Chapter 2: The return
Impmon had walked alone in the desert for hours. Barbamon had been destroyed and he no longer had a mission to fulfill. The little black Digimon was in search of the Society from where his late master had come. The events in the sanctuary were still vivid in his mind just as the discovery he had made about his true identity. In the silence of the night, Impmon heard a strange noise.
"Pi. Pi. Pi."
The black creature turned around and saw a Digimon who looked like a pink ball with wings. The strange being waved his free hand – the one that was not holding a little spear - to Impmon and introduced himself.
"I am Piximon, a friend of your Master."
"You knew Master Taomon?" Impmon was startled by that information. "Are you from the Society?"
"I'm quite important there." Piximon replied, studying the black Digimon with attention. "You could say I work on the field. I used to correspond with Taomon oftenly."
"I'm sorry to tell you this…" Impmon was hesitant, "… but Master Taomon died."
"I know that." Piximon's voice had a grave tone and he stared sadly at the horizon for a couple of seconds. "I have been keeping an eye on you from the distance. I know everything that happened."
Piximon walked slowly toward Impmon, brandishing his small spear. "I also know who you really are."
Impmon barely had time to jump and avoid the attack, but the explosion of the pixi bomb sent him flying anyway. Hurt, he couldn't manage to ask anything and stayed lying on the sand, defenseless. Piximon didn't seem especially happy about his attempt to kill Impmon.
"I didn't want to do this to my friend's student. But I can't let a Demon Lord walk away."
"I'm not Beelzemon anymore!" The black Digimon cried in despair. "I can't even remember being that monster! Please, believe me!"
"I'm sorry." Piximon apologized as he prepared another attack. Impmon was in panic.
This can't end like this! I haven't gone through all that just to die pointlessly here! I refuse to die here!
The Virus type Digimon had a vision, or was it a memory? He saw himself, Impmon, tied to a pole in the ocean. The waves were about to cover his head. He had already given up on his struggle and closed his eyes, waiting for death to come to get him. He then felt a presence close to his body and opened his eyes once again. Shocked, the Digimon saw a child angel floating in his front, cross-legged, a few centimeters above the water. He had a gentle smile.
"Those merciless Vaccine and Data put you in this situation, didn't they? Killing because of an attribute must be the ultimate act of ignorance." The angel spoke in a disgusted tone.
"You look like the type of Digimon who did this to me!" Impmon spitted angrily. "What do you want? Did you come here to entertain yourself, you sick bastard?"
"I'm here to save you." The angel said with benevolence. "I've done this before with others in your situation. They are my comrades now. Would you like to work with me?"
"Why would I agree to work with a Vaccine or whatever you are? I have a little bit of pride, you know?"
"I understand pride better than anyone." The angel answered, beaming. "I can give you great power, Impmon. A power that will never leave you, for you to use as you please."
Power? Impmon couldn't hide his deepest desire. If he had power, he wouldn't have been defeated and put in that pole to die. He could hunt the heartless monsters that did that to him. He could have revenge on every Data and Vaccine Digimon in that world.
"I can grant you immense power, Impmon." The child angel caressed the Virus's face with delicacy. "Enough power to destroy and kill to your heart's content. Do you want that?"
"Yes!" Impmon spoke with fierce determination irradiating from his eyes. "Give me power!"
Piximon was hit by lightning and forced to retrocede a few steps. In deep horror, he saw a Wizarmon getting up from the sand. He… evolved!
The now mage Data Digimon was trembling. This power… this is…
"You are now my slaughter machine"
"NO! NO! I DON'T WANT THIS! I DON'T WANT TO BE THAT AGAIN!" Wizarmon screamed, holding his head and falling to his knees. "Master Taomon… help me… someone… HELP ME!"
I must finish this now! Piximon thought. However, Wizarmon suddenly fell unconscious on the sand. Behind him, there was someone wearing a white mask completely hiding his body in large black clothes, boots, gloves, coat with a hood and scarf. The fairy Digimon didn't show surprise.
