Author's Notes: This is the latest chapter that I did in the downtime of not posting in this site.
Update: Edited on 1/12/19
The following seconds rocketed over Jaune's head, dazed and coughing from the spoiled air and dirt that intruded his lungs, his perception dusted with stars from landing on the coarse soil. His neck wheeled involuntarily upon shifting to his knees, only to steal a glance of a large and heavy shadow engulfing him.
Blackness.
Any sound that he may have thought he heard, however blurred his senses were, the darkness had swallowed him whole. Little by little, he felt a fraction of himself slipping away, and an instinct that told him that this was one where he would never again awake. He struggled to recall the shenanigans that led up to this, but his mental strength was fading; slowly, agonizingly being chipped away for every second that the darkness held him, confined him, imprisoned him. The will was abandoning him.
Whittling, like the petals of a flower. Jaune peered at the distance, within the eye of the darkness, and there, stood the flower, its stem crooked; limp, but layered with an otherworldly glow that drew him near curiously. He reached a hand out, wanting to touch it, hold it, to caress such a pitiful and fleeting existence. But, then he retreated, fearful of speeding up the inevitable. It held only enough of its once lustrous petals; now droopy and sickly, to recognize it as a Marigold. Fields would dot the hilltops near his home, relatively clean of Grimm due to the huntsmen residing in their village.
At noon, when the sun was at its highest, he'd spare a bit to admire how they shined brightly, proudly, and with the passing breeze, wildly . From a vibrant yellow, to being splotched with striking shades of orange to key in the resemblance of flames.
To humor such a notion, there were instances where he would be blindsided by an urge to reach out and feel for any tangible signs of heat. Still, the disheartening tug of emptiness reared itself every time, coming and going - maddening. Like something; just something , was missing.
But, what?
His old childhood ambitions notwithstanding, he wanted for nothing. So, what was it that he was lacking? He wasn't short on family, had his three squares, a roof over his head. His life was content, peaceful - outright idyllic.
Except, for an infernal loneliness that would plague him on particular days. Like, there would be someone next to him that he expected to be there if he looked. A hand that he could hold, a shoulder that he could link his arm around, a fist that he could bump with his own, smiles and laughter, sorrow and grief, anger and disputes. And it wasn't just with one. There were two; no, three - four of them. They were his...his…
If he could remember. Their voices, their faces, where they lived-
" I'm from Vacuo. Not really a nice place. But, what're you gonna do? 'S only home I know. "
" The best Kingdom around; Atlas!"
" Kuroyuri. That's where we're from. It's in Mistral if you all ever want to come visit. "
Their names-
" Sun Wukong. Don't wear it out. And, yes, that did sound cliche. "
" Cardin Win chester! Someday, everybody in Remnant's gonna know that name. "
" I'm Lie Ren. This is Nora Valkyrie. Or, that was her name before our parents adopted her. "
Jaune's fingers tensed, enthralled by the allure of the flower, mouth dryest that it had ever been, the urge returning with a vengeance. At a whim, he held out his hand, but yet to touch it, diffidence worming its way into his heart. It made him...fearful. Afraid. That if he were to cross such a threshold, there would be no turning back. Ever.
As soon as the tip of his index brushed along a loose petal, a fierce explosion consumed him, but he did not relent, did not back away, nary a flinch in sight at the deluge of flames carrying the threat of incineration. Rather, instead of hellish pain, it was soothing. He was at ease, more than he had felt in the years since...
Since…
When the fire finally dispelled, it was chased by a blinding flash of light. Jaune brought up an arm to shield his eyes, wanting to see what became of the flower. Only managing a glimpse, he saw that it was gone, but in its place was a shape as if carved from the light itself. Any earlier misgivings had dissolved along with the fire, the intensity blanketing him immediately upon grabbing it.
A voice. Her voice.
The game to decide your future has begun.
Would you like to start?
...
"...Yes."
"Hey... hey !"
The blonde stirred, but largely remained inert, drumming up additional worry from Bokomon that Guardromon's bulk did more harm than the intended good of shielding them from the cave in, the big idiot failing to take into account that he could have been a tad bit more gentle in his approach when he made it just in the nick of time. Then again, had he been a second too late, he'd find himself back at Primary Village, none the wiser. He didn't know enough to be certain of the lad's fate, however. Could humans be reborn? More research material for later. That was if they could all get out of this fiasco with wounds to lick.
"Jaune, wake up," the imp tried again, nudging him desperately, time being of the utmost essence. The kid was alive, thank Yggdrasil, but unless they found a means to escape the death trap they were now smacked dab in the middle of, it wouldn't matter for long. He gazed up again to see how Guardromon was valiantly holding the line, the larger digimon's eyes alight to provide the only source of illumination, and felt the distraught grip tighter at the miserable sight of his friend, with a few grunts of pain to express how the combined weight of rock and metal was taking its toll on the machine digimon's body.
"Guardromon," Bokomon stuttered. "You shouldn't have-"
"D-Don't-" Guardromon cut him off, breath coming out shallow. "Can't...talk..."
"You idiot!" the tiny digimon chided on. "Orgemon is just going to destroy the village and scan everyone, anyway. So, why!?"
"You...really need...to ask?" Guardromon grunted fretfully, as if it wasn't wholly obvious that he was serving as the linchpin between their survival and certain doom. Bokomon was startled by a sound of metal creaking, followed by a few rocks spilling down. His hull may have been durable enough to take a hit and withstand subterranean hazards, but not to this extent, his left knee torn from its hinges, the stump digging into the ground.
Above the chamber were long abandoned facilities, equipment and paraphernalia, in addition to the metallic particles locked in the sediment from centuries of use. It was hard to imagine the limits that Guardromon was pushing for his body to not be completely flattened by the combined weight, let alone staying conscious.
