. He had promised not to be the last one standing.

Joanie had probably kept her part of the promise until she died. Ross had never wanted to say goodbye to her, but that was because they were supposed to stay alive until it was too late to say goodbye. He had failed, and she had not. He was crushed with longing and regret like he had never known, and he cried uncontrollably.

At length he uttered just one word: "Why?"

WaruPiximon was unsympathetic. "Why what?"

Ross nearly tore his hair out. "Why wasn't it me!"

"It was because you took the Black Sword."

It took Ross two minutes, but he eventually composed himself. He struggled to get away from these terrible feelings, and at least for the moment he managed to be simply empty. He tried to remember the night before, when he had totally lost control. He knew he had at least wounded the Commander, but after that everything went dark and he entered the waking nightmare. He didn't understand what exactly had happened. "Explain."

"The Black Sword is a gift from the High Council of Virus to our Human savior, whom we named the Commander—"

"What was his real name?" some of the anger began to creep back into Ross's voice.

"—He never told me, and I never asked. As I was about to say, the Black Sword is no mere piece of metal. It is nearly alive, and if it brought you here then it wanted you to see me. It is regretful that it decided to do so when it was inconvenient for you."

The regret swept back over Ross. If he had only gone back to sleep like Joanie said, he wouldn't have lost everything. Again, Joanie. He couldn't handle this pain, and his thoughts always went back to Joanie, Joanie.

WaruPiximon was saying something, but Ross wasn't listening until he heard this. "…have a common enemy, now. He can still be destroyed, and all we have to do is work together."

Ross had had enough. He wanted nothing to do with anyone who had ever sided with that scum. He turned away from WaruPiximon and began to walk. "Why should I bother with someone who makes me as sick as you do?"

"There's a good reason, and you're looking at it."

Ross stopped. There was nothing to see here. Nothing that is, unless WaruPiximon meant the Valley of Ruin itself. Something cold went up Ross's spine as he started to put it together.

"You must have guessed why we would put all our trust in one as frail as the Commander. He can inspire evolution in those who were decades, maybe a century away from achieving it on their own. He can already bestow the Perfect level, and with his talent he will surely grasp the Ultimate level as well."

Ultimate. Ultimate meaning 'the last.' Not merely 'Perfect,' which meant without flaw, but superfluous to the point where nothing could withstand it. Ross looked all around, and he knew that to be Ultimate-level meant having the power to flatten mountains on a whim. If the sight of MetalTyrannomon had been terrifying, there were no adequate words for what the Commander might unleash if he were not stopped.

Ross turned to face WaruPiximon again. The Perfect-level was almost in a good mood. "The divine power of the World beyond the Sky is with every Human. The Commander was my great student, but if you have the discipline you can surpass him. I do not ask for your loyalty, nor for anything other than victory. I will give you all the help I gave him, and in return you have only to use your power once and destroy the Commander and the City."

For Ross, the thought of the Commander still breathing, much less continuing to destroy every good thing, was intolerable. He could do it. He could become stronger than his enemy. He could erase this awful stain from the world, and then he would be at peace.

"I guess I've got nothing to lose," said Ross.

WaruPiximon just smiled.

It was the next morning. Ross followed WaruPiximon up the steep non-path from the fake cabin to the top of the Valley of Ruin. The landscape above the Valley had growing things, but it was little less dreary. They walked another mile, and gradually the thorny bushes became trees. They were evergreen, mostly similar to pine, but Ross could swear they were crossed with something else though he had no idea what. Before long they were deep in a pale forest. Ross had never seen an ostensibly green place so devoid of color. It's not that everything was white, far from it. It was sickly. Things were alive here, but they were not thriving.

WaruPiximon stopped walking, and it was very quiet. Then the Virus said to nobody Ross could see, "Come out."

Ross had not noticed them, but when he did his blood began to boil a little. Out from behind many of the trees came Gazimon. They weren't quite the same as the ones he had grown used to, though. These had thicker fur, and their claws were a bit duller but looked stronger. Intuitively it made sense to him. The ones from before were built for running fast across the plains and tearing enemies to shreds, while these were built for climbing trees and handling the elements. He understood them a little better at that moment, but he didn't hate them any less and he wished strongly that he had his knife on him, or that his spear hadn't been destroyed for that matter.

"Why are these things here?" he asked, not hiding his disdain.

The Gazimon didn't seem to take offense. In fact, they had expressions that Ross had never expected to see from the likes of them. He just now noticed, but they didn't seem to want to kill him. They were simply amazed.

"This is a Human!" WaruPiximon told his underlings. "He has descended from beyond the clouds, from the World of Creators to bring us victory! From this day forward, your lives are his. If you serve without fear, without doubt, without the slightest hesitation he will reward you for it beyond your imaginations. Know that your reward is not pleasure, but greatness. If you have no stomach for greatness you may leave now without pain of death, but not later."