"I haven't seen you in a long time. What are you doing here?" Piximon questioned.
"I've just erased his memory completely. Wizarmon won't be a problem for you or that Society." The masked man replied without emotion.
"Why are you helping him?" Piximon asked, finding the other's actions suspicious.
"Don't worry; he'll die soon in the real world. I am simply assuring that Beelzemon will never be born again."
"Do you really think I'm going to trust you?" Piximon asked in a deep serious tone.
"Do you think you can stop me?" The other made sure to sound threatening.
The two of them studied each other for several minutes, without making any move.
"If you stay in this dangerous path, kid, you will just hurt yourself even more." Piximon adviced; he had sadness in his voice.
"I'm no longer a kid. You better refer to me as Merchant. But no need for you to worry; I can't hurt myself anymore. There's nothing left in me that isn't already broken."
When Wizarmon woke up, he was alone and had no memory about whom he was. He didn't have anywhere to go, so the mage walked aimlessly until he collapsed from thirst and fatigue. He would have died if a cat Digimon hadn't appeared in his front and offered him a bowl of water.
Four years later.
Wizardmon opened his eyes and stood up in a jump. He was on the roof of Fuji TV. He knew he had died there. He looked at his body, perplexed, and touched it cautiously. He also noticed he was carrying his magic staff in the right hand. I'm alive. How can I be alive? Digimon who die in the real world are not supposed to ever be reborn. I don't think I can call this being reborn. I came back as Wizarmon, it's more like a resurrection. I don't understand what's happening.
"I brought you back to life." A male voice announced. Wizarmon turned his head to the right and saw what looked like a grown man wearing a mask and black clothes covering his entire body. "I am the Merchant. Does the name ring a bell?"
"Should it?" Wizarmon questioned.
"Well, I took your memories away from you, then it's expected that you don't remember me." The Merchant explained calmly, not missing the astonished look in the mage's eyes.
"My memories? You mean my memories from before I met Tailmon?! You took them from me? Why?" Wizarmon was getting tense.
"Don't worry, I'm going to return them to you. First, though, I would like to make a deal." The Merchant got closer to Wizarmon.
"I don't believe I can trust you." The Data Digimon replied.
"How ungrateful of you." The Merchant accused in a fake offended tone. "I'm the one who brought you back to life!"
"I'm knowledgeable of magic enough to know that to bring a Digimon who died in the real world back to life is a crime against nature! Someone who does this cannot be trusted!" Wizarmon felt anger and disgust shaking his body.
"How do you know these things?" The man in black questioned, faking curiosity. He knew the answer for that question.
"I… don't know." Wizarmon now was feeling extremely uncomfortable. How on Earth do I know this? I don't remember learning it during the time I spent with Tailmon. Could it be from before that?
"It's a good offer the one I have for you. You can meet your feline friend and help her as many times as you want in any way you want. I have no interest in fighting the so-called chosen children. Once I give your memories back, you can share as much information as you like. In exchange, you'll have to do a few tasks for me." The stranger let a bit of enthusiasm show in his voice. "I suggest you make your choice quickly. Currently, your friend is in danger and a little help from you would be welcomed."
"Tailmon is in danger?" Wizarmon trembled in fear and concern. "What's happening? How can I help her?"
"Once you remember your past, you'll find a way." The Merchant extended his arm to touch Wizarmon's forehead. "Do we have an agreement?"
Unable to find another solution for the situation, Wizarmon shook his head, whispering 'yes.' And then he remembered everything.
The strong scent of blood.
The fire.
The desperate screams of those who begged for their lives.
And above all there was that angelic voice that guided him every day.
"You are now my slaughter machine"
To which he always responded with pride.
"Yes, Lucemon-sama."
The wound in Wizarmon's heart would never heal, now that he remembered he had been the Demon Lord of Gluttony. No matter how many tears escaped from his eyes, his sins would never be washed away.
