Hey everyone! Sorry for the delays in updates; I've been so busy with work and school and the kids and all of the things adult life comes with. But I haven't forgotten!

So here you go. Enjoy!


So, they had defeated the Kimera.

No matter. He would make another one, a stronger one. For now, it had served its purpose of keeping them occupied.

Truly, he had Piemon to thank for the idea, and even perhaps the name. To bring his will and intent to life as a mindless being to control was brilliant. It would need some work to fully become what he needed it to be. Perhaps he could keep the Chosen alive for a little longer, to use as test subjects while he worked out how to make them stronger...

Still, it had given him enough time to find what he was looking for. Though it lay crumbling, his castle still occupied the same space. Ah, home sweet home...

It was here that he would find what he needed. He entered the castle and the smell of dust and damp stone assaulted his senses. Power emanated from the very walls, humming around him. This place had once been used by the Agents in their fight against the Dark Masters, until Piemon and his band had raided it and done away with them. Vamdemon then took it over, using is as his home and base of operations for many years.

In that time, he had come to learn its secrets, things that even the Agents had never learned about it. He wound his way through the labyrinthine corridors—halls he'd walked a thousand times before and knew inside and out—until he came to the very centre of the castle. The hallway opened up into a large circular room. Dingy tapestries and cobwebs hung on the walls, and silence was the only inhabitant.

His keen eyes roamed over the floor until they fell upon a single stone. It had runes carved into it, ancient and indecipherable. He stepped forward, kneeling on the cold ground. Though he'd inhabited this place for a very long time, this particular stone had always been a mystery to him.

That is, until now.

He reached a hand out and placed it at the centre of the stone. The runes came alight with a deep red light that filled the room. They lifted off of the stone and floated upward, swirling through the air and coiling around Vamdemon's arm. Then, as if they had been waiting for his arrival, they placed themselves gently and neatly on his arm.

The stone beneath his hand moved, sliding out from under his touch to reveal a hidden stairwell. He chuckled to himself and shook his head; a trap door, how very original. Castles these days...

He stood and made his way down the dust-caked stairs. The passageway seemed to never end, and it was so dark that even he had trouble seeing. Still, he continued, feeling something just at the edge of his senses that he couldn't yet identify.

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the bottom of the stairs. Before him was an endless lake of black water, still as still could be. He cocked his head curiously for a moment. This place thrummed with a deep and ancient power that was strange and yet all too familiar. It was that power that had drawn him here, to this place outside of reality, and he took a tentative step forward. The water rippled underneath him, but seemed to support his weight with ease.

Curious, he thought to himself.

He walked out into the expanse, the silence around him chilling. Even his footsteps made no sound, despite disturbing the water. It was an eerie setting, and his senses prickled at the power that emanated out all around him.

"Who dares enter my domain?" hissed a cold voice. It was familiar to him—more than familiar. It was this voice that had taught him pain and the power of fear.

"You know very well who I am," came Vamdemon's cool reply.

"Vamdemon." The acknowledgement was even colder than the greeting. "You have changed."

"And you have stagnated, Apoclymon." Vamdemon's lips curled into a wry smile. "Fear not, for I will liberate you from your prison."

"You mean to absorb my power." Images of Vamdemon's exploits flitted across the surface of the blackened water, floating to the surface and disappearing again. "I have watched you from this place."

"How very shrewd." His smile faded a little. What was this place?

"It is the place where everything and nothing converge, well beyond time and space," Apoclymon replied, as if he had heard Vamdemon's silent question. "And yes, I can hear your thoughts."

"Then you know that I will succeed in taking your power," Vamdemon said.

"Yes, you will," Apoclymon replied, "because I will give it to you freely."

"That's charitable of you." Vamdemon frowned. "Why?"

"Because I cannot leave this place on my own. Those wretched Chosen brats sealed me away here and I am unable to leave, even after you have broken the binding spell that held me. In part, it is due to my own power. But you, Vamdemon, are able to walk freely, and so by giving my power to you I am assured that it will be used to rid this world and all others of their presence."

Vamdemon thought for a moment. Apoclymon, who had created him from pieces of his own data, who had taught him fear and pain and hatred, who had shown him the power of the Darkness, was just going to give his power up. Something about that notion seemed off.

"What's the catch?" Vamdemon asked.

"The catch," Apoclymon chuckled. "The catch is that you have to be able to contain me. It will be no easy feat. If you fail, you will simply be absorbed by me and become a part of this void."

"You underestimate me."

"No, Vamdemon, it is you who underestimates me. My very existence warps the fabric of space and time. Do you truly believe that you can contain that within your mortal form?"

"I have absorbed much already. You will be a simple addition." Vamdemon held his hand aloft and the runes that had implanted themselves on his arm began to glow again. They lifted from him, swirling around once more. They moved much faster this time, spiraling rapidly around his arm as they pulled in energy from all around him.

Slowly, Apoclymon began to break apart, cackling maniacally as he did. Piece by piece, Vamdemon pulled him in. With each fragment, he felt himself grow stronger and more powerful. His mouth curled upward and he laughed—slowly, at first, but growing more crazed as he felt Apoclymon's power fuse with his own.

That this much power existed was enough to drive one mad. That he and he alone would be the one to possess it—what a glorious sight it would be. With this, he was sure to crush the Chosen Children with ease.

The runes slowed their rotation and stopped in the air. They hung for a moment, perfectly still. Then, quite suddenly, they shot back into his arm. The second they touched him, he was overcome with immense pain unlike anything he had felt before. It spread rapidly over his entire body, seeping down into his very existence.

He dropped to his knees, screaming and writhing in agony. His eyes spun and rolled back in his head. There was no glorious sight to behold here; he lay crumpled on all-fours, breathing heavily, spittle dripping from his fangs. The pain consumed him, scorching every bit of him until he was sure he could take no more.

No...NO! He had to contain it! Everything now hinged on this—his ability to contain Apoclymon and all the power he held. He fought hard against the forces churning inside his body and trying to consume his very being. The pain was excruciating, and he was sure his mind would burst from the torrent of information now flooding into it.

Finally, the pain subsided. His body ached, and he collapsed on the surface of the water. He felt drained, as though every last shred of energy had left him. And yet, he could feet Apoclymon's power within him now, coursing through his body. He was stronger, of that much he was certain.

With great difficulty, he pushed himself back up. He managed to catch a reflection in the water beneath him and admired it for a moment. He was a gruesome sight indeed.

His face had twisted and reformed into something quite handsome. Where his hair had once been short and tight against his head, it was now long and sleek, hanging to the middle of his back. Ten black, bladed wings stretched out behind him, monstrously large and formidable to behold. He was clad in black and red, with shining black armour across his chest, shoulders, and legs.

He stood, admiring his new form. He was no longer just a powerful Digimon—he was the most powerful Digimon that had ever existed. Why, he was a god.

"And should I not call myself what I am?" he said aloud. "I shall be OkamiVamdemon, and none will stand in my way." He let out a high, cruel screech of manic joy, shaking the very fabric of the world around him.

"And I am coming for you, Chosen."