The trio segued out of the stairwell, no worse for wear, but the air wafted with the singe of that day's battle, filtering through Agnimon's nostrils as he roved his sights over the pathetic scene that greeted him. The town was ruined, with buildings torn asunder, burning, smashed and crumbling. Blankly, he turned to Andromon, who mirrored him outwardly, but the mon's eyes shone the anguish that pined for his home that was shared by Bokomon, the imp more apparent in weeping silently.
The survivors were huddled closely, keeping ample distance from a bound figure that was flanked on all sides by several new digimon that were small in stature, sporting pink fur, stubby hands and feet, and wielding proportionately sized spears. Sprouting from their backs were tattered, moth-like wings that were held together by pink stitching. Black beady eyes pelted the three with glances and stares, with the warrior of fire drawing in the most.
As for the large mound that was being secured by chains on the ground, upon closer inspection, it was an unconscious digimon that resembled a cross between a dog and a fox, with crimson red fur that dotted a sleek, wiry body, legs wrapped in multiple bands of black leather belts over stockings that were themselves held by black bands around the torso and hind quarters.
From the head grew an abnormally long snout, with a mouth underneath that was lined with an array of serrated teeth that looked sharp enough to tear through metal, with no doubt in the blonde's mind that the creature made due on that conjecture with the townsfolk, and from its three paws each grew long purple claws. Agnimon could only count one, meaning that the other two were likely dealt with. Or escaped.
Andromon, whose sense of immodesty could probably be measured around the chances the locals had in repelling these ruffians, wordlessly gestured Agnimon's attention to another new digimon that was talking to a few of the survivors, who were being attended to by a small army of pink, rabbit-like mons wearing long magenta scarves around their necks, white headphones and tiny red shoes. From their paws, a warm glow emanated that they hovered over the wounded.
The digimon that the battered warrior's eyes landed on was tall and imposing despite only the back facing his direction, which may have stemmed from the large blade-like wings that were tucked in disuse, body clad in metal with the exceptions of the grey sleeves and grey puffed pants. Blue flaps dangled between the legs, embroidered with regal blue and gold. Tufts of blue hair flared out of what he could make out was a helmet.
Both arms, however, was what first caught the blonde's interest. The "arms" were giant scimitars that were decorated in the same blue and gold scheme, injecting the common question as to how the being even managed without hands. Maybe he could take them off? Curiosity shortly brushed aside, the cyborg nodded curtly in confirmation, trudging onward with Agnimon in tow and Bokomon trailing behind.
They stopped a few feet away from the armored mon, but rather than wait, Andromon took the initiative to attend to Agnimon's own injuries. Carefully setting him down and languishing him against a wall, the cyborg opened a small compartment on his right arm, unraveling a black cable harnessing a small three-pronged claw with suctions at the end of each.
"Medical System."
He fixed the claw snugly on Agnimon's right arm. "Relax. I will administer the amount of code needed to repair the damages that you sustained," Andromon assured, with no more said between the pair from the procedure initiating.
Agnimon allowed himself to be severed from the world around him, left to his own thoughts as to why he had been displaced to return here. He wished that it was as simple as pinning it on the war, but from experience came a lesson learned that nothing was ever as it seemed.
He took a deep breath, released it, some relief washing over him from Andromon's ministrations. Not five minutes in, he heard heavy footsteps penetrating the barrier, pulling him away from his musings to look up at the armored digimon approach.
A good glimpse of the face revealed that the newcomer was a human digimon. Well, as human as a digimon could get. The silver helmet that he wore had a black visor in the shape of double ended arrows, with a dagger jutting out of the forehead. The helmet gave way to a human jaw in the same vein as his and Andromon's, with a much better survey of the waist beneath the breastplate, wrapped in a row of black leather belts. Was it some weird cultural trend for digimon to have belts on them? It was only too prevalent to not notice.
Agnimon had met and fought with a lot of bizarre mons in his day, but the one now standing a foot away was a deft reminder that this world could pull off all kinds of surprises.
"Greetings, Agnimon. I am Captain Slash Angemon, serving under his Lordship, Apollomon of the Olympus XII," he bowed. "I am pleased and honored to finally make your acquaintance."
Agnimon stared at him.
"Apologies," Slash Angemon relented. "It's plain to see that you need time in order to be in a more discussing mood. Please, may I offer one of the Cutemon to help in your recovery?"
Bokomon, who had been content to watch the exchange behind Andromon's back, peeked out with a constrained smile, wary of the bladed digimon's...accessories. "Uh, that would be very kind of you, Captain."
Slash Angemon smiled, motioning for one of the pink rabbits to plop forward. On the verge of using its healing hands, Agnimon blurted out hoarsely, "Why are you here?"
Slash Angemon didn't miss a beat at the inquiry clearly meant for him, "Par for the course, we had spies stationed here for years the instant after Titamon made his claim over this village, maintaining constant surveillance. Many of them, good men. Their recent report painted a contingent consisting of Orgemon and his men for what we initially thought to be the village's pound of tribute. It was a bit of a stunner when there was mention of a human becoming involved, and so, we surveyed the situation carefully before making our move. "
Agnimon hummed, "What was the holdup?"
"Had we acted recklessly, Titamon would have sent a detachment to secure the Terminal of Flame, or ensure that it wouldn't fall into enemy hands. When Orgemon and his men started the culling, it was as good an excuse as any to intervene. The success of this operation can be accredited to you and Andromon. For that, we owe you a debt of gratitude for your service."
Agnimon didn't have the energy to be outraged over that, or pretend to, choosing to discard the topic. "You have business with me?"
"Indeed," Slash Angemon obliged. "But it can wait, for there is still much to be done after this abrupt upheaval."
"Will the villagers be cared for?"
Slash Angemon stood taller. "Supply caravans and additional medical teams are already en route, and that this village is now officially under Lord Apollomon's gracious protection. Far be it for us to put them through more undeserved cruelty."
A notion that could change, to Agnimon's consternation. "Fine."
Slash Angemon bowed once more. "More will be brought to light soon, I promise you. Until then." He signaled for the Cutemon to act with a nod before turning to leave. From there, the petit digimon dutifully laid its hands on Agnimon.
"Just take it easy," Cutemon directed soothingly. "Normally, we can't rush this, but with me and Andromon together, you'll be back on your feet in no time." Agnimon grunted, unable to protest, but from the pain gradually leaving him along with his wounds closing, he didn't have much room to contest.
"Who's Apollomon?"