"Guardromon…" Bokomon's eyes stung, touched, before re-shifting gears into looking for a way out. He was no Drimogemon, and him knocking headlong into a big chunk of debris would be one hell of a story to tell over drinks.
Okay, what next?
Oh, to hell with it. What else was there? As far as he could guess at that moment, Orgemon and his lot were already having the time of their lives culling off the population as punishment for what he must have erroneously concluded to be a betrayal, ignoring the shameless hypocrisy behind it. With such slim odds staring down at them, it was a wonder that he thought that they could have ever come to a compromise with a hardass like Titamon in the first place.
The warlord wanted their ore, and at the time, the Gardromon were all too happy to give it if that meant avoiding any direct involvement in the war.
At first.
It didn't take long for him to demand that those under his territories enlist as soldiers to replenish their numbers, if not used as fodder for their data, to the imp's intuitive suspicion. Anyone would have pegged them as fools and weaklings, but in the face of the reckoning force that rightly bore the epithet 'One-Man Division '; a digimon reputed to have given members of the Olympus XII pause, the sheer thought of resisting was nothing short of a formal request for suicide.
Something must have changed for Titamon to have decided that their insignificant town was no longer a stout investment. Not that he could blame the guy. The barbarian had to be as sly as he was calamitously powerful to remain a major player in the game, and he would change his approaches at a dime if he could help not pulverizing whatever it was that was giving him a bad day.
In the meantime, their bad day wasn't even close to starting, the situation teetering on the brink. As soon as he was about to slump down in defeat, he heard the faint rustling of movement, and to his rising excitement upon stealing a glance, the young man was stirring again; livelier than before judging from the arm that flew up to rub at his head.
Bokomon's throat became caught, relief overcoming his tiny form at the sight of the boy awakening. It was strange that he would feel this much for a complete stranger. He was no bleeding heart, but he had enough courtesy to help anyone so long as they agreed to not beat the crap out of him for his data. Much of the reason for him residing with the Guardromon was that they were the friendliest bunch that he had come across since migrating from Primary Village.
Some of the Guardromon that had lived the longest; including their own, however, swore that he'd always been a residence, hence, why they were so quick to take him in in spite of the war. A previous life? Lives? Did he always come here after every birth cycle? It'd be astounding if true, and highly improbable for him to have retained any scrap of memories for that hypothesis to be feasible. But then, how could he explain these emotions? Certain compulsions that baffled him, with some that reared themselves out more than others, such as spending the majority of his free time out at the border, keeping his distance from the minefield, but enough so as to watch for whoever might come, almost like he was waiting for someone.
That particular compulsion withered ever since meeting Jaune.
From the moment that he got a better glimpse of his face, learned his name, talked to him, it was like a heavy dose of the same nostalgia overtook everything else. Being with him felt intimately familiar, which leaned a little on the creepy side without the right context, but hey, that was what internal monologues were for.
He frantically crawled up to the boy, who was still flat on his back and nursing what he could definitely empathize was one monster of a headache. "Jaune! Are-Are you okay? Anything broken? I'm sure Guardromon's feeling really, really, really sorry, honest!"
A noncommittal moan escaped from his lips, face creasing, responding absently to the imp's frantic words that he barely noted, "What?"
"A rock hit you on the head before Guardromon saved us, is what I meant," Bokomon verbally dodged, pausing. "Okay, maybe 'saved' is too strong of a word. More like, hanging by a thread." He capped off with a snort, "But, hey, look at the positives. At least we're together. Right, guys?"
Both Guardromon and Jaune groaned, more from their own respective plight than irritation at Bokomon's attempt at allaying the mood.
The blonde let out a breath, "Anyone care to recap what the hell just happened?"
"Orgemon got mad that he didn't get what he wanted, buried us here for it, and is most likely merrily slaughtering the citizenry of the Terminal right now for their data to twist the knife in because he and his boss are dicks," Bokomon responded snappily, sounding none too pleased. "I'd be stringing together hyperbole if this wasn't a typical day in the Digital World."
"I know."
"Yeah, you should. You-" Bokomon balked. "What?"
"Not a lot has changed," Jaune said in a calmer temperament. "I'm sorry, Bokomon."
The tiny digimon paused, "...Sorry for what?"
"Close your eyes."
"Excuse me?"
"When I give the signal, close your eyes," Jaune told him, bridging their gazes in the dim lighting, the human's own shining with a confidence that hadn't been there earlier. "Trust me."
He did.
Bizarrely enough, without saying another word, he was willing to entrust his life to this boy. A complete stranger. Well, it could have been the gradual depletion of breathable air that was messing with their minds, but he figured that delirium was a small blessing compared to the crippling fear of dying.
"You too, Guardromon," he extended to the machine, grateful for the hospitality and kindness shown to him from the beginning, and a little embarrassed for the poor way that he had received them.
Guardromon was in no position to question the human, and even if he was, he would have found no reason to refuse a friend for a simple task. Both agreed to it. Satisfied, Jaune held his hand out.
In a moderately sized crater located at the outskirts of the border lay the ruined shards of his scroll, the pieces strewn about taking on a faint glow as a force pulled at them to congregate. The device reconstituted, it jetted towards the town. Past the turmoil, the destroyed and burning homes, the remaining villagers that were defending their lives from the merciless ministrations of their former benefactors, and lastly, past a smug Orgemon in the midst of commanding one of his men to power on through to finish off the resistance.
"What the-!?" the green ogre squawked, nearly thrown off balance by the ball of light that headed his way at record speed, and would have blown off a chunk of his torso had he not bucked on reflex. "The hell?" He was flabbergasted further when the damn thing made a quick turn for the tunnel that they exited after cutting off those three loose ends, disappearing entirely.
"Sir?" the unit that he had intended to direct before the interruption referred to him, having caught a glimpse of the stray projectile along with his fellows. "Should we look into that?"