No Gazimon budged. Their eyes showed they were fully prepared.

WaruPiximon turned to Ross. "These are your first soldiers. They will obey you absolutely, but I would not advise giving them any orders yet. They have a more immediate use, and giving them orders could be counterproductive."

Ross was apprehensive. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me, what do you think is your first obstacle to the power to bestow evolution?"

Ross thought for a second, and realized that he had known the answer for some time. "Weakness."

"I concur. Though I do not know how to provoke evolution—otherwise I would do it myself—I would be astounded if one as weak as you could attain this power. Therefore, our first step will be to destroy your weakness."

Ross swallowed, and nodded in agreement.

"And that is why you should not use words to change the actions of your soldiers yet. Understand? Good."

Ross did not quite understand, but then WaruPiximon flew up to a high tree branch. Something changed in the air in a way Ross had felt before, and he nearly went into a helpless panic.

"You have ten seconds before I offer my help in eliminating your weakness," said WaruPiximon. "I would start running before then."

For the first two seconds, Ross was frozen. He understood very keenly that he was dead if he did nothing, so desperately he convinced his legs to move. He ran as fast as he could, but in the woods like this he knew it wasn't nearly fast enough. The tenth second passed, and Ross heard terrible, familiar noises. The Gazimon were chasing him, and they were fast. Ross in contrast was slow, and worse yet he was unarmed. He heard them getting closer and closer, and before he knew it he was distracted and almost ran into a tree.

He had to stop, and then he looked behind him. The Gazimon were darting between the trees and they all had the red eyes. The closest one was almost caught up. The monster jumped for Ross's neck, and it was all he could do to dive out of the way. The Gazimon landed, corrected itself, and in an instant it was ready to pounce again. The others would do the same in a moment. Ross was a dead man.

Then Ross heard the sound of fingers snapping, and the Gazimon's red eyes turned back to normal in an instant. Every trace of malice was gone from the creature in front of Ross, and it sat on all fours at attention. It seemed apologetic for having chased him, even though its intent to kill had been obviously real.

WaruPiximon floated down in front of Ross. "I'm not impressed."

Ross would have kicked him if he could. "What do you expect? All I've got is my two hands, see? No claws. If I had a spear I'd be able to put up a fight, but I'd still be dead because you sicced a whole pack of Gazimon on me, you nutcase!"

WaruPiximon shook his head. He took his own spear and tossed it in the air, then with another snap of his fingers it exploded into a fine dust, just as the rock had the other day. "Do you think the Commander was strong because he had a weapon? Weapons are not strength; they are the illusion of strength. For our purposes they are worth little more than their raw materials."

To prove his point, WaruPiximon held out his hand, and the iron dust coalesced from the air and the ground to form his spear again. It was brand new, as if it had never been scratched. "These things can be made on a whim and unmade again by a stiff breeze. They are cheap help, and your final destination must be reached without help. I'm being too kind just by telling you this. If you use weapons or even my instruction as a crutch, you will never inspire evolution."

Ross was still angry, and even if WaruPiximon had a point he was missing the main point. "You're right, but I won't reach the destination if I'm dead, either. I don't have the Commander's knack for survival, so if I'm going to take on a dozen red-eyed Virus-types at once I'd rather already be strong."

WaruPiximon frowned, but said "Very well. Since you're harder to replace than a sword or spear, we'll have it your way. I still suggest that your first step involve running, but I won't require you to face a Virus armed with the Gift—yet. Try first to see if you can run as far as they can.

"Did you hear that?" called WaruPiximon to the Gazimon. "Your new master is better suited to start with a light jog! He cannot make any of you greater as he is, so improve him, and earn his gratitude!"

The Gazimon howled with approval, and started to run off on a trail that was visible only to them.

"Catch up with them or I'll skin you alive," WaruPiximon added to Ross almost under his breath and with a hint of honest venom.

Ross wasn't afraid of the threat of punishment anymore. It was now plain to see that WaruPiximon was averse to the risk of having him killed, much less killing him himself. The only thing Ross feared now was failure: that he wouldn't be able to do the impossible things that the Commander could. He knew he would have to start small, and he agreed that being able to at least catch up with the Gazimon was critical. So he took off, and ran as fast as he could while still being careful to avoid trees. He was driven, but by purpose, not by terror.