The Cutemon looked up from its task, blinking in brief confusion at the sudden question before beaming with excitement and pride. "Lord Apollomon? Only the strongest, bravest digimon there is! He protects us. He saves the weak and punishes those who hurt us. Nobody pushes us around with him as our leader."
The pink digimon's eyes then lit up after sizing its patient more thoroughly. "And, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you kinda look like him. Only, he's a lot taller."
Agnimon remained stone faced, but the Cutemon didn't seem to mind or notice.
"You don't say?"
"Yeah! And he's super cool to boot. All of us look up to him, want to be him! Someday, I'm gonna be strong enough to fight on the front lines. Until then, I have to amp up my training," the Cutemon pronounced with the same gleam in its eye, practically stars, until it realized that it had stopped in its treatment, snappily resuming in alarm. "Sorry."
"It's okay," Agnimon whispered, tired. And hungry, a loud rumbling resounding for all nearby to hear. Bokomon and Cutemon snickered, and even earning a coy grin from the stoic Andromon.
The warrior of fire glowered, flushed cheeks visible amidst the face paint and red he was decked in.
"Got 'ya covered, Jaune," Bokomon said, plunging a hand into his waistband to pull out a compact flip phone.
Agnimon's eyes bulged. "You had a phone on you the whole time!?"
"Yeah, why?" Bokomon wondered aloud distractedly while he was dialing. "Can't have deliveries without one. You should know that."
Agnimon's eye twitched, opened his mouth, closed it, and released a long sigh. "Never mind."
After being healed, Agnimon devolved back to Jaune, who rode on the code that Andromon administered to him until their food arrived, the severe lack of sustenance now catching up to him after what had to be days without eat and drink. Well, if he could count the hosing he got from Bokomon as refreshment.
Their order was delivered by a Burgamon on a scooter, and with the landmines having been removed by Slash Angemon's specially trained unit of Drimogemon, and the sentries destroyed or decommissioned, the food digimon no longer worried about being frisked at the usual checkpoint. The lad was initially confused at how a Burgamon managed to cover what had to be over thousands upon thousands of miles from the moon to make the trip, until Bokomon clarified.
"You don't honestly believe that the Burgamons didn't branch out after the Great Reformatting, did 'ya? They're basically the largest fast food franchise in the entire Digital World and universe put together." The imp laughed, hoisting up heaps of bags containing burgers, fries and soda that were meant for Jaune. And, a few reserved for him and Andromon.
The blonde wanted to argue that it was too much, that Bokomon didn't have to go to such a degree to feed him, bristled by the finances that such a purchase must have costed. "You know, it's funny. Turns out, I have a membership that guarantees me a 90% discount on all of my orders. And the best part is, it's indefinite even after I get scanned. Threw me for a loop the first time I heard it after giving my name, and maybe it was the same for my past lives. Makes one wonder, doesn't it?"
Jaune caught the hint. Seems like the Burgamon hadn't been quick to forget the good they did in evacuating them and their family from Lucemon's rampage. With that out of the way, he turned to the rows of bags, stamped with the logo of a moon that was parted for a patty in-between and circled by yellow rings.
He couldn't help a trickle of drool from spilling out of the side of his lips, his hunger inflamed by the thought of chowing down on the first morsel of food since his arrival. Abandoning decorum, he ripped through the first one he grabbed, tearing open the box to reveal a pristine sandwich resting within.
The juicy patty, the creamy cheese, the succulent tomatoes, the crisp lettuce, the sour condiments and pickles, all of which compacted between a sesame bun that was toasted just right. Each ingredients in mouth watering succession made his fingers tremble in anticipation, his ravenous appetite momentarily overriding his reason.
He was hungrier than he thought once his teeth sunk in, ravaging through the meal like a ravenous animal, to Bokomon and Andromon's mortification. Jaune's mouth and cheeks became caked with sauce and chunks, but showed that he cared little from reaching at another box, the failure in etiquette not even crossing his mind as he stuffed his mouth with fries next.
The taste didn't disappoint, either. It was like being back on the moon and treated to the Burgamons' fantastic cooking all over again, swearing by Remnant's gods that what he was feasting on was nothing short of ambrosia. If he ever found a way back home, he wasn't sure if he could ever look at his usual fare of fast food the same way.
Mouth engorged after downing the second, he reached for yet another, and repeated the process until his eighth course, whereupon something made him halt in the campaign of consumption.
Jaune rolled a chewed bite around his mouth, letting his taste buds acclimate to the sandwich that he shortly parted to discover that it was comprised of simpler condiments. Chopped onions, sauce, and lettuce.
"This is…" Jaune started.
"I thought you'd recognize it. 'S why I made sure to include a few," Bokomon remarked from his spot where he and Andromon were facing away from the teen to spare their own appetites, the three holing out in one of the tents set up to shelter the survivors.
Jaune went quiet, sat affixed on the half-eaten patty that was dashed with the mix of onions and sauce.
"Ren..."
"Yeah..." Bokomon said after downing a bite out of his own burger. "That happens to be their bestseller. Simple, affordable, and most importantly, delicious. Ren would...Ren would be proud...if he was here. Him and Nora. Sun, Cardin. God, I miss them already."
The blonde's eyes were glued to the sandwich, the memory of how it was first made taking him back to the most fun he had with kids his age when they weren't fighting for their lives. It was just one out of a number of moments in their fabled journey that was undeniably precious. He took another bite, electing to savor it, enabling more details of the past to fill a bit of the void as opposed to his stomach.
"So, how are they?"
Jaune didn't flinch in his reply, "Haven't seen them in years."
"Thought you'd say that."
Jaune gulped, producing a stack of napkins to wipe at his mouth. "Guess that makes two of us. Just the two of us."
Andromon chimed in, a burger held to his mouth, "From your interactions to the shift in body language, you two have history. Am I but an outside perspective?"
"You stuck your circuits out for us, Andromon," Bokomon reminded him. "You think we aren't going to be tight over that?"
"Inconsequential," Andromon dismissed. "Orgemon would not have had the edge earlier on had I not-"
"Andromon," Bokomon interrupted, "no use beating yourself up over it. You were doing what you thought you needed to do. None of us here reserve the right to judge you for that, but you proved yourself in the end. Me and Jaune wouldn't be here without you."
"No, I was not entirely upfront with my intentions," the cyborg went on. "Orgemon not only promised that he was to stop with the conscription, but to appoint me as a soldier serving under Titamon. In their stead, I was prepared to sacrifice my own life for the sake of my brethren."
"How?" Bokomon prodded, taken aback by the lengths Guardromon was willing to undertake.