Orgemon pondered. "Three of you stay here to take out the survivors and stragglers. You!" He pointed to a Gazimon that chose to remain by his side to radio in a report to their outpost. "With me."
"Ho!" the four of them saluted, or sounded their acknowledgement for those that could no longer use their front limbs.
As the chaos ensued once again, the General and his subordinate wasted no time to intercept what that was, and maybe waste the damn chode that judged poorly to fuck with them while they were in the midst of business.
Guardromon, by his end, was nearing the end of his ropes, his back engine crushed, bolts coming loose. Still, if this was to serve as penance for his moment of weakness; his betrayal, then so be it. Bokomon shared in the anxiety, but chose to remain vigilant for the signal despite the looming pessimism. The air was getting thinner, making it harder to breathe the longer they were trapped. Warmer, too.
"Warmer? " Bokomon thought as his senses picked up a steadily rising heat source coming from his side, where Jaune was, his body emanating the same fiery glow that he had witnessed just days ago. " Again?. "
Jaune's lips curled into a knowing smile, body glowing brighter and hotter. Guardromon was momentarily distracted from his pain, the toil now a frivolous flight of fancy compared to the warmth that he and Bokomon were bathing in, a trickle of his strength returning, but enough that he doubled in his efforts, energized by thoughts of wanting to protect his friends.
Bokomon gaped in disbelief at the larger digimon's second wind, before turning back to Jaune, the burgeoning glow irradiating the once dim cavern.
"Why are you smiling?"
Jaune glanced up at the imp, "Hm?"
"We're..." Bokomon bit his lip, "even if we do manage to escape from here, Orgemon would still be up top, ready to kill us."
The blonde stared at him, "I know."
"So, what's the point of us struggling? It'll...it won't change anything," Bokomon admitted weakly.
"...To live."
Bokomon blinked.
"I want to live, Bokomon," Jaune pronounced softly, getting harder and harder to breathe, the imp's chest taking on weight. "Do you?"
The broached question should have been simple to answer, and indeed, he did want to live. There were still things that he wanted to see, wanted to learn, wanted to do, and by then, he wouldn't care if he could do it all over again after every rebirth. Again and again, until his data decomposes entirely. It was far better than nothing. It would be proof. Proof that it was real. That they were real. That they were alive.
"I do, but, how can we get out?"
"Now."
"Huh?"
"NOW!"
It was the signal, and not a second too soon, the ball of light phased through the mountainous pile that they were buried under and into Jaune's grasp. A surge; no, an explosion resounded, one that cleared their surroundings, but leaving them incredibly unscathed. Bokomon took one curious peek, one eye slitting open, then peeling them fully to feast on what was happening.
Fire.
A veritable ocean of flames, so thick that he couldn't even see across it. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the thought of being immolated, but there was no pain. All he felt was the same comforting warmth. He looked down to inspect his body, expecting to at least find some singeing and angry red welts, but he was fine.
Bokomon pinched himself, flinching when he did, less alleviating to know that this wasn't a traumatic hallucination brought about by a change in his brain chemistry. Turning to Guardromon, the big dumdum's own eyes were still closed, but that wasn't what made him gawk.
Any damages that the machine digimon may have sustained from the herculean task of keeping them from being crushed were gone, looking good as new.
He called for the idiot to open his oculars. "Wow!"
A stellar orator if he's ever heard one.
"Guardromon," Bokomon tested to see if they could perceive sound in this bizarre plane, "how do you feel?"
Guardromon blinked in confusion at first, then at the flames that were harmlessly licking at his hull, marveling at his healed body. "I-I'm okay?"
"Looks like it."
"And Jaune?"
The fire encompassing them began to converge, catching them off guard, until only a single pillar remained at the center. Bokomon whirred, checking to see if the blonde was still alive, eyes becoming affixed on a figure set ablaze in blue and orange, sparks flickering like fireflies dancing jubilantly. The human was standing tall amid the phenomena, burlap clothes unmarred, hair shining like gold. The sight filled him with a thick sense of deja vu.
Jaune held up his reassembled scroll, watching the panel morph before him, thickening and compressing as to snugly fit his hand. The body was now black with red accents, resembling a very crude model of a phone, or a gamepad, with two buttons under the small screen, and an additional one by the left side.
He lifted his head, and surely enough, there it was, capturing his gaze with its own, ruminating each other, neither withdrawing from the contest of reignited wills.
The Spirit.
Bokomon and Guardromon were seeing it as well, reverently silent as it descended towards the boy. With one last flare to end the fantastical display, the pillar vanished in a burst of energy. When all was calm again, the only ones that remained were the three of them standing in the evidently empty cavern, the light of the sun beaming in from the enormous hole likely brought about by the explosion, with Bokomon deducing on where all of that excess load went to for them to be left with so much space.
"Is it too much to ask for one thing to go your way, Gazimon? Is it?"
A chill went up the imp's spine at the deceptively cool inflection, head snapping to the entranceway to find Orgemon and his henchman standing side by side.
"No, sir," the Gazimon replied mechanically.
"Mhm, mhm," Orgemon nodded, cupping his chin in a mock display of contemplating the obvious. "So, what you're saying is, it wouldn't be too much for me to pry the Spirit off of this pitiful human's cold, dead hands, after having my jollies of murdering the fuck out of him?"
"No, sir." the smaller digimon replied again with a smirk.
"Hm, I see." Orgemon stepped forward, pointing his club at them with a menacing aura to enhance his presence, voice deepening as he motioned with the same hand, "Then, let's cut to the chase, buckos. Give it."
Jaune, unphased by the ogre's return, kept half an eye on him, remaining silent as he held the device near his chest.