It was easier said than done. For what felt like forever it was all Ross could do to keep the Gazimon in his sight. The underbrush tried to trip him, and the needles of the trees scratched up his face, but he could ignore it. 'Catch them,' he thought. 'Catch them or the Commander wins.' His lungs were on fire, but he wouldn't allow himself to slow down. Then at one point the Gazimon were going downhill, and Ross knew that he had to change how he ran to keep up. Instead of sticking a leg out to stop his momentum from getting out of control, he took bounds and let gravity help him all it could. For half of the way down it seemed to be working, but then a tree came up fast that he wasn't ready for. He barely avoided it, but sent himself spinning in the process. Then his forehead met a branch.

It was a sharp, splitting pain. When it dulled down it was only because everything was hazy. He was on the ground but the world wouldn't stay still. He didn't remember much of what followed, but he heard several Gazimon laughing, and one Gazimon who sounded worried.

It was late in the evening following Ross's short-lived adventure through the woods. He was sitting by a campfire with the Gazimon, waiting for the throb in his forehead to go away. WaruPiximon had gone off somewhere, and by now Ross was so used to sleeping outdoors that he didn't care to go back to the illusionary cabin. Besides that, it was pleasantly novel to be around Gazimon who didn't want to kill him, although he couldn't help the contempt he still helf for their nasty, stupid way of speaking.

"…trick is to bite 'em in the neck and let 'em bleed'mselfs dead." The Gazimon talked with his mouth full as he chewed on a wild mushroom. "Take longer to fade out that way, and that's how you get in some eatin'."

Ross couldn't believe they were having this conversation, but as long as they didn't expect him to contribute much he could tolerate it. One of them offered Ross a mushroom, but he shook his head. He didn't feel like having anything while they talked about what was close enough to cannibalism.

"How does they hunt in the Creatin' World, Human sir? Is it good huntin'?"

The truth was that Ross had never done much hunting. Where he had grown up all the boys went with their dads at least once or twice even if they hated it, and Ross had hated it. Even though it was nice being outdoors, and killing an animal had only barely bothered him the first time, he had always found the company intolerable.

"We use tools. Sometimes a bow and arrow but usually a gun. Long stick that shoots metal. There's lots to kill, and they never talk back."

The Gazimon found this fascinating, and they discussed it at length among themselves. They were divided as to whether it sounded fun because of the tools or less fun because none of the prey could ever beg for mercy.

"Course," said one of the Gazimon, "There's also game here that don't talk up north. Saw a Gazimon that wouldn't talk one time. We had to gut it on the spot we was so embarrassed."

Ross remembered what Biyomon had said about the feral ones that lived in the woods. Then he remembered Biyomon, who was probably dead too. The only friends he had left were these psychopaths and another psychopath they all answered to.

"What'd you say you was called again?"

"…Ross."

"No, the other what you was called."

"A human. You know, from the 'mighty race of Creators.'"

"Yeah, yeah, Creator. What's a Creator?"

Ross found this curious. The way most of the other 'mons had talked, Ross had gotten the impression they had a ubiquitous, cross-cultural creation myth focused on a polytheistic origin world. He supposed that there were 'mons who were so isolated and uncultured that they had missed it. He also wondered if this had something to do with the nearby Valley of Ruin. There was a terrible vibe about the place, and if Ross were at all spiritually inclined he would have said it didn't feel like a place for anything with a heart. Since Ross was not spiritually inclined, to him this idea manifested itself merely as a bad feeling.

"No one where I'm from agrees on what a Creator is or any of that. If you ask me we shouldn't even call it the World of Creators."

"That's what WaruPiximon calls it. He says the Creators came down from the sky to make us strong, and gave us the Data for huntin'."

"Well, there's your answer. The Creators made the Virus; what more do you want to know?"

"Just what is them? We thought they was Virus, but you ain't Virus and you ain't nothin' else neither."

No attributes, Ross remembered, but he didn't care if they understood or not. Moreover he was tired of talking. "Life's a mystery. Just forget about it."

It was plain to see the Gazimon weren't satisfied, but at Ross's suggestion they dropped the matter. They continued talking of blood and guts, while he ignored them and pondered a little about their talk of the sky. Angemon had never described the human world in terms of the sky, but WaruPiximon had. He thought about the sky—what it meant to these monsters and what it meant to humans. The parallels were obvious: many religions described the world of the gods in terms of the heavens, 'Heaven' itself being the most prominent contemporary example. When he heard the Gazimon say it, though, it didn't sound like metaphor. He figured it was because they were naïve and ignorant, but in the back of his mind it stuck out as important.

By the time it was the next day, it felt like he had not broken his chain of thought. He was still thinking about the Gazimon, anyway, as he tried in vain to catch up to them in their second go at running. They knew the ground too well, they were too fast, and they never grew tired. It was maddening, and he knew the only way to rid himself of the madness would be to catch them. When it felt like his legs would give out, he willed himself to run faster. Things happened in this sequence every day for over a week, and each day before his body gave out he made a mistake and crashed into something.