"Orgemon revealed to me on the day that we parlayed..." Andromon glanced to the flap of their tent, flaring his sensors out for any eavesdroppers, then lowered the tenor of his audio. "Titamon had recently acquired a method to force his soldiers to digivolve. And not simply to Champion or Ultimate, but to Mega. Without the necessary amount of code that it would normally facilitate to reach."
"No way," Bokomon gasped, slapping both hands to his mouth at the outburst. "Really?" he whispered, with Jaune lurching closer to better hear.
Andromon nodded. "To compensate for the losses that I offered, the procedure would have had me digivolve to my most powerful Mega form."
Bokomon swallowed. "Either Hi Andromon or..."
"Mugendramon," Andromon finished.
"That's insane," Bokomon remarked, riled from hearing such a blasphemous claim. "No, that's beyond whatever madness Titamon has ever dared to commit. Forcing digimon to evolve to Mega? That's...that's never been done. Has it?"
"It is likely in the experimental phase, and that I was to be used as a guinea pig. Even as a Guardromon, I knew that there would be a risk of failure, but my options were limited. Deep down, no matter what I did, I realized that Titamon would see to it that he would bleed us dry. Of our livelihood, and our lives. Before I came to my senses, it was already too late."
"But it wasn't," Bokomon argued. "With the Spirit of Fire, both of you found the strength to evolve and fight back."
"Casualties were unavoidable," Andromon added flatly, ignoring Bokomon's point. "As wishful of it for me to have had the count lessened, what we were left with is the best scenario that I could have ever calculated."
Jaune and Bokomon exchanged glances.
The blonde let out a short breath. "Let's just finish eating."
When night came, the village would normally be brightly lit from the fires of the chimneys, in stark contrast to the campfires, lamps and floodlights that currently served as adequate substitutes, the morose atmosphere having subsided to be replaced by a despondent calm. The surviving villagers that weren't still in critical condition rested. Others loitered amongst the ruins, sporting devices that were designed to siphon raw code from the air to help rejuvenate them, a few lamenting their fate in their own way.
Jaune, Bokomon and Andromon had been resting the day's troubles away in their tent, but were now bestowed with the esteemed privilege of serving as hosts to Slash Angemon, who was content to conduct their awaited meeting in private. Two of the same winged creatures were stationed outside, ordered to restrict entry and watch for any unwanted stragglers.
Slash Angemon drank in the contents of the tent with the forbearance of a seasoned officer, but he could be forgiven to have had his expectations; that ranged from the absurd to the mundane, meandered. Where he stood opposite from between a fidgeting Bokomon and an ever stoic Andromon, sat a creature that was neither extraordinary nor unexceptional.
Average.
That was what the blonde appraising him in turn gave off, disregarding the burlap rags that he was wearing, the 'true form' of the Legendary Warrior was far from the dignified image that he visualized.
The youth was ragged and dirty like a beggar, unabashedly scratching at himself in his presence without an ounce of seemliness. It was only when they locked eyes that he observed a worldliness behind them that piddled to his own, but could rival that of his veteran soldiers.
"A human," Slash Angemon said in fascination. "I've associated with a trove of human digimon in this lifetime, but you..." he huffed through a toothy grimace. "Well, it's remarkable, quite frankly."
Jaune just stared at him in the same stone-faced manner when they first met, mouth set.
"Right. To business, then." Slash Angemon cleared his throat. "I stand before you now, Warrior of Flame, as a delegate to my Lord Apollomon, with an offer."
There was a long pause. Very long.
"Are you not going to ask? Not the least bit curious?" Slash Angemon prodded.
Jaune yawned. "Not interested."
"But you haven't even heard-"
"You want to recruit me," Jaune guessed, intoning his displeasure. "Don't beat around the bush, because I've frankly had my fill of crap for today."
And burgers. Lots and lots of burgers , Bokomon thought to himself.
"And why not?" Slash Angemon lobbied pleasantly. "The Legendary Warrior, Agnimon of Flame, serving under the banner of his majesty will no doubt resonate with his subjects. More than ever, we need the strength of those willing to fight for the liberation of those still in Titamon's thrall, and to win this war once and for all."
"I did what I did for my own reasons and mine alone," Jaune grumbled. "The last thing I definitely need right now is some hotshot pulling at my ear to get shit done for him."
Well, there was the glaring exception of his mother, but hey, he wasn't complaining.
Bokomon may have gotten an inkling as to why Jaune reacted the way he did to his phone, as his own eyes bulged at the blonde's rebuttal. The imp frantically swallowed a lump the size of Examon down his throat, an errant hand rubbing at his neck from the shine reflected off the edges of the Captain's swords under the incandescent bulb draped above.
Conversely to Slash Angemon, who neatly shrugged at the ill will lobbed by the boy. "Hear me out..."
"Jaune."
"Jaune," Slash Angemon tested the name. "Is there a 'mon' to go with that?"
The blonde's lips pursed. "Human names aren't as clear cut as a digimon's."
"I'm well aware, thank you," Slash Angemon chuckled. "Jaune, I am being nothing but transparent. My intentions are pure, and whatever my Lord may have in store for you, rest assured, I am on your side."
"Ophanimon?"
Bokomon's jaw dropped at the utterance of the name, jogging him down memory lane to when they first met the Archangel Digimon in person.
"Very perceptive of you," Slash Angemon grinned. "What gave it away?"
"Call it a hunch."
"Hm," Slash Angemon considered that for a smidgen, continuing. "Yes. I serve my Lord Apollomon faithfully with what is fully expected of my honor, but, I have my own personal loyalties outside my obligations to his Kingdom. Lady Ophanimon sends her blessings and good tidings to you Jaune Arc, and to you, Bokomon. She bids you a welcome return."
This only made Jaune's distaste worse. "Why was I called back?"
"Called?" Slash Angemon parroted cryptically. "Whatever do you mean? Are you certain that you didn't return of your own volition? Yes? Or no?"
Jaune's eyes narrowed accusingly. "You..."
"I admit, I had a bit of fun with that on my Lady's behalf," Slash Angemon said mirthfully, coughing. "But the call for your aid isn't for naught, Jaune. Lady Ophanimon fears that the Digital World is once again in crisis, and is in need of its champions."
Jaune didn't move for longer than a span of a minute, expression vacant. Both of his hands rose to his face, pressing firmly, taking deep breaths for another stretch, before dragging them down slowly to fall on the floor.
"Fuck."
