They got back to the castle in the dead of night, travelling all of the next afternoon despite Karatenmon's protests at how much his feet hurt.
Their recruitment drive had been a success, meeting and exceeding their quota by an extra half. Once back at the castle, the new troops were sent off to be sorted into their dorms and who would have the unfortunate job of being their commanding officer.
Bidding a quiet farewell to SkullMeramon and the others, Salamon padded slowly through the castle to Myotismon's study. She knocked, half headbutting the door in her tiredness, only to find no reply.
With a heavy sigh, she knocked again, wanting nothing more to get inside and sleep.
Still no answer.
Wondering whether she should try to find Myotismon - or someone to open the door for her at least - tiredness turned to hunger, but the energy to walk all the way back down towards the kitchen escaped her.
'Ugh,' she mumbled, looking around for any life signs.
Finally giving up, she slumped onto the ground, legs splaying in all directions as she allowed her eyes to drift closed and herself to slip into sleep.
Short lived was the nap, when she felt herself being lifted and carried into the study by familiar hands.
Purring, she curled into the leather of Myotismon's gloves, not opening her eyes just yet, hoping to go back to sleep.
'You need to find your own room soon,' Myotismon's voice told her in a serious tone.
'Later,' she purred, hardly comprehending what he had said.
There was an annoyed noise from him as she felt him sit down and place her on his lap, stroking her curved spine.
'I hear you did well on your mission. The new troops looks promising.'
'The others did all the work,' Salamon mumbled, not wanting to talk about the outing.
'I've been told quite the opposite. You're an inspiration.'
Salamon tucked her nose tighter under her paw, squeezing her eyes together, trying to suppress the memories.
'I'm almost impressed.'
'I'm not,' she mumbled, realising he wasn't going to let her sleep.
'Oh?'
Uncurling and looking up at him, she shook her head.
'Someone is dead because of me.'
Myotismon's lips were already twisted into his usual smirk and it widened at her words.
'You're training to be a soldier, and an officer. Do you really think you can get to where you want to be without anyone paying the price? Better them than you.'
Salamon shivered and Myotismon resumed petting her.
'No one should die. Reppamon didn't deserve to,' she stated, wriggling away from his hand.
He placed it on her again, stroking behind her ear.
'Reppamon had openly opposed me previously. Something needed doing.'
'You could have taken him prisoner. We could have captured him and brought him back here,' Salamon suggested.
A deep chuckle escaped Myotismon's lips.
'How is a life chained up and barely existing better than death?'
Thinking for a moment, taken aback by Myotismon having any concept of anything of the sort, Salamon shook her head.
'I guess it isn't. But at least then there would be the hope of escape or one day being released.'
His hand ceased, and went under her jaw, gripping the sides of her face firmly and twisting her head to look up at him.
She winced in pain, letting out a pathetic, tired mewl.
'There is never hope, nor relief from the darkness. Once you are captured, you can't escape,' he told her.
She had a feeling he was talking about a lot more than Reppamon, and she shuddered, trying to pull free of his grip.
He released her, still staring at her, dark eyes glistening with the reflection of the candle flame on his desk.
'I met someone after the incident with Reppamon…' she said quietly, scared of the outcome of the conversation she was about to approach.
'Oh?'
'Piddomon.'
Myotismon's lips twisted into a grimace.
'Of course it would be.'
She missed a beat before continuing.
'He said something about you… and something called the Dark Masters.'
For a moment, Myotismon's eyes glazed over and his chest stilled as he stopped breathing.
Salamon couldn't help but feel fearful at his reaction.
'Not "something" but rather someone,' Myotismon said finally, blinking hard, brow furrowing behind his mask as he idly moved some papers around on his desk.
'But, "Masters" implies more than one?'
Salamon was suddenly awake, amazed Myotismon was even entertaining her intrigue.
Myotismon nodded his head once.
'Who are they?'
'None of your business.'
She'd had a lot of time to think about them on her travels, in the hours of silence after they had left the first town. She had a few theories, and was damned if she was going to just leave it alone, no matter the consequences.
'Myotismon, I want to know,' she insisted, daring to stare him in the eyes.
His jaw tightened, and atop his desk, a blank parchment piece crumpled in his fingers as he balled his hand into a fist.
'Don't forget… your place,' he growled.
'Who are they?' she pressed, his reaction catching her off guard.
Before she knew what was happening, she was crashing against a bookcase at the other end of the room, her side burning from where Myotismon had punched her.
Myotismon was on his feet and heading for the door by the time she had righted herself, an intense pain setting in at her ribs.
Instead of leaving, Myotismon wrenched the door open, hinges quaking as they struggled to stay attached to the doorframe.
'Get out,' he ordered, glaring at her.
'No!' she found herself shouting back. 'Everytime I ask a question, you shut me down. I want to know. I have a right to know if whatever I'm asking about affects me.'
'It doesn't - now get out of my sight.'
She stood her ground, shaking with the adrenaline rush that had hit, tears stinging in her eyes for some reason she wasn't sure of.
'What's descension?' she challenged.
Myotismon's eyes grew wide for a split second before he slammed the door shut and stormed over to her, trying to grab her again.