Before he knew it, he was covered from head to toe in cuts and bruises. None of them compared in severity to the long scar on his face that would likely never heal, but all together they stung so badly that he could no longer stand to talk in the evenings. If the Gazimon ever asked him anything, he would just sit there and not so much as look at them. Eventually they stopped asking, and over time they talked less and less until they spent most of their free time regarding Ross in silence. Ross didn't know how he had managed to get them to shut up, but he knew that if they actually respected him they were fools. He was so weak and pathetic it was disgusting.

One day it all came to a head. He was falling behind as usual, and then it started to drizzle. Ross hated failure, and he hated failure while being wet even more. As if to spite him, the drizzle turned into a shower and then into a proper storm. It had been hard enough to see and dodge all the trees when there was no weather, but now it was nearly impossible. On top of that the wind was picking up and driving the downpour into his face. Each drop felt like a dart on his already sore skin. It was too much. He roared and lost track of everything.

But this time he didn't collapse. He didn't know what happened, but soon one of the Gazimon was right in front of him. The stupid creature was too slow, Ross realized. He had killed these things before. They were nothing. What had he been so afraid of when WaruPiximon set them off on him? When he was just close enough, Ross dove and tackled the monster. They both slid in the mud and got cut by the rocks and roots.

Ross came to his knees, and the Gazimon looked timid as it backed off several paces. This offended Ross. He shouted, "Coward!" The Gazimon's face was then filled with savage glee as he charged his master. Ross grabbed his opponent's wrists before the claws could cut him, and then he wrestled him to the ground. The Gazimon's back claws scratched at his side, but not deep enough to deter him. After a terrible struggle, Ross had the creature pinned to a tree. He pressed on the monster's neck with his forearm, and held it there with all the weight of his body. The Gazimon was gasping for air when Ross heard something that jarred the fight out of him for a moment.

They were cheering. The other Gazimon had encircled them and were chanting, "Hu-man! Hu-man!"

Ross pulled back. The Gazimon slumped to the ground, and the Virus smiled even as he coughed. It felt like Ross's head was swimming with chemicals, but he didn't know what to do with them now. His chest heaved as he caught his breath, and soon a figure he had almost forgotten floated down from the treetops. "It took you long enough, but well done for taking the first step."

Ross glared at WaruPiximon and spat on the ground. "I thought you were supposed to skin me alive a few weeks ago."

"I made a few allowances for accidents and recovery time therefrom. If you had ever stopped of your own will instead of your own incompetence, you can be sure I would have shown no mercy. After all, it cost a very precious sword to bring you here, so I can't afford to kill you unless you prove to be a hopeless failure."

Ross hated WaruPiximon's attitude. He hated anyone who was so comfortable in their own perceived superiority. Nonetheless, he had to take advantage of this bastard's help to have any chance of killing the enemy. "So what's next?"

"Next I think is dinner. Are you hungry yet?"

'What kind of question is that?' thought Ross. 'Of course…I'm…' A powerful nausea struck Ross and he put his hand to his gut. Something was wrong. Something didn't feel like it was supposed to, and the discrepancy was making him sick. Slowly he realized what it was. "I haven't eaten since I got here."

He thought back frantically: had he eaten at all since he left his old world? Yes, of course he had, he had helped prepare dinner with Joanie many times and they had all eaten together. Then when had he stopped eating? When he narrowed it down it terrified him: the last time he had eaten was early in the morning the day they ambushed the Commander. That was months ago, and he just spent weeks running, yet somehow he wasn't starving. The only way in which he felt hungry was how he felt he was supposed to feel hungry, and it didn't make sense even to him. "What's…wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you, at least not in that sense," said WaruPiximon. "I'd say there is less wrong with you now than ever before. Those who are filled with divine purpose need no other sustenance."

Ross couldn't believe it. "That's absurd…It's just impossible."

"Then why have you not starved to death?"

"It's true!" called out one of the Gazimon. "You just went and went without no food and still fought like a real Virus!"

"Make us great like you, Human!"

Ross stood in the rain with a blank expression for a minute. He was coming to grips with impossible facts. He would never say 'divine purpose' and mean it, but now he knew for certain what he had strongly suspected but didn't want to admit: the old rules did not apply to humans in this place. This was why the Commander could jump twenty feet in the air and catch lightning in his bare hands. This was why both the Commander and Jacob could swing a sword at speeds that should have torn their arms out of their sockets. That they could do these things had scared him before, but now he was convinced that he could do the same and more.

Ross felt the water on his skin, and for the first time he welcomed it. It made perfect sense to him now. The Commander controlled the Virus and made them evolve by controlling the rain, wind, and lightning. In his mystical ramblings WaruPiximon had touched on the truth: that victory for the Virus came from the sky. The sky was power, and so the path was clear. He just had to become strong enough to bend that power to his will. Then he would create a monster that could turn his enemy into dust.