"A rather apt idiom, if I do say so," Slash Angemon conceded. "Your reluctance is palpable, but-"
"But nothing!" Jaune snapped, spreading his arms out. "Which is it? Apollomon? Ophanimon? What is this, am I being prepped to become some kind of deep cover spy? A double agent?"
"A lot can change in one's absence," Slash Angemon explained for his benefit, "with the Digital World becoming more...cosmopolitan. Great cities, kingdoms, governments, progress. You must know where I'm coming from?"
More than he cared to relate, the blonde's hard silence telling. "I thought Seraphimon, Ophanimon and Cherubimon were the ruling powers," Jaune reminded him pointedly.
"The Three Great Angels may have re-established themselves as overseers, but their authority ends where sovereign nations have established their independence in the centuries building up to your reappearance."
"Politics?" groaned.
"Regrettably," the holy digimon agreed. "The defeat of Lucemon brought about the advent of the Great Reformatting, and with it, a new beginning for the world and its inhabitants. A golden opportunity to start over from scratch with the hope of not repeating the mistakes of the past," Slash Angemon elaborated.
"Wishful thinking. Digimon are creatures of habit, and that is precisely why conflict will always be an intrinsic part of life for us as a species. Those who choose to live a more pacifistic lifestyle grow and evolve naturally on their own from the raw code in the air, but the same can't be said for those that are...impatient. The other great powers have come to stoke those ambitions and grant them focus."
"Like Apollomon?" Jaune challenged.
"Lord Apollomon has his own reasons for fighting the war apart from his fellow Olympians, but they're far better than what Titamon has in mind if he ever comes out on top."
"Right," Jaune muttered skeptically.
"I was appointed by my Lord with the task of convincing you to swear fealty to him, and if that failed, broker an alliance. With terms," Slash Angemon added snugly.
"Unofficially, I am here to bring you up to speed on events that will and have already bred grave repercussions if this war is allowed to continue any further. Yes, digimon fight one another, often with the intent to gain in strength, but this tumultuous age only multiplies that equation exponentially, sequentially disrupting the balance between life and death. Primary Village, if it craves saying, is in need of constant developments just to accommodate the massive influx of newborns, while the Dark Area's influence grows ever more robust."
"The Dark Area?"
"Only the most evil digimon are judged by Anubismon to be deserving eternal torment in that vile place."
"That was Lucemon's prison."
"Not a prison, per se, but an afterlife. If you can call it that," Slash Angemon winced. "With every rebirth, there are digicores that are bound to become corrupted."
"Digicores?"
"Our souls," Andromon answered simply. "If I am not mistaken, you also are in possession of a digicore."
"I'm not a digimon," Jaune refuted, half wondering why they had been skimped on such details. "I turn into one, but-"
"You don't merely 'turn into' one," Slash Angemon corrected. "The D-Scanner configures your code to your designated Spirit, essentially becoming that digimon. The full package."
Code, DNA, Jaune wasn't big on biology, but he could wager that it wasn't that simple. "D-Scanner?"
"Were you not told the proper name of what serves as the vessels for your Spirits?" Slash Angemon asked, observing as Jaune brought out his digivice. "That which allows you to digivolve?"
Jaune threw him a look. "No. As a matter of fact, I, and the rest of my constituents, weren't told of what this thing's proper name was. We just called it a digivice and that was it."
"Oh," Slash Angemon realized. "There were some...rather faulty logistics at work there. The first ones you had were generally prototypes, incomplete models."
"Incomplete models?"
"The original plans, and the intended improvements to it were to include a complete holographic catalogue of all Digimon, with fully functioning GPS to better navigate and interact with the Digital World at large, and finally a radar to detect any hostiles in proximity. Nothing less for children of your age.
"Unfortunately, time to fully realize the design was curtailed, and we were left with little choice but to rush the deadline. Cherubimon going mad and plunging the world into chaos greatly inconvenienced us, you see. On the plus side, we were able to slap in the wireless communication at the last minute, so, you weren't totally without utility."
There was a heavy lifelessness in Jaune's eyes. "Gee, thanks."
"That which you're holding is, presently, the complete version," Slash Angemon went on, ignoring the boy's unvoiced chagrin. "Go ahead. Press any button. Have a go."
Jaune gave the D-Scanner a squeeze, his fingers stroking its all too familiar contours, a trickle of uncertainty cropping in as he flipped it over to ascertain if this was very much real. He pressed the first button to the left, and was immediately greeted by a holographic plate that was blank. He pressed it again, dispelling the plate and no more impressed than he was as a kid.
"Point it to me," Slash Angemon instructed.
Jaune did so, and tried again. The plate reappeared, only this time, an image of Slash Angemon was presented, along with information in both Vytalese and Digimoji.
Name: Slash Angemon
Type: Power
Class: Mega
Attribute: Vaccine
Profile: A mega level that commands authority over holy digimon versed in combat, it is a warrior harboring an ironclad belief in justice that rends the wicked with merciless fervor.
Special Moves:
Heaven's Ripper
Holy Espada
Jaune tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Well?"
"Okay, I gotta admit, that's," Jaune coughed, "that's pretty useful." And would have made their last journey a ton easier.
"Now, the GPS."
Jaune pressed the right button, revealing another holographic plate that displayed a map. There was a blinking arrow in the middle that indicated his location, with Slash Angemon telling him to run his finger over it to toggle. He stopped when he landed on a larger arrow that pointed down at a place labeled in Digimoji .
"Looks like you'll be needing to brush up on your Digimoji, Jaune," Bokomon suggested, huddled next to the blonde in admiring the D-Scanner's new additions.
"Yeah," Jaune said absently. "Wait, hang on. I haven't even agreed to anything."
"Sorry."
"You think you have a choice?" Slash Angemon prompted.
"I sure didn't have one the first time I was here," Jaune spat.
"Oh?" Slash Angemon ventured. "From what Lady Ophanimon recounted, you were quite enthused by the excursion from the beginning. Ecstatic, even."
"That was before I came to accept that we were basically child soldiers fighting her war," Jaune miffed bitterly. "Why were we chosen? Was it...really just at random?"
The lad chewed his lips. "I got so sick of arguing about it with Cardin, but I kept on pushing for us to fight because I convinced myself that it was the only way to get home. Sun saw through it, but he stuck with me to the end because, what else was there? We die, Lucemon wins. We live, we might go back. But...would we have been the same? Would we have still been kids after everything we went through?"
"Hence, why Lady Ophanimon thought it best to include a failsafe program into each of your old D-Scanners to wipe your memories in the event that you completed the task that was bestowed."