A visible vein popped on Orgemon's temple from the blonde's apparent refusal, tone contrastingly calm, but no less dangerous. "You really don't want to make things worse than they already are, kid. Just ask all of the sorry chodes that me and my men just scanned." Guardromon paled at the words, devastated to hear confirmation of the vile deed. "Oh, wait! They're all dead, which you'll be if you don't give me the Spirit right the fuck now."
Bokomon, teeth chattering, expected for Jaune to do anything, anything , so long as it wouldn't exacerbate tensions. Scream, run around, beg on his knees, ask Orgemon for his social media account, but instead, what he did made his blood run colder.
Jaune's eyes rolled. "How about, no?"
It was so casual, like there wasn't a guy standing a few feet away that would happily shove his club up their rear ends; ew, while singing a catchy ditty doing it.
"I admit, I'm not a very patient mon," Orgemon muttered under his breath, the narrowing crease of his permanent scowl concisely resembling his remark. "I try to be, I absolutely do, but is it really my fault that when I ask nicely, and they remain stubborn , that I see fit to give them more of an incentive to comply?" the bone club he wielded sizzled with electricity as he finished, causing the imp to gulp the lump that clung to his throat.
A smile worked its way into Jaune's lips. "Ever thought of working on your sales pitch?"
"What?"
"If you guys had better optics, you might , just might, be able to convince me."
"Optics?" Orgemon's scowl drew down. "We just massacred nearly half the people here, and you're blabbering about freakin' optics ? Give me the damn Spirit, or so help me, I will tear you apart with these very hands that rent a Hagurumon in two like it was a damn biscuit ."
Guardromon fell down on his knees, the reality hitting him harder than Orgemon's previous attack. "You...monster..."
"And that's what you get for trusting someone like me," Orgemon boasted flagrantly without missing a beat. "A chode like you? So eager to sell out your 'friends' that I had to be dumber than; well, who else to not take full advantage of it? You get what comes to 'ya, and no one to blame but yourself."
"He did it because of you forcing his people to fight, hornhead!" Bokomon spat back, some of his courage returning from comforting the larger digimon slumped in grief, face buried in his palms as he completely gave in to the tears.
"Spare me the sanctimony, cupcake," the ogre derided dismissively. "Have you two suddenly forgotten that this is how we live? We fight, we kill each other to get stronger. Those whose data get scanned in defeat? Weaklings not worth a damn! Nothing but food for the strong. Simple logic, probably the simplest there is. This war is but a symptom of that order."
"I agree."
Bokomon gaped at the words, of all people that he least expected to side with the ogre, it had to be Jaune.
"It would be peak naivete to expect digimon to live such peaceful lives given that they're quintessentially bred for battle. It'd hardly be the case, otherwise." Jaune turned to Bokomon, who was dumbfounded at the teen's inexplicable nuance, "Survival of the fittest. If you do not have the strength of mind and body to survive in this world, then of course you're going to die."
"Well, whaddya know, the human actually gets it more than these two lamebrains," Orgemon praised the lad condescendingly. "But that still doesn't change anything. Give me the Spirit."
Jaune's gaze trailed higher, returning the green menace's. "Can I ask you a question?"
Orgemon exchanged a glance with his subordinate, brow arching. "Those better be your last words before I blast your head off."
Jaune smiled simperingly, shrugging. "Sure, why not? It'll be the last words that you'll ever hear from me."
Orgemon acutely caught the teen's particular wording ambivalently, but nonetheless inclined for him to continue.
"If I kill you and scanned your data, then, I really wouldn't be proving anything contrary to our mutually intertwining beliefs now, would I?"
Time seemed to freeze as soon as the words left Jaune's mouth, the atmosphere slurring in silence, all present save for one either gaping or their jaw hanging slack in utter disbelief.
Nothing else but a snort, which soon escalated into an uproarious guffaw, would dissolve the lurid thickness.
"Merciful Yggdrasil! C-Co-Come again!?" Orgemon said between laughs, bellowing his heart out, chest quaking. "I-I'm sorry, could you repeat that? No, seriously, I-I-I-I think my ear must have been asleep or something, but-but, I could have sworn that you were implying that you can kick my ass."
Jaune continued to stare at the ogre, his expression somber and piercing, as the taller digimon gave in to another fit, while the Gazimon on his side was weirdly silent, sharply observing the scene playing out.
Orgemon wiped a stray tear from his eye, catching his breath after the workout his lungs just had, his open maw wide with mirth. "Oh man, it's been ages since I've had that much of a chuckle. Stress, and all. Welp," he sniffed, then inhaled deeply as he brought his arm up, "been nice knowin' ya."
"Jaune!"
"Wha-?"
In a span of what seemed like an eternity, Bokomon wondered if their God was putting him up to some kind of divine test on his sense of belief.
Impossible, was a term that had no practicality in the Digital World. The rest of his words died in his throat the instant that Jaune moved, and how he moved, was a spectacle that could be photographed and plastered under the dictionary definition as visual reference.
Orgemon himself was finding it hard to think of what just happened, his brain processes coming to an abrupt halt from the sharp pain that could be traced from his cheek, working its way through his jaw, courtesy of the fist that found its way to his face, attached to it being the very same human that he had mocked.
Jaune winced, the connecting of his strike rattling the bones and tendons from years of not having thrown a serious punch, having to rely on accumulating the code for it to drive the ogre back against the stairwell of the entrance, thrashing it. The Gazimon showed itself to be no slouch as he lunged for the teen, who was forced to weave and roll to add some distance between them.
"Destruction Grenade!"
As he was about to round back and pounce on the human once more, the Gazimon was blown across the floor via a missile fired from Guardromon's arm, his tear-stained eyes burning with revenge. "I know that most of this is my fault, but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna take it anymore while you're hurting more of my friends!"
The Gazimon recollected his bearings, shaking away the effects from the blow, before shooting a hateful glare at the machine digimon. "Gazimon, Slide Evolution!"