Salamon leapt away just in time, backing herself into a corner, bookcase and wall behind her.
'Ask anything else and you'll be locked in the dungeons for a long time,' Myotismon warned her as he closed the gap, smirking at her.
There was something more maniacal than usual about him. Whatever she'd started, it was something that hit a nerve with Myotismon, hard.
As he reached down to grab her again, she snapped with her teeth, catching the side of Myotismon's hand, feeling the sharpest of her teeth pierce through the leather and hit skin.
Myotismon dropped her, surprised by her boldness, and astounded she'd drawn blood, her choking and spluttering on the substance bringing him to laughter.
Pulling his glove off as Salamon sat back into the corner as far as she could, she watched him look over the wound.
'I am constantly impressed by your courage, Salamon,' he told her, placing his hand to his mouth and licking the blood away.
She cocked her head to the side as all trace of the wound faded, data fuzzing around the broken flesh and sealing it shut.
'But disappointed by your stupidity.'
He picked her up and in her fear, she allowed him too.
'Are you going to lock me away?' she asked meekly.
He shook his head.
'No, I think bravery should be rewarded, with a taste of your own medicine.'
Before she could ask what he meant, her head was being wrenched to the side, neck stretched out as far as possible over her Holy Ring. Myotismon pulled the band back and sunk his fangs into her flesh, dragging them across, tearing two channels around her neck, avoiding ripping her jugular.
She screamed, kicking against him, wriggling as much as she could to try and escape. Dry sobs began to escape her lips, tears somehow holding back as Myotismon retracted his teeth.
Dangling limply in his hand, his head still close to her as she felt the warmth of her blood and the cold of his breath creep down her neck and front leg.
He let her bleed for a few moments, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open but otherwise fixed in her usual defiant glare. Then, almost as if he knew she was about to pass out, he ran his tongue up the streams of red matting in her fur before pressing against the two wounds.
Salamon shuddered as she felt the data fizzle as it had done on Myotismon's hand, a cold rush running from her toes to her tail tip.
She whimpered again and bowed her head as Myotismon surprisingly tucked her into his arm instead of throwing her to the floor.
'Sleep,' he told her, and all of a sudden, her eyelids felt like lead and it was a struggle to keep them open.
'Yes master,' she mumbled, tucking her nose into his sleeve, the smell of the dried blood on her fur filling her nostrils and making her head spin.
She didn't feel him put her down, so guessed he kept her on his lap for the rest of the night. She was unsure how it made her feel, being close to him when he had just bitten her and half killed her.
What little blood she had left in her body was thumping in her ears and twisting images in her head, making a figure appear. At first, she thought it was Piddomon, with two white feathered wings stretching from it's back, but then, as the image manifested stronger, she saw it had fangs under purple lips as it smiled a twisted smile at her.
She turned and ran, the figure leaping into the air and beating its wings, landing in front of her and blocking her path with no effort.
It called her name, wings growing bigger and bigger and finally enveloping her as it walked towards her.
The last thing she remembered was being smothered by white feathers, and the smell of blood before she jolted awake, panting and sweating in consciousness.
'Bad dream?' Myotismon asked with a smirk.
She was on his lap, and he was sat by his desk, chair pushed away. A book was in his hands and he looked down at her through the gap below his eyeline.
Salamon rolled over, stretching out with a yawn.
'I can't remember,' she said, memory suddenly blank.
'Good,' Myotismon said with a smile.
A frown crossed Salamon's face before she shook her head, scattering her suspicions.
'I'm hungry,' she stated.
'Then go and get some food.'
The effort it would take to walk down to the kitchens daunted her, and she shook her head.
'I'll wait,' she said.
With a flicker of a smile, Myotismon rolled his eyes and shook his head.
'What are you reading?' Salamon asked as she sat up and strained her chin to look.
A knot in her neck twinged and she let out a hiss, placing her paw to it.
'Everything ok?'
She nodded her head, massaging the knot.
'I guess I slept funny,' she replied absentmindedly.
'Of course. It's nothing interesting, just some theories on the formation of the Digital World and the first Digimon to exist.'
'Oh,' Salamon mumbled, wondering how exactly that wasn't interesting.
'You want to know what it says?'
She blinked up at Myotismon, staring before nodding her head.
'I want to be able to read and understand.'
With a sigh, Myotismon closed the book and placed it on his desk, picking up a scrappy piece of parchment with only a few words on it.
'Let's start with something simpler than ancient history and magic.'
'Magic?' Salamon asked, eyes lighting up.
She earned a flick to her ear, softer than she would have expected but either way, Myotismon held the parchment in front of her on his lap.
'Let's start with this word here.'
He explained to her what each letter sounded like and how their pronunciation changed according to the letters that followed or preceded. He was surprisingly patient with her, allowing her time to think and remember what he'd taught and by the end of the night, she could read the first few sentences of the parchment somewhat fluently.
As she yawned more and more frequently, and as the light outside grew brighter, Myotismon told her to sleep and she gladly obeyed, curling up in her blanket, breathing in deeply at the familiar smell, frowning at the disheveled bookcase in the corner before her eyes drifted closed once again.
Thankfully this time, she wasn't plagued by angels.