Jaune arched his neck to lock eyes with the armored digimon's visor. "Small favors," he snarled. "I still ended up back here, and for what? To fight in another war?"
"Not just this war," Slash Angemon muttered softly. "But for the fate of both worlds."
"Oh, here we go," Jaune sprang to his feet. "No! No, you-" he ran a hand over his hair, scratching at the tresses, jaw tightening. "You can not be telling me that the Digital World is going to invade Remnant. We're already up to our necks with the Grimm, how do you think a colossal dragon with a gun for a hand will spell out over there? Not that I have the clairvoyance to actually know that a mon like that exists, mind you, but I think I'm more than entitled enough to be making all sorts of wild guesses after all of the bullshit I had to deal with as a freaking ten year old!"
"Actually, there-"
" I was being rhetorical! " Jaune shrieked, utterly at his wits end.
"To my understanding, your people consists of warriors that push back against these 'Grimm', leaving those that can't fight holed up in the safety of walled cities," Slash Angemon provided. "Huntsman, you call them?"
"Yeah, but we aren't-" the rest of Jaune's rant sunk to his belly, replaced by ice that frosted over his veins as Slash Angemon went on.
"Now, now, it shouldn't be a shocker. Don't give me that look. Yes, Jaune Arc. We are not so ignorant to the affairs of your homeworld. How do you think Lady Ophanimon drew you and your friends here in the first place? The dimensional barriers that have separated our respective worlds have weakened overtime, and are weakening still even as we speak.
"We have not pinned down a definite cause, whether natural or intentional through the machinations of a third party, although our latest investigations into this anomaly has gathered evidence leaning towards the latter. Which, coincides with the other matter that will be born out of such circumstances.
"Remnant would, perhaps, be able to repel a disorganized invasion composed of random blips here and there, give or take a few that can stir some real carnage. Try to imagine a full scale orchestrated assault. By our estimate, your planet's stretched resources would be set ablaze to unrecoverable levels within a year, if not months. I've seen how your so-called 'huntsmen' fight, and let me put this as lightly as I possibly can. The only way for me to have been remotely impressed was if I was high as a kite and emulating their movements in nothing but my knickers. That's not even going into the absolute chaos that would erupt from the Dark Area alone."
"What about the Dark Area?" Jaune egged, hands hooked around his hips.
"The Dark Area, as I stated, not only serves as a prison, but as an afterlife," Slash Angemon resumed. "The digimon that are judged accordingly for their misdeeds are sentenced into that foreboding plane, where they would be deprived of their physical bodies, their corrupted code literal shadows of their former selves. If they were to somehow escape, either here or to Remnant, they will be made whole, realized into their corporeal forms. There are several thousand good reasons to why they were confined there, half of which applied to Lucemon alone.
"Lord Cherubimon has foreseen that if the Dark Area overloads; which it will and soon, one way or another, Yggdrasil itself will have no choice but to dump the excess to where we both know will be Remnant. That, or for a more final solution to all our problems."
"And that would be?"
"Extinction," Slash Angemon said bluntly. "Yggdrasil will have absolutely no reservations with unleashing Program X to reformat not only this world, but yours. By then, the barriers will be of little consequence, and Remnant will be caught in its influence. Won't that just be bliss?"
The ensuing quiet, now that the majority were asleep in the hours that they'd spent in their talk, held a slurry thickness of silt. Jaune held onto that quiet for what felt longer, as if fighting for what next to say.
"What can I do?"
Those present could have mistook the wind to have blown in those words right past the guards, through the flaps and brisking past their ears, and Jaune would have had the enormous weight pinning him down lifted.
"The Digital World is once again in need of its champions," Slash Angemon reiterated. "If you won't fight for us, will it be for you and yours?"
Jaune wanted to cry, scream, pull at his hair, stomp the ground in a mad dance and just run himself through the other's swords, the light it gave off flashing over his lifeless eyes proving ever so tantalizing, to just get it over with and end his suffering.
He inhaled, deeply, and let out the longest, loudest exhale, head buckling in surrender. His answer, one that he already regretted with every fiber of his being, was conveyed. His stomach boiled, a myriad of questions bubbling forth to the rim of his lips, skin breaking into a cold sweat despite the effort to weather his nerves.
"This Program X..." he swallowed some bile, anxiety interweaving with his exhaustion. "It's going to…what? Pull a hard reset? Sounds like what people meme about on the net. You're kidding, right?"
A ghost of a smile zoomed past the blonde's face, vanishing as the armored angel's somber silence washed over him.
"Please, tell me you're kidding."
Slash Angemon's mouth remained set, boring into the boy through the black lens of his visor, the air becoming thick like miasma constricting his chest, the weight sinking into Jaune's skin like knives.
"So, that's it? After everything we did, after all our hard work? After all the sacrifices we made? The shit we went through? This Yggdrasil guy's just going to make with the magic wand and poof? Including with Remnant?"
The angel digimon was infuriatingly still and quiet.
"My world isn't a fucking video game!" Jaune snapped, spittle flying.
"Neither is ours," Slash Angemon vouched, finding his voice again. "Or, are you so quick to forget?" He made a vague motion with his right arm in Andromon's direction. "In spite of the hefty resemblance, we are as much living beings as you, with our own wills, thoughts and emotions, far beyond mere constructs of data."
"Then, what is it?" Jaune asked tersely, sinking back down.
"Program X was conceived soon after the Great Reformatting," Slash Angemon began. "It is a measure that Yggdrasil adapted in order to curb a repeat of the threat that Lucemon, or those on his scale, posed. Be warned that this is highly classified information. I had to be run through the proper channels for the authorization to leak it to you and you alone."
"From the Three Great Angels?"
"That, I'm afraid, I stringently cannot disclose."
Jaune's brow furrowed, irritated.
"I have a feeling that you'll react quite...poorly, if I did tell on their identity."
"Whatever," the lad finally scoffed.
Bokomon and Andromon exchanged meaningful looks, the former quailing in fear.
"Can't your guards overhear us from outside?" Jaune asked pointedly, taking notice of the imp being shaken.
"They know when not to listen in," Slash Angemon retorted, "would save you two the trouble to do the same."
Bokomon pressed a hand to his chest, his heartbeat rattling his small frame, grateful for the leniency but far from being at ease by the knowledge of the Digital World and the human world potentially getting reformatted simultaneously. Andromon sat relinquished, the emotional side of him sharing in the smaller mon's distress. The logical side, on the other hand, filed away the information into a secure section of his memory.
"If, say, people knew about this, would it stop the war?" Jaune challenged.