Ribbons of code spun around the canine digimon, dispelling a second later to reveal a larger, more bipedal were like creature with dark fur, wearing ripped camouflage jeans with a spiked knee-pad on the right leg and a normal one on the left, a bracer attached to an arm sleeve on his left arm, brass knuckles, and a dog tag around his neck.
"Black WereGarurumon!" the mon howled, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the beating that he was about to lay down. Bokomon gasped internally at the evolution, that a Rookie could ascend straight to Ultimate pointed to a high degree of experience on the Gazimon's part. Looks like Orgemon had put out all the stops for this little excursion of his, leaving nothing to chance in the hunt for the Spirit.
Guardromon didn't falter in the face of the opposition, his own glare intensifying in determination. "No more! I'm ending it right here. Right now !" It was his turn to be cocooned in code, much to Bokomon's rising shock, the energies from earlier invigorating him with the power to evolve as well.
The resulting digimon once the code dissipated could best be described as half-formed, a humanoid cyborg with sinew grotesquely meshed with wiring by his right leg and left upper arm, disparities compared to the rest of his silvery hi-tech armor, clawed hands, skull-like shoulder pads, narrow waist, and a helmet that resembled a human cranium with a gap that exposed an organic lower jaw with pale skin. Eyes once an innocent blue were now a fierce red, scaling his fellow Ultimate for vulnerabilities.
"Andromon is now operational," the being that was Guardromon; now Andromon, declared, "initiating measures to eliminate imminent threat. In other words, it's on! Spiral Sword!"
His right hand spun, the speed matching that of a drill until it began to surge with energy. He swung the arm diagonally, firing the accumulated charge at his opponent, who jumped to evade and counter.
"Fox Fire!" a stream of blue flames erupted from Black WereGarurumon's mouth.
"Grasp Hang!"
Rather than dodge, Andromon fired his arm at the airborne werewolf before the flames made it halfway, tethered by a strong cable as his hand managed to grab the beast's snout, cutting off the attack and swinging the bastard back down with enough force to crack the rusted floor to reveal a layer of bedrock underneath.
The werewolf sucked up the pain, swatting the arm to release him, then flipped back on his feet to twist his body in a ferocious roundhouse kick, whipping out a blade of energy to hopefully bisect the cyborg.
"Engetsugeri!"
Andromon ran in, doing a leap to dodge and dove for his opponent. From there, they grappled, with Black WereGarurumon executing swift kickboxing maneuvers to overpower the other, but Andromon endured, anticipating enough to slip in a "Weak Slap" at each interval to confuse, disorient and irritate his adversary.
Back to Jaune, who had observed the battle for a spell, sidestepped from a recovered and furious Orgemon's club, avoiding decapitation, but falling for what he regrettably found too late to be a feint, a large arm knocking him a few meters away from the edge of the newly carved mouth.
Orgemon glimpsed down, and was overjoyed at the sight of the trinket that held the Spirit on the floor, having slipped from the fool's grasp when he slugged him.
Jaune recovered in time and held his hand out to will the device to return, stoking the ogre's wrath from being a hair's breadth away of attaining the prize.
"Haouken!" Jaune tried to roll in a bid to circumvent the brunt of the retaliation, but was still propelled by the force, nearly slipping past the edge if not for a rock that jutted out of the floor.
"Give me the Spirit!" Orgemon roared. "I won't ask again!"
Jaune, winded and with sweat lining his brow, simply grinned defiantly at the ogre.
Ogremon raged, his fury uncaged as he readied another swing with both hands, "THEN, DIE!"
"No, you don't!" Bokomon, having taken advantage of the confusion, latched himself onto the green giant's face to claw at it. "Run for it! Go!"
Jaune wanted to slap the imp for such a monumentally moronic move, and was soon proven correct when Orgemon peeled the tyke off easily as if he were just removing a scab.
"You know, normally, this would be the part where I'd literally squash the life outta 'ya," he gave his prey a squeeze for emphasis, regret flooding the latter from the spur of the moment action. "But, providence demands that I be pragmatic."
Orgemon stomped over to the edge, then started to make a show of dangling the imp freely by the waistband, pinched between the claws of his thumb and index finger tauntingly over the steep cliff.
"Last chance, chode. You know I'll do it," he told Jaune in no uncertain terms. "Digimon may be tough, but a drop from this height is guaranteed to end this sucker like the bug that he is. Hand it over! Hand it over now , and he lives !"
Jaune found the whole thing to be ridiculous, knowing full well that he'd kill them both regardless. Instead of saying it out loud, he did the only thing he could under the circumstances.
Dusting himself as he stumbled to his feet, he walked up to the shrewd digimon, listlessly gripping the device, almost tantalizingly so, bent on working up the latter's aspirations for one last gambit.
Tossing it over the cliff.
Orgemon was in every position to bat it with his club to prevent it from falling, but the risk of damaging it would no doubt tarnish his objective and render this entire endeavor meaningless.
"Wh-oof!" Jaune threw all of his weight against the green barbarian's stomach from the momentary distraction, the teen's mad dash shocking them both as they were about to go over. "You fool!"
Thinking quickly, Orgemon stabbed his club into the bedrock, his immense stamina allowing him to dig into the wall easily. The same couldn't be said for the other two, peering over his shoulder to see them not being as fortunate. "Fine, have it your way! Fall! FALL! I don't care if I have to pick through your splattered remains for the Spirit. At least I get to have a front row seat, haha! "
Bokomon screamed, heart rate on overdrive from the adrenaline, air friction whistling past his tiny frame as he was dropping like a stone.
" Huh, this is how it ends, " his thoughts running at the same pace as his descent, " I hope they have super absorbent diapers when I wake up. I have a feeling I'm gonna need them. "With his impending death straight ahead, he could do nothing else but surrender, bracing for the impact.