"WaruPiximon, can you control the weather?"

"It's not exactly easy, but I can, yes."

"Then keep this storm alive."

WaruPiximon grinned and showed his small fangs. "It would be my pleasure."

For the next month, Ross did pushups. He did nothing besides pushups. He did not eat, sleep, drink, or speak. He stayed in the middle of the Valley of Ruin and did pushups. All around him it rained constantly, but the land was not affected. In the stones beneath his hands Ross felt a malice that had not waned in over a thousand years. Just as the valley would not suffer erosion, he would not allow himself to suffer fatigue while the Commander still lived.

When he was satisfied in the new strength in his arms, he stood up. His breathing was regular, and the toll of thirty days was nothing to him. He would not think about it. He would think only of progress.

Next he ran. It was not like before, when he was trying to catch something. The only rule he set for himself was that he would not slow down. He ran up and down the valley without any thought of when he would be finished. When he felt that he was not running as fast as he could, he sped up. After two months he was in a seemingly perpetual sprint. There was no day and no night, just times when he could see and times when he couldn't. His feet never landed on a rock the wrong way despite the downpour—no, because of the downpour. The sky gave him mastery over the Virus and over himself. It would not let him trip. For now it helped him, and soon it would serve him.

When he had gone two weeks without getting any faster, he skidded to a halt. For the second time in over two months he was standing still. He checked his pulse, and it was normal. He felt his face, and some of the cuts and bruises had healed. The clothes he had received from WaruPiximon were drenched, but undamaged. In a fit of self-indulgence, he took a deep breath and let some of the tension out of his body.

Soon he had company. His band of Gazimon spent most of their time watching him from a distance, and only now did they dare approach again. They surrounded him in a circle, which normally would mean they were hunting an enemy, but the way they did so now made it seem like reverent ceremony. If the miserable fools wanted to treat Ross like a god, he wasn't going to stop them.

A minute later they were joined by WaruPiximon. The Perfect-level regarded Ross with approval. "Are you ready to continue from where we left off?"

In other words, WaruPiximon was ready to start condescending to Ross's frailty a little less. Ross knew he was ready for it, and answered without emotion. "Yes."

WaruPiximon waved his spear, and in short order the rain thinned out. "We'll leave the Gift of the Virus out of the picture for now. I know how you hate to dive into the deep end."

Ross scowled at the suggestion, but didn't entirely disagree. He addressed his troops. "Tear me to pieces."

The Gazimon rejoiced, but in a way that was specific to their species. Three of them decided to go first, and dashed toward Ross with true intent to kill. Anything less would be blasphemy. One sprung for Ross's neck while the others tried to sweep away his legs, but they were slow. Ross had never seen the Gazimon move so slow, and it made him furious. Without thinking about it too hard, he evaded two of them and clocked the other in midair over the head. That one hit the ground and did not get up. The other two tried attacking him again, but all he had to do was move out of the way. It was absurd that they couldn't touch him when he was no more skilled in fighting than any typical high schooler. They were just too slow.

It was insulting. Ross knew that these things were capable of far more. He had told them to tear him to pieces, but they were just messing around. As he dodged another set of pitiful attacks, he felt something around his arms. It was the breeze. As he grew angrier the wind found him. At that moment he felt the sky was ready to listen a little, and he muttered, "Red eyes, red eyes…"

A gust picked up and wove its way between him and the Gazimon. He could feel himself in the air. Some part of him was outside his body and all around. The sky belonged to him now. "Red eyes!"

The wind howled, and the Gazimon froze. They twitched for a moment, and then their eyes turned bright red. They all ran for Ross at once. Immediately Ross found himself in trouble. They weren't much faster, but there were so many. He couldn't keep his feet still for even a moment, and whenever he hit or kicked back it gave one of them enough time to cut him. The wounds were nothing, and only made him more determined. He managed to stay on his feet for several minutes, until finally he tripped. A Gazimon got on top of him, and he just barely grabbed the monster's front legs before they could rip his face off. Once again, he was a dead man.

And then all the Gazimon stopped. Their eyes returned to normal, and they backed away from Ross.

"Much, much better," said WaruPiximon. "I didn't expect you would last half that long."

Ross came to his feet and winced from his new cuts. The Gazimon were built to inflict pain, and no matter how much control Ross had over his body he was still vulnerable to external injury. Perhaps with the protection of the rain he might have sustained less damage, but Ross had too much respect for the power of the Virus to believe that he could become impervious to their attacks.