Slash Angemon sighed tiredly, his mask slipping for a fraction. "I trust that you cannot presume it to be that simple"
Cutting to the chase, Jaune factored in how the entire population of Remnant would react, in spite of the Grimm.
He thought again.
And again, just to make sure.
His head fell, letting out his own sigh in defeat. Humanity at large wasn't going to start playing nice and gather around the hearth to delay the inevitable. If the riled Grimm from the mass panic wasn't going to finish them off first, he imagined good old human stupidity to do most of the work.
Hell, the safest bet was that it'd be brushed aside as nonsense, with the exception of a few doomsday loons. The notion that the world's end was to be about as sudden as flipping a switch with none the wiser was already a stretch.
That said, he had his share of experience fighting unbelievably powerful godlike beings, and maybe if he spent looking, still held the scars to prove it.
The Kingdoms wouldn't have been divided; in more ways than one, otherwise. Applying it to the digimon was a simple matter of flipping the races.
"This...Yggdrasil," Jaune started. "Who is he?"
"It," Slash Angemon corrected. "Yggdrasil is not a digimon, nor of flesh and blood."
"Then, what is it?" Jaune asked.
There was a shift in Slash Angemon's demeanor, standing taller with his head held high as if in reverence.
"...Our God."
"God?" Jaune repeated oddly after a solid minute of ruminating on the implication. "As in, the God, the one that created everything God, or is it the thunder and lightning shooting out of their hands kind of God? Am I painting enough of a vivid picture?"
"I am going to pretend that I didn't just receive a hefty earful of blasphemy," Slash Angemon muttered. "After a fashion, Yggdrasil is the intelligence behind the Digital World that serves as the lynchpin. You humans generously refer to such as the host computer, if I aim to be frank."
"What was that you said about blasphemy?"
Slash Angemon cleared his throat, although it sounded suspiciously like a grunt.
Jaune glowered. "Okay, if your so-called God is so powerful to do that, then why doesn't it just fix this world instead? Or, better yet; why in the hell didn't it take care of that asshole Lucemon in the first place?"
Slash Angemon coughed. "Yggdrasil works in ways that even we of the holiest cannot comprehend." Jaune eyed him skeptically, but didn't dwell on what was easily construed as a copout. "Lady Ophanimon pleaded, begged for this world's salvation in those dark days. The last thing she wanted was to put anyone, let alone children, through such adversity. Alas, her pleas fell on deaf ears. Had we known the gravity of Lucemon's influence, it could have been different. Not by a lot, but after Lord Cherubimon went mad, slaughtered us and abducted her, the rest fell into place."
"...In other words, Yggdrasil doesn't do jack?"
Slash Angemon blatantly grunted at that, much louder than the first.
Jaune refrained from additional blaspheming while he was ahead. "Then, why us?"
It was loaded than before, and Slash Angemon caught on it, but seemed keen to deflect. "You should know this. Lady Ophanimon, with what little power she mustered in her imprisonment, broadcasted a signal to-"
"Tell me the truth," Jaune interrupted.
Slash Angemon's head tilted. "The truth?"
"Why us?" the blonde persisted. "You could have picked anyone."
"Indeed," Slash Angemon admitted. "You believe there to be a deeper meaning behind it?"
Jaune felt the angel's brow aimed at him. "I…"
"Would it put you at ease if it did?" Slash Angemon followed. "Is that what you want? If I refuse to tell you what may or may not be there, will it change anything?"
"…"
Slash Angemon seemed to mull for one swift moment at the boy's silence. "In my years of service, and by my faith, I once believed that nothing in this world was by chance, that there must be a destiny reserved for each of us, but that was so long ago when I was still an Angemon, and we're veering slightly off.
"We could have ended up with anyone unscrupulous that would have strayed from the righteous path and fallen into the darkness. So, how is it that you five managed to avoid corruption and complete your mission?"
Jaune mouth filled with cotton, lacking a clear answer.
"You were children vulnerable to a slew of temptations – betrayal and abandonment out of fear, anger, hunger, homesickness. Can you or any of your lot proclaim to have never succumbed to that pit?"
The lad reached for a retort, that it was their friendship that held them together through thick and thin. That even now, there was a pit in his stomach that held a longing to meet up and reconnect with them.
Then, a rivulet of certain memories seeped from a recess of his subconscious.
"You're gonna get us all killed. I hate this, and I hate you for getting us into this mess. I'm better off on my own."
"Until...mom and dad took me in, you don't know what it was like for me, Jaune, to be alone, to not have a warm home, hardly anything to eat. I wasn't like Sun. And then, when I finally had everything I ever wanted, Ren and I end up here. And now...now...we might never see them again."
"Nora's been acting...distant, lately. Not to me, much. But, I can tell."
"...It can only get worse from here."
Slash Angemon seemed to read into Jaune's meditation, coughing loud enough to arrest the three's attention, snapping the lad out of his trance.
"Well, now that we've hashed out the details, it's late, and I have other places that I need to be – duty and whatnot."
Slash Angemon whirled on his heel, parting the flap halfway before stopping to spare them one last glance over his shoulder.
"Oh, and do think about my offer," that Slash Angemon needn't repeat for the blonde's benefit. "If you wish to be on your own for the time being, all fine and good, be my guest. But, do realize that there won't be a shortage of others vying for your patronage. On that end, I do sincerely hope that we meet in less...hectic circumstances when the opportunity presents itself."
Jaune postulated that there was further that needed to be said, but from the tone of the angel's voice, and the odd inflection he warily caught around the 'duty' part, it was better to let it be.
Once outside, Slash Angemon ordered his guards to cover the west border of the town. They did as ordered, leaving him to take flight. Once he reached a height where he was camouflaged, a blank, holographic screen came to life beside his face, remotely typing his message.
"I'll take it from here."
"Okay."
"The usual amount has been wired into your encrypted account," he assured as he was patched to the main line.
"The operation was a success."
"Agnimon?"
"He needs time."
"Lord Apollomon will take that as a no."
"People can change their minds."
"What of the prisoner?"
"Packaged and ready for transport in the morn."
"Affirmative. Report back to base."
"Roger."
A simple tactic, and fragile to maintain, with definitely those who suspected, but either couldn't prove his duplicity, or chose to leave him dig his own hole. Least of all, Apollomon, who he had good reason to assume knew, but didn't care from how free he was still able to go about. For how long, was the question.
Elsewhere…
The Gazimon scrounged through the dirt, rending one of his claws from grazing against a deposit. Pain didn't register, the adrenaline rush of his trek through miles under rocky desert testing his injured and spent body for the remainder of his journey to one of their outposts.