The surprises didn't seem to be in any hurry to end soon, however, feeling something firm wrap around his waist, a shock of blonde hair rushing past his perception. "Hang on!"
Bokomon swallowed heavily. "Not really much of a choice if you haven't noticed!"
Jaune whooped joyously in spite of the peril, eliciting the assumption from Bokomon that the boy had merely been driven mad by the events up till now. "Get ready!"
"For what!?"
The device in the lad's hand, which he grabbed along the way of reaching the imp, lit up, vibrating with power. A ring of code then materialized around Jaune's free hand, much to Bokomon's astonishment, having never seen nor heard of a human that could manipulate code in a manner that a digimon could.
Unless…
Jaune aligned the device with said code, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Spirit, Evolution!"
Bokomon stole a glance over his shoulder, gaze scaling higher until the glare of the sun that filtered under Jaune's visage once the code around them dissolved made him wince, the shade making it difficult to discern his features.
"Hold on," the lad assured, securing him tightly.
"What's happening?" Bokomon asked, more confused than ever. "Shouldn't we be falling?"
"Are we?"
Bokomon inhaled deeply, intaking the refreshing air to help calm his nerves. "This can't be happening."
"It is."
"Then you...and all that code..." Bokomon swallowed, narrowing his eyes for a better glimpse, then backtracking when he did. "What...happened to you?"
"Memory still in the gutter?" Jaune, or someone who sounded like him, snorted. "You'll get it. Now, what are you gonna do when we get back up there?"
"Running away and screaming for dear life?"
"Erm," Jaune's lips thinned, "how about hiding in the corner until I beat the ever loving crap out of Orgemon. Good enough?"
Bokomon blinked, before his eyes traveled down, peering to the ground below as they went farther and farther from it, but that wasn't what made him gasp in disbelief. Jet bursts of flame that appeared to be generated from both the feet and free arm were propelling them, lifting them up rapidly, air friction brushing past him.
The imp dared to shakily ask, "How exactly are you gonna do that?"
"Like this," Jaune answered soberly, lips peeling back to release a battle cry as he spun in the air and rounded a leg to land a powerful kick on a stunned Orgemon, who had managed to scale back up and observe their ascent.
"Blergh!" Orgemon cried out, both in pain and shock, flying back and landing in a heap near the other two combatants, still locked in a stalemate, hands linked in a push for an advantage.
The duo landed, with Jaune relinquishing Bokomon to allow his feet back on sweet, solid ground. He would have kissed it too if not for the atmosphere, as an enraged Orgemon recovered.
"This has gotta be some kinda joke," the green giant wondered aloud, oncing the kid over.
Red armor over a black bodysuit, red gauntlets layered with white bracers, boots, a wide belt around the waist, a mask with two horns and exposed mouth. Wild, fiery blonde hair pooled past his waist, resembling a demon fresh from hell.
"Agnimon..." Orgemon scrunched his features in contempt. "So, that's what this whole deal is, huh? I should have guessed."
Bokomon, having found a suitable hiding place at the corner behind a displaced slab of wall, observed, finding the event before him surreal.
" Agnimon? The Agnimon? "
The Legendary Warrior of Fire, the one who inherited AncientGreymon's will after the climactic battle against Lucemon costed him and the rest of the Warrior Ten's lives.
" What's even going on anymore? Humans that can become digimon? The Legendary Spirit returning after centuries of slumber? Wh-What-Why does this- " Bokomon head throbbed, a wave of information flooding his mind.
" J-Jaune? " The imp looked out into the battlefield, Agnimon and Orgemon staring down one another contentiously, each of their respective energies flaring out in a weighted display of strength, of their intent.
At the same time, it was like a veil had been lifted, the wool over his eyes having been burned away by the very flames that were surrounding the red clad warrior.
"Jaune?" Bokomon repeated out loud before he knew it. Quickly, he dug into his waistband to pull out his book, opening it and flipping through the blank sections. His book, for whatever reason, always held portions that were blank and remained so no matter what he would do to fill them.
Anything written down would immediately be erased, as if there was something that kept them from being tampered in any way. But now? Now, he stopped at a page that he felt was right, and surely enough, writing, figures and Digimoji characters began to form, with a crudely done image of Agnimon etching itself onto the paper.
"Th-This is..." Slipping back and forth between the book and the two, the scales that fogged his mind's eye cleared, memories renewing in a flutter, a wide and excited smile upturning his lips.
"Jaune...Jaune, you're back!"
Jaune must have heard the exclamation of joy, as he earned a glance from the lad with a grin and nod.
"Then it's true," Orgemon hissed in realization, loud enough to snare back Jaune's attention. "Tell me; are you one? Are you of the original Chosen Children ? If so, then how is it possible? It's been over a thousand years, and I'm betting that you're not as long lived as us, human . So how can this be?"
Jaune, now Agnimon, answered with a step forward, marching purposefully towards the ogre until they were a foot apart. Orgemon's brow arched high, then remembered the kid's boast, huffing out a snort.
"Heh, right then!"
With a boom of his voice, Orgemon began to take a swing at the warrior with his club, but balked when he felt a pressure seize his chest. Choking, his eyes traveled down, trailing a fist digging squarely there.
He took cannonballs without flinching, so he was rightly stunned at how much force the blow carried over.
"Wata! " Agnimon snapped in a high-pitched kiai, delivering a kick to the winded ogre's head. "Ata!" then added a swift uppercut, chased by a roundhouse kick that batted him aside to scrape along the floor to eat the dirt.
Orgemon shook away the stars, shifting to lean on his elbow.
"You..." he growled, throwing a glare at his opponent, who wordlessly goaded him with a motion of his hand. "Bastard!"
Immediately upon righting himself, he pounced.
On Andromon's end, he ducked under a fierce swipe from Black WereGarurumon, but this allowed for the latter's other arm to strike upward in an arc.