As for the Gazimon, all of them were sitting at attention and trying to catch their breath, except one. This one was still lying on the ground, and had been unconscious when Ross provoked the others to go all out. Ross walked over to him and put his fingers on the creature's throat. He wasn't dead. Ross would never admit that he was glad the thing was alive, but in truth he was. Out of all the pack, this one alone had gone directly for his vitals when ordered. He was without question obedient, ruthless, and fearless. He was the ideal Gazimon, and mixed in with Ross's loathing for him was some appreciation.

Ross grabbed a tuft of this Gazimon's back fur and yanked it clean out. In the months that followed, Ross kept his eye out for that bald patch. When he had his daily sparring sessions with his small army, he made sure to deal the harshest blows to the one he had marked. It was unpleasant to see him take such punishment, but Ross had to see if there was a limit to what he would endure. If there was such a limit, Ross never found it. This Gazimon more than any of the others was ferocious in attack and reverent in defeat.

And so, Ross picked this one.

One day, after much time had passed, Ross stood off against a new opponent that WaruPiximon had provided. It was DarkLizamon: Adult-level, Virus-type. It was a bipedal reptile that stood taller than a man and was covered in scorching black flames. The only place where it wasn't protected by fire was its face, where it was protected by a steel visor. Therefore Ross couldn't touch it by himself, but he wouldn't need to.

Watching from a safe distance were all of the Gazimon except the one that had been chosen. This one stood at the ready in front of Ross, and he was clearly eager to achieve the greatness that he had been promised.

Ross stuck out his hand, and summoned every ounce of rage he could muster. He thought of all the misery he had been subjected to by this place, the Virus, and above all the Commander. He let DarkLizamon stand in for all of them. In response, the dark clouds above began to break. The Valley of Ruin once again saw a rainstorm, and as the wind reached a crescendo the DarkLizamon took a step back in apprehension. Ross's hand twitched with the power he was taking from the sky, and he knew he was ready. "Gazimon, I order you: evolve now and kill the enemy!"

Before the eyes of the stunned witnesses, the chosen Gazimon was bathed in a pale glow. In a matter of seconds he was as tall as Ross even though he was on all fours, and his body was wreathed in red flames that were just as overpowering as DarkLizamon's. His mouth opened to reveal a set of fangs that put the Gazimons' sharp but small teeth to shame. As soon as he stopped glowing, he lunged at DarkLizamon with blinding speed.

DarkLizamon was caught totally off balance, and the battle proved to be an anticlimax. He barely managed to scratch the new Adult-level before those fangs sunk into his neck and tore it open. It was already over.

Ross's chosen one paid no more mind to the carcass. He approached Ross slowly and said, "Lynxmon at your disposal, sir."

All around the Gazimon erupted in celebration. Just as pleased but more composed was WaruPiximon, who flew over to say some words of approval to Ross which fell on deaf ears.

Ross found no satisfaction in this development. It was all a means to an end.

Ross was asleep. He had lost track of time one month, and found that he couldn't move the muscles in his right leg. It served as a good reminder that he wasn't invincible, so he took a three-day nap to recover. After having spent so much time wide awake, he was unused to sleep, and couldn't be sure that he was doing it right. Then he felt the proportions of his own body change drastically, and he knew that he must be dreaming, so that was a good start.

Ross's arms and legs were twice as long as they should have been, and they were covered in thick hair. He felt around his face. The scrapes and cuts from his training were gone, but his long scar was still there. His teeth were now long and sharp, and when he pulled his hand back it was covered in someone else's blood. Ross didn't know how to feel about this. It didn't bother him, but it brought him no pleasure either. He supposed it was regrettable.

Then his long ears heard a faint sound. He looked in the direction of the noise and saw a small child. It wasn't one of the ones he had been watching and now knew to be dead. For that matter, he couldn't be sure if it was a boy or a girl. It gave no visible clues in its dress or hair as to its sex. He was about to ask for its name, but he stopped himself. Something was wrong.

The child looked into Ross's eyes. Its own eyes were soft and sad, and they were surrounded by a thin but pure glow. Those eyes made Ross uneasy, and slowly they began to hurt him. They did not hurt him not metaphorically: his own eyes were burning at the sight of them. He wanted to look away, but something held his gaze in place. He wanted to tear the child's face off with his claws, but his arms wouldn't move either.

He had to do something to make the child leave, so he roared at it, hoping it would be scared. The air burst from his lungs with the force of a typhoon, for he was filled with the wind itself. The child's hair was blown back, but its feet remained firmly planted. The light in its eyes grew brighter, and it felt like someone had stuck hot pins into Ross's pupils. So Ross roared louder and louder, and the wind grew stronger and stronger. Soon they were surrounded by a cyclone that would have ripped a house from its foundation.