His comm had been lost in the crossfire, and he needed to radio in an urgent report that the mission went sideways the moment Orgemon and Unit 76 returned to the cavern. Not half an hour in scanning more of the Guardromon, who actually put up enough of a fight than he expected, a flash blitzed past his line of sight, and next he knew, Unit 35 was scanned.
It took him a fraction of a second to realize that a new player had entered the fray. He rounded on whoever it was, ready to strike as a Cerberumon, an Ultimate bent on incinerating the schmoe that thought they could pull a fast one.
And how fast, it was.
Before he knew it, he was forcefully devolved to Rookie, nursing a sleek cut on his shoulder. It wasn't deep, owing to his quick reflexes. It shouldn't have been possible; the regenerative properties of his armor guaranteeing that nothing short of an exceptionally powerful or holy attack could land so much as a scratch on him. Then he glimpsed up and profiled the assailant.
"Oh."
Slash Angemon.
Slash "losing your bowels on sight" Angemon, the sheen off the blade in his direction causing a small puddle to form under his haunches. He'd have been done for had Unit 28 not idiotically engaged the Mega, providing sufficient distraction.
One of Apollomon's big guns dropping in on their fun so unexpectedly did not go past simple deduction, pointing to a mutual pursuit of the Spirit. Claiming the town was merely icing on the cake, which was bad, but compared to breaking in the report to Titamon, he might as well take the necessary steps to deleting his own code. If he could desert, he'd hightail it out to the other side of the Digital World.
The spies spread out that hunted down deserters on the side made him uncertain. He'd evade them for long, but it was a matter of eventuality. There wouldn't be any peace for him, and offering asylum to rogues became a touchy subject for other countries after too many catastrophes, rooted from Titamon's insanely unethical and ruthless tactics.
The only card that he had going for him was his status as an elite soldier. If there was one thing that Titamon was known for in their ranks aside from his murderous bloodlust, it was his staunch pragmatism. Nothing went by him in terms of resources and manpower, and only the truly incompetent and weak were discarded. Those that were deemed worthy of redemption often had a brand spanking new appreciation for life; their own to be precise, and made good on their motivation to do whatever it took to stay under their lord's good graces.
Now, if he could only stop the frantic drumming of his heart and steel his nerves, he'd sell it like a pro.
He scratched at his nose, sniffing that he was nearing the surface, the soil cool and moist to the touch - it was raining. A few inches of wriggling, he stopped at a junction that he shoved open with a claw and clambered out of the hole to drop like a log on the ground. He had emerged from a small hill, droplets of rain patting his frail body and washing some of the dirt that clung to his fur, caking into mud. He didn't even have the energy to shake off the excess, his grip on consciousness slipping.
Perpendicular to his position stood a large cabin, opaque under a thick blanket of fog. The lights were on, and from the door exited a small figure no bigger than him, but wider and shaped like an egg. A pair of green stubby legs with red toe claws jutted out of cracks at the bottom, and in the middle was a cracked opening that gave way to the creature's beady yellow eyes that scoped out the pup lying flat on his stomach.
The Gazimon's perception swayed, inconvenienced further by the rain growing in intensity as he tried to get a good glimpse of the approaching mon, and was immediately seized by a sense of danger when he did. The sensation fleeted, eyelids turning into lead.
The egg-like mon tilted its form, closely examining the crumpled Rookie before it in curiosity. A shadowy limb slithered out of the crack at the front to hook around the Gazimon's waist, lifting the pup overhead with strength unusual for its size. Trotting back, a sign nailed above the door, bore letters in Digimoji that spelled "Digitama-go" - a restaurant.
"Meh, I don't get that many customers anyway."
Terminal of Flame...
The desert night air caressed Jaune's cheek, soothing rather than biting - well, he was shivering quite a bit - but didn't feel the need to retreat to their tent, unable to get a wink of sleep. He was sitting curled by the border, near the spot that Bokomon and he had met, his dull eyes staring forlornly at the vast expanse of land.
His mind was slurry with thoughts of the past few days, bombarded with so much in so little time. He wondered what manner of sick grudge fate had over him, the twisted monster that he was in a past life for this karma.
He released a foggy breath as he reflected properly on the battle, contemplating the severe lack of qualm from ending a life after years of being absent for so long, even with the added insurance the digimon held of being reborn. The first he ever battled and scanned was a Cerberumon, who would have driven him and the others into an early grave in the Dark Area had he not acted.
He did not harbor the clarity to make of the situation that day, the events progressing so quickly that he was left without breath after his very first real fight. All he knew was upon digivolving, it felt like he had become someone else – someone who knew how to throw a punch, a kick, and to spin in a great fiery tornado – and at the tender age of 10, he had taken the life of another sentient being.
From thereon, many came after – so many. Most deserved it, while some, he repressed thinking about. For the sake of honesty, he was tired of fighting, the rush from Orgemon being a spur of the moment, and because the guy was a massive jackass.
"You were children vulnerable to a slew of temptations – betrayal and abandonment out of fear, anger, hunger, homesickness. Can you or any of your lot proclaim to have never succumbed to that pit?"
Jaune grimaced, feeling a chuckle flailing to spill from his throat. His jaw tightened, eyes snapping shut with a shake of his head.
Pouring over more of his old memories revealed a very different image of what he initially visualized as the brave and supportive leader; not perfect, but he was nowhere near the idealized front that later down the line built itself into a mask.
Deep down, he was a deluded kid with selfish aspirations juxtaposed with mild delusions of grandeur, to live out a power fantasy in a world where he gained might and strength beyond his wildest dreams, with friends that he could call his own. No longer was he a nobody, an outcast, an awkward wallflower whose social life was close to nonexistent.
At long last, he was a hero of justice.
Cruel reality did not see it his way.
He regularly clashed with Cardin, who was stubborn and abrasive, coupled with an arrogant bravado that served as his own mask. Ren and Nora prioritized each other over the team, at one point separating due to a particularly heated dispute. Sun was less difficult, but that may have been from apathy than any genuine bond they formed. For irony, despite the fountain of jokes, wisecracks and pranks that he was, the monkey faunus was arguably the most mature, next to Ren.
Besides Bokomon and Neamon as their guides, there were other digimon that would help them, but were few and far in-between from those that offered the opposite. They were intelligent creatures on par with humans, above Grimm. Some could be reasoned with, whereas others wanted to rob them, take their Spirits or code; oftentimes all three, with nary a regard for them being children.