"Kaiser Nails!"
Red with energy, claws slashed at the armor, but the damage was minimal from Andromon jerking back, his reaction time improved from his evolution, and evident from fluidly positioning his arm to fire his fist to counter.
The Were digimon, however, had now grown used to the other's movements, dodging at a split second and letting the tethered projectile go past him, opening a path for another slash. He grabbed the cyborg's arm, proceeding, but failed to account the cable retracting, Andromon's hand making a grab for his head to drive him into a headbutt.
Black Weregarurumon recoiled from the blow, stunned, allowing Andromon to fire again, only this time, swinging the cable like he would a whip, causing it to bend and swerve, wrapping around his prey and hooking a grip at the back of the neck securely.
"Yield," Andromon ordered flatly, his sense of mercy not shaved despite everything, but it was a mercy that was repaid by a spit from his captive.
"Fox Fi-!" Unphased, Andromon's chest plate opened, stopping the attack dead again by revealing two missile barrels ready to fire when ready, and at such close a range. It wasn't a matter of 'if', this being the last inkling that he was willing to give. "Call off the attack and leave my village. This is non-negotiable."
The Black WereGarurumon paused, seemingly in deliberation over his options after seeing the ultimatum given, before a grin dashed away any supposed compliance, as if amused by the offer itself rather than the threat enforcing it, resolving to stay silent out of further spite.
Andromon, incensed, bit back a snarl, or any visible sign of emotion, logic dictating that this was a futile gesture from the beginning, merely acting under whatever remaining influence of his old self had on this form.
"Gatling Missile!"
Black WereGarurumon's code was scanned reluctantly, but the cyborg quickly snuffed such misgivings out, his brain dictating that he needed to save his village in spite of his disrelish. Glancing towards the fight that remained, the cyborg silently wished his friend luck, with the probability of them succeeding dicey, but chose to let his belief get the better of the odds. With that, he made a run for the exit, readying a Spiral Sword at the first sign of an enemy.
Agnimon parried the club of a tireless Orgemon with both arms raised, flinching when the force behind it set in, knees buckling under the strain and rendering him stunned, allowing for the ogre to charge his fist.
"Haouken!"
The warrior of flame flew from the point blank attack to his stomach, the wind hammered out of him upon colliding with the wall, leaving an indent.
"If this is what suffices as a so-called 'Legendary Warrior' then maybe this was all for nothing," Orgemon sniffed, patting his club on his other palm. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but one can't help but feel a modicum of disappointment."
The Hone Konbou, his treasured weapon, fizzled, electricity forming as he made a dash towards Agnimon, who held steadfast.
Going in with another swing, he launched himself off the ground, club drawn all the way back. Agnimon caught the timing, letting the attack fall through and having it dig into the wall, a small explosion trailing after it and destroying a good chunk. Orgemon blinked, confused, then glanced to his right to see his quarry standing, looking every bit as winded from the rush.
"He dodged it? That fast?"
"Crimson Knuckle!"
Taking two steps to come within range, Agnimon swung a burning haymaker at Orgemon's jaw, the force of the blow channeling throughout the latter's entire skull.
"Argh!" Orgemon gurgled, blood spilling from his mouth, chased by bits of his molars. Releasing his hold around his weapon, he landed once again on his side.
Agnimon stood over the fallen form, recollecting his bearings as he appraised his seemingly prone foe. A pressure on his face told him that it wasn't so, Orgemon planting a kick that struck true, the sheer speed of which it was executed deceptive for a digimon of his bulk.
The pain was deafening, numbing, enough to knock him senseless if he hadn't been bracing for it. It was his turn to bleed, red tracks running down his nose, working desperately to clear the blurring of his vision, but wasn't even allowed that reprieve as Orgemon followed with a slam of his palm, driving him into the ground and leaving a small crater.
"Strong Maul!" Orgemon declared, unleashing a vicious series of slugs, jabs, stomps and hooks that he rained down on the incapacitated warrior. "You must think that I'm some kind of pushover, that I'll just crumble like all the rest of the chodes you've fought in your time. Well, your era's long done. A relic of the distant past that's on its last legs. You should have never come back!"
When he was finally done, he took a moment to appreciate a bruised and battered Agnimon, who; for the entire tirade, piteously endured, having brought both arms up to block, legs curled, but the damage couldn't be ignored, judging from the coughing and hacking of blood, gauntlets cracked along with pieces of the armor dented or torn.
"Relics like you should have just stayed a myth," Orgemon hocked a loogie at the beaten warrior. "If I had known that you'd be this weak, I would have gladly destroyed the Spirit like the useless piece of junk that it was, and now that you've given me a free trial, there's no longer any real reason to keeping you around."
He lifted a massive foot over the blonde. "How about a little experiment? Will you be reborn in Primary Village? Or, will I be left with a squashed pile of guts? Let's find out."
Bearing down the coup de grâce, he expected to hear and feel the pitiful vermin being crushed under his weight. Instead, Agnimon caught him, surprising both Orgemon and Bokomon, who had been watching the entire skirmish with baited breath, his morale on a tightrope at how the battle roughly played out.
Agnimon, teeth gritting and muscles aflame, poured all of his remaining strength into one last hurrah, not caring for what was to become of his own body, the desire; no, the need to reaffirm his own resolve spurring him on, unwilling to leave Bokomon and the rest to their fate.
Willing his aura to the limit, he cried out emphatically, the temperature rising as he ignited into a blazing star to burn an unprepared Orgemon, searing the flesh. A smell reached Bokomon, causing him to gag at how much it resembled rotten meat, while the green giant could only howl out in agony, forcing him to retreat and fall on his rear to nurse the appendage pathetically.
"Y-You bastard..." Orgemon hissed, tears welling. "I'll... kill you for that!"