But the child did not move. Its pitiful gaze never strayed, and it tormented Ross more than he could stand. Eventually everything went mercifully black, and he heard WaruPiximon's voice. "Wake up. You shouldn't be seeing this."

Ross bolted awake, and looked around for WaruPiximon, but he was nowhere to be seen. The Valley was deserted, just as it had been when he laid himself down. When Ross saw that he was alone he calmed down again, but when he did he realized that his eyes still stung. He groaned as he rubbed them, and soon the pain went away. He didn't forget the dream, though, and he didn't forget the sound of WaruPiximon's voice at the end of it. It was somewhere between angry and embarrassed. Ross had never heard WaruPiximon sound remotely embarrassed, so he didn't know where that element of his dream could have come from.

He had other things to concern himself with, though. He was almost ready.

Ross stepped onto a stone platform which was one hundred yards in diameter and ringed with tall, worn obelisks. The sky was black with thunderclouds. He had been assembling them over the course of several hours. In the center of the platform a dark dragon was chained to the floor. The dragon's name was Devidramon, and it was an Adult Virus. It had arms like a human's—if a human's arms could be as thick as barrels—and its four eyes were solid red in their natural state. Like Unimon and the DarkTyrannomon, it never spoke. It didn't need words though to make it clear that it wanted to be anywhere but in the middle of the circle.

Ross didn't like the idea of forcing a 'mon to evolve against its will, but he had consulted with WaruPiximon, and this one had far better potential than the Gazimon he had picked out months ago. He was now Gazimon again instead of Lynxmon, as any evolution Ross gifted would have to be temporary. Ross had lost track of the creature since then, and he didn't expect to see him again. In any case, all Ross needed was a Virus that would stay in the same spot, whether by cooperation or coercion.

All around them beyond the platform were figures that were hidden in shadow. Ross didn't know their names, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that they didn't get in his way. He would let WaruPiximon deal with them.

One of them spoke. "None have stepped foot here except the Virus until you, Human. The Council will deal with you appropriately depending on your success or failure."

"Don't mind my colleagues, Ross," said WaruPiximon, who sat among them. "Focus only on what is already within you."

He didn't need to tell Ross that. Ross took another look at Devidramon before closing his eyes. He then raised his arms to the heavens, and thought of the Commander. He thought of the deep scars on his arm, chest, and face that would never heal, and how he would be able to tolerate their presence if only his enemy were wiped off the face of the planet. These thoughts spread from his brain to his heart to his fingertips and finally into the air.

Soon he felt drops hitting his clothing. They were joined by a breeze that swirled around him. This much was routine at this point—the sky obeyed him without question. As sure as clockwork, the cloudburst grew into a storm and then into a hurricane. There was a charge all around him, and then he knew he was ready for uncharted territory. Even with his lids shut the flash of lightning hurt his eyes, and it hurt his right hand even more as it made impact. It was just physical pain though. The fact that he took it and didn't collapse meant he was strong, not weak. He was ready for this pain, just as his loathsome enemy had been.

But Ross would surpass the enemy. Mere seconds later another bolt struck his left hand with a deafening crack. It attacked every nerve in his arm, and he nearly lost his poise. The next one came even faster, and the one after faster still. Despite all he did to keep the lighting's power confined to his hands, it felt like someone had wired a battery to the inside of his mouth. As for his fingers, they were writhing in agony beyond his control. The barrage grew relentless, and finally Ross felt he was in danger. His heart skipped beats and would have stopped permanently if another bolt hadn't started it again. He was on his knees, and soon he would lose consciousness.

With the last ounce of concentration he had, he lowered his arms and aimed them to where he knew Devidramon was. Then everything passed out from his hands to his target. All the force of the rain, the wind, the lightning, and his own wrath left his body. He slumped to the ground as the last lightning bolt struck his head. He lost consciousness without realizing it.

When he came to, WaruPiximon was standing beside him. The storm had died down, but the clouds remained. It took a great effort to get his eyes to open fully and then to focus. To his dismay though, there was no colossal monster in their midst. In the center of the circle was something that looked vaguely like Devidramon and was somewhat larger, but it was lying prostrate with its eyes closed and its jaw hanging slack. It was surrounded by what looked like a mass of pure energy, and intermittently some of that energy jumped to its body like static electricity.

"Why…" mouthed Ross. "Why…wasn't it…enough…"

WaruPiximon laughed at him. "You must be joking! This is more than we could have hoped for! You've done it!"

Ross looked again, but saw nothing that changed his mind. Devidramon's once leathery wings were growing stubby feathers and had partially fused with its arms. Any changes it had undergone indicated only that this was a half-baked, worthless evolution. Ross covered his face and groaned.