Needless to say, they were ill prepared to trek across a new and alien world, dotted with bizarre geography composed of barren wastelands, lush forests, snowy tundra and abandoned cities, barring friendly settlements they lucked on that were kind enough to spare supplies. Food and water were finite; however, having to rely on what they had on hand to scrape and scavenge, with agonizing days without that left them starving and desperate.
So desperate that they stole, begged, fought and killed to keep themselves alive. They weren't children anymore.
Let alone, heroes.
Bokomon stood behind him, for how long, he didn't deem to keep track, the imp too occupied by his scalp to utter a word.
"What?"
It was a weak, brittle thing.
"Can't sleep?" the smaller digimon guessed.
Jaune buckled to a second breeze that went past, shivering his response in quick breaths, whether he meant to or not.
Bokomon rubbed the back of his head. "I don't suppose you mind making room for one more?"
Silence.
He sighed, striding forward to plop down next to the blonde. Beady eyes craned upward to admire the twinkling stars that were normally obscured by the town lights, finding irony that they would shine in their full splendor amidst such melancholy, an unsettling knot forming in his belly.
"Well, here we are," the imp started, "again."
A passing breeze spoke in the boy's stead.
He stole a glance from the lad. "You feelin' any better?"
Jaune's shoulders sunk, hunching into a ball.
Bokomon's lips pursed. "I-"
"No."
"Okay, you-"
"No."
"But I-"
"No, no, no, no," Jaune repeated, louder after each tally, lips peeled. "No!"
"Okay, okay," Bokomon sputtered, throwing his hands forward. "I was just-"
"S-Sorry," Jaune muttered pitifully in remorse, sinking further into himself. "I'm sorry."
"Hey, no problem," Bokomon said in commiseration, pasting on a crooked grin. "It's natural to be stressed, man. Look at me, a bundle of nerves ready to break out at the slightest. You just came back, so, no use jumping into action right off the bat. I mean, stopping a war and preventing Armageddon? Been there, done that. You and the guys did stop Lucemon, after all, and believe it or not, digimon today are raised on so many stories about our exploits. We're talking myths and legends status here. You're practically folk heroes. "
Jaune groaned.
"Wrong thing to say?"
"Everything's wrong," Jaune bemoaned, visibly bereaved. "This is fucked up."
"No arguments there," Bokomon jibed dismally. "How the hell they expect you to do all that is insane. Not unless we let Program X just do its thing and call it a millennia or so. We had a pretty good run, right?"
"Please, don't," Jaune groused, palming his face.
"Cutting it out, got it," Bokomon said brusquely. "Real talk; what's the plan?"
"There is no plan," the blonde spelled out bluntly. "How you think there even is one should tell me that you're delusional, or an idiot. Both!"
"I'm just-" Bokomon stopped short to glower at the teen. "You know what? This is exactly the kind of whining I got sick of hearing from you brats the first time around. It wasn't a blast sitting through back then, and it really doesn't sound any better now. You're, like, what, 17? I'm 42. You don't get to tell me shit unless you've gone through the mother of all midlife crises like I have. Fuck you!"
They held each other's gazes for an intense few seconds, and then broke into fits of laughter at the absurdity, wiping away the tears in their eyes.
"This," Jaune snorted between chortles. "This can't possibly work."
"Yeah," Bokomon fell on his back, the blonde following behind. They feasted on the stars, welcoming the small diversion, "could be worse."
They exchanged small glances, before giving in to another round.
"I'm glad I got to see you again," Jaune expressed after calming down.
"Likewise," Bokomon returned.
"It was one hell of an adventure," Jaune mused softly. "Too bad most of it sucked."
"I'm not so sure about that," Bokomon refuted. "Do you miss them?"
"Not really."
"Don't lie."
"They definitely don't miss me much."
"That's because they don't remember, like you didn't."
"If they did, they'll probably want to kick my ass," Jaune argued. "No. This isn't going to work. I tried it, and I messed it up."
"Yep, you kinda did," Bokomon agreed, earning a look from the blonde. "But it wasn't a total disaster. Think hard on it. What else do you remember?"
"That they all hated my guts in the end?"
"Try again," Bokomon wagged a claw, his other arm on his stomach.
Jaune pressed both palms on his face, "This is bullshit."
"Just try," Bokomon insisted. "It's not as bad…okay, it's pretty bad, but not the 'they'll want to murder you' kind of bad. Just-Just try, okay?"
Jaune took a deep, deep breath, the cold air aggravating his throat, but he went and did as told.
Of course it wasn't all bad, but the good went overshadowed by his mistakes. He struggled to be a leader, but it wasn't as simple as ordering people around or being the strongest there was.
He and Cardin would wrestle to see who the top dog was, or spar in order to help grow in skill.
A leader would keep their team safe and well fed, a provider as much as a fighter.
Ren knew enough about cooking that he'd prepare meals worth to die for, and Nora shared what food she could. She didn't have to, but empathetically knew what it was like to go hungry.
Morale was only as good as the leader standing as a beacon, their light in the dark.
Sun would make them laugh, especially when they were down, often at Cardin's expense, but they each had a turn in falling prey to one of his trademark pranks.
But, mostly Cardin.
All of them had been better and unique in each their own way, filling gaps in their dynamic that he lacked. What use had he been to any of them?
Skimming, there were fragments that came to the fore.
Cardin…
"Tch, don't get mushy. I only came back because I'm the one difference that'll make or break it for you losers. You'd be nothing without me. And…I can't really go on my own. Common sense tells me it's safer with numbers on your side. B-But, uh, once I hook up with some tougher guys, it'll be adios for good. You hear me?"
Nora…
"I'm sorry for yelling at you, and for running away. I just wanted so badly to go home. If you and everyone hadn't found us, I…I would have lost Ren. You guys always do everything you can for me, and I'm…always a burden. Well…not anymore. I'm going to try. I may not be now, but…I'm going to try and get stronger. Next time they show their ugly faces, I'll-I'll…I'll break their legs!"
Ren…
"Don't give up, because I haven't."
Sun…
"We didn't come this far for nothing. We can't give up, Jaune. If we fall here, Remnant will be next. Nobody would stand a chance against him there. We can't let that happen. So, we doing this, or what? I'm ready when you are."
oOo
"All of us, together."
Jaune's eyes opened, pushing to sit back upright.
"Well?" Bokomon asked, eyes still glued to the sky.
The blonde teen blinked to clear the creeping drowsiness, before looking down at the imp.
"Make a guy feel worse, why don't 'ya?"
Bokomon shrugged his shoulders, arms pillowing his head.
"You're welcome."