Before he could make good on that threat, he looked up aghast at an Agnimon that was rising back to stand, hunched, breathing wearily, but his infernal aura indelibly unshakable, eyes harboring a cold rage to them that made Orgemon pause.
Never one to beg like a coward, though, he tried to charge another Haouken, only for Agnimon to beat him to the punch, literally, then grabbing his shoulder to lock him in place.
"Gatling Burst!" From that single punch, more ensued. " Atatatatatata! " Fast paced, unrelenting, fist wreathed in fire, Agnimon pummeled into the ogre with a recompense of the ferocity that was dealt to him.
" Ata! " he finished with an uppercut, and eclipsed it with a downward elbow, jabbing into the beast's eye.
Orgemon screamed, cupping the ocular with both hands, the pain multiplied from the assault. Agnimon watched instead of doubling down, awaiting the ogre's next move. As much as he wanted to end it then and there, there was a sliver of him that was more curious than merciful. And, perhaps, the kind of courtesy that his father would give in his place.
"Yield..." the word tasted bitter with the coppery blood. "It's pointless."
How the tables had turned. Orgemon must have shared in that sentiment, his good eye boring into the other digimon, red with hate.
"What's pointless...is that you're a dead man either way," Orgemon said between coughs. "Kill me, for it will matter not. Lord Titamon will see to this village's destruction, as all who have foolishly stood in his way. When the time comes; and it will , I can only relish that you'll be thinking of me. Mark my words," he laughed hoarsely, hacking out more blood, " I will be the very last thought you'll have when he finally snuffs you out. You hear me? I want you to take a good long look at me, and drill it into that quaggy peabrain of yours. Haha, and I'll be laughing, just like this!"
Then again, he wasn't his father.
"Burning Salamander!"
Pounding his fists together, flames blossomed forth from the gauntlets to fringe around his forearms. Agnimon parted the link, withdrawing his right arm where the element coalesced and morphed into the shape of a dragon. With a roar, he hurled the devastating blow to engulf Orgemon whole. All throughout the smooth sequence of the attack, the beast cackled. It was a hoarse, visceral laugh that chilled an onlooking Bokomon as the monster gleefully embraced death with pride.
Agnimon scanned the leftover code amidst the smoke and ashes, leaving the shining remnants of a Digitama to soar to the sky, to where all would be given their new beginnings. He watched it blandly, before falling to his knees, exhaustion consuming him.
Bokomon, seeing this, steadied his nerves and unfurled himself from his alcove, running up to his long forgotten friend with the drive to pounce on him with a hug, but a closer survey of his friend shot that urge in the water, and instead, settled with gently patting the warrior on the arm on a job well done once the latter became seated.
"It's over..." the imp said, and the blonde couldn't help but deem the words as leaning a bit on the cryptic side.
The fight, or the village?
There were still the other three left, but the absence of Andromon told them that the cyborg must have acted in the defense of his home. The chances of him handling a handful of what were, in all likelihood, Champion to Ultimate stage digimon, and well trained soldiers to boot, were arguably slim, but it could have been worse.
To be blunt, maybe this could be categorized in the realm of worse case scenarios, but; with Bokomon being a firm advocate, a little positive thinking was always welcome to the table. Less stress, after all, communicated to a longer, healthier life.
"I got my work cut out for," Agnimon jested lamely, sucking in a breath as his arms sank like anchors, earning a snort from Bokomon, who looked a little resigned with the crooked smile that tugged at his lips.
"Hey, who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."
"So...how's things?"
"Oh, you know. Now and then, here and there," the imp gestured with a tilt of his head.
Agnimon scoffed. "Where's Neamon?"
Bokomon inhaled. "I haven't seen him...in a long time, Jaune."
The lad couldn't be sure how to feel about that, but he was anything but joyful that the lethargic digimon was nowhere to be found.
"Let's go."
The trip back to the surface had to have been the height of this entire debacle.
No, it wasn't having awoken to another world and being greeted by a walking, talking tanker and a midget after almost being eviscerated by a landmine. No, it wasn't being manhandled by a giant ogre to be used as some kind of key to unlock an ancient power. No, it wasn't regaining his lost memories and re-harnessing said power to return the favor to the aforementioned ogre.
No. It was having to lean on the wall for support while being helped by said midget as they made their way up the stairwell, straight from one hell and jumping into another. His muscles were torture for every creak of his joints, but he managed at the meager pace, admittedly stumped as to how he was going to translate his state into fighting three more headaches, give or take.
When they were about halfway, Agnimon stopped, the throbbing of his legs signalling that he needed to rest. He suppressed a growl, the pain that coursed through his veins sharp, but not unbearable, provided that he didn't push past the already overstretched limits of his body. It was a miracle that he wasn't crippled, mindful that he was terribly out of practice.
Taking another step, he sensed a presence from above. He peered up to see a silhouette, the afternoon sun making it difficult to determine if they hadn't recognized it right away. The voice put Bokomon at ease, monotonous though it was, but preferred it over Orgemon's loudmouth any day.
"You are injured, Agnimon," Andromon registered, still as a statue, not bothering with Bokomon after doing a quick scan.
Agnimon stared at the cyborg. "You?"
"...All systems are running at fair efficiency," Andromon answered as he clambered down, the calm he held serene, yet eerie, either indicating that he had succeeded, or…"It is your condition that stands as more of a priority. Come."
"The village?"
He allowed the cyborg to wrap an arm around him, his own slung over the other's shoulder.
Andromon answered as they continued. "You only need to see to understand."
"I just hope this was all worth it," Agnimon grumbled.
"For a friend, it's always worth it," the cyborg shot him a smile, one that he was regrettably too tired to return, a knot in his stomach dreading what was awaiting them.
Author's Notes: There will be less frequency of posting chapters compared to my alternate account on AO3.