WaruPiximon continued. "It baffles me that you understand the Virus so much as to inspire evolution, but so little that you can't grasp what's happening here. Can't you sense it? This Devidramon is evolving straight to the Ultimate level! There is enough energy there and the source is stable! We have only to wait!"

One more time, Ross looked at the suffering beast. The mass of energy was indeed stable. It seemed plausible that the only problem was that Devidramon's frame couldn't handle the influx all at once. It bothered Ross that all of his control over this process was flimsy at best, and that so much of it was at the mercy of seemingly arbitrary forces. He couldn't stop looking for things to be mad about.

"By my estimate," said WaruPiximon, "It should be less than a half a year until its evolution is complete."

"That long?"

"That short! You forget we have awaited this day for over a thousand years! This will overwhelm the Forbidden City's defenses. At long last it will be gone forever. You have brought us victory where we had known only failure!"

Ross couldn't share WaruPiximon's enthusiasm, and simply tried to catch his breath. At length one of the hidden members of the Council spoke again. "We concur with your assessment, WaruPiximon. He is fit to lead."

WaruPiximon smiled and showed his teeth. "Ross, can you stand?"

Ross tried to support himself with his arms, but they were useless. He had to rise with his legs alone, and they didn't feel much better. Still, he was just able to stand at full height, though his body shook the whole while.

WaruPiximon hovered so that he was at eye level with Ross. "We of the High Council of Virus have found you worthy of our confidence. In exchange for your power, we will offer you the minds and bodies of our soldiers. Henceforth their lives will be outranked by your whims."

WaruPiximon stuck out his hands, and all around them coalesced a cloud of iron filings. They fell into a line, and formed into a long, thin clump in midair. As WaruPiximon twisted his fingers, the clump became a sword. It was solid black and identical to the Commander's. "This sword is the mark of your authority. Take it, and command is yours."

Ross had no skill with a sword, and moreover he hated the look of this particular one. Regardless, he wasn't going to let meaningless symbols influence his decisions. If he had to take this thing to have the Virus help him kill the Commander, then that was that. He reached out for the sword with a hand he could barely move. His fingers came to life though when they neared the hilt, and he grabbed it without difficulty or hesitation.

All at once he felt incredible. He stopped shaking, and he could feel all of his extremities again. His mind was sharp as a tack, and he remembered how to thrust, parry, and make the most of his footwork. How had he forgotten how to use a sword? But even though he could recall all the techniques now, he still needed practice. He looked up, and standing by one of the lockers was that asshole eighth grader with the blonde hair. The big idiot thought he was all that just because he had lots of friends and wasn't in the seventh grade like Ross was. He would do nicely.

Before the kid had a chance to blink Ross stuck him in the gut with the Black Sword. The lowlife screamed in agony and Ross twisted the knife before yanking it out again. The younger boy was in ecstasy, and he slit the bully's throat to shut him up forever. For the first time in who knows how long the boy smiled and laughed he was so, so, so happy.

Then Ross dropped the knife and threw up on the hallway's cracked tile. Something was wrong. He had never pulled the knife on another kid. He had never enjoyed fighting and he had never gone out of his way for it and he certainly didn't enjoy it now. He wasn't in the seventh grade anymore and he had moved to a new school and then to a new world. So why was this kid here? Why had he killed him? How could he face her? How could he face—

Her name. He had forgotten her name. There was someone important whom he couldn't remember. A girl he liked. He had her face in mind for a moment, but now it was gone. He tried to remember all the children they had been protecting together, but they were all blanks as soon as he almost recalled any of them. There was another guy around his age who had come to the other world with them, but he was gone too. They had been friends with a Garurumon, an Agumon, and a Biyomon, but they were gone as well. Why could he remember only the species and not the individuals?

The hallway was gone, and everything was black. He had to stop forgetting. He was Ross Pickett Jackson and he was from outside Bristol, Virginia but now he was stranded in another world. He was Ross Jackson from Virginia and he had come to another world. He was Ross from somewhere in the South and now he was here. He was someone from some other world and now he was among the Virus.

He was in a panic. He wanted to be far away from here. He wanted to feel safe again. He wanted to grab a squirrel by the neck and slice its abdomen open. 'No!' he thought, 'Why would I want that!' But no matter how much he denied it, that was what he wanted now.

He was no longer alone. Standing in front of him was WaruPiximon. The little monster laughed and laughed at the sight of him. 'Liar,' thought the human. 'That thing's a liar. Why did I ever listen to it?'

All the cuts on the human's face opened up again. He would have to change his bandages, which had been there as long as he could remember but he didn't know when that was. Desperately he tried to tell himself that he didn't want this. There was someone else who was stealing his mind who wanted this, not him. Soon he could no longer fight it, as all of his senses were gone.