13

Battle in the Crypt

"Before I was able to struggle or resist he had me up against the black altar, and we fought knee-deep in gleaming bones. I screamed until his hands grasped my throat and choked me. But even as I fought him, my brain battled against its own fears." – Robert Bloch, "The Brood of Bubastis"

"Silver Blaze!"

Mephismon, formerly stationary, dodged Pegasmon's beam, landing beside the fire.

"Gold Rush!"

Digmon's drills detached themselves from his body and shot towards the enemy, but before they had hit anything Mephismon raised his hand and blew them from the air like leaves with waves of purple force.

"We need to Jogress," Pegasmon said. "Somehow we need to destroy those Dark Towers."

"Too bad," the lead Witchmon said. "We're here to make sure that doesn't happen."

Mephismon leaped forward, clearing the fire, his large hands open. He caught both Chosen Digimon around the neck, tossing Digmon to the side and into one of the stone walls and slamming Pegasmon to the floor.

"I will finish what Apocalymon could not!" he exclaimed, moving his free arm so that his palm faced the Chosen Children. Pegasmon raised his head. His white mane stiffened as he looked up at Mephismon.

"Needle Rain!" Pegasmon's needle-like hairs showered the evil Digimon, but bounced off harmlessly. Mephismon turned his attention from the children to the Digimon on the floor. One of his hands balled into a fist and he brought it savagely down on Pegasmon's neck. The floor cracked beneath the downed Digimon's body, and Pegasmon lay still.

"Pegasmon!" Takeru shouted in anguish. Mephismon must be at least at the Perfect level. Only Shakkoumon would have the power to stand up to him.

Digmon was working on this, but a Witchmon stood by each of the Dark Towers, and they had no intention of failing in their duties this time.

"Aquari Pressure!" one of the witches cried. The floor beneath Digmon erupted in a pillar of water. Caught off guard, he was blasted upwards by the geyser, struck the wall of the domed ceiling and fell back down again as the water subsided. The witches' laughter rang out at the sight.

Iori had seen what happened to his friend, and stepped forward, hands clenched into fists, unsure of what to do. "You can do it, Digmon."

Mephismon turned when he heard the boy's voice, and raised his hand once more. Takeru looked at his motionless partner, then towards Iori. He began to move towards the younger boy, though he knew it was too late.

"Iori-kun, behind you!"

Iori turned and threw his hands up to shield his face, but did not have time to move.

"Black Sabbath!" The shadows of the crypt grew darker about Mephismon's upraised hand, and rushed forward. Takeru was certain he was about to see his friend die. There would be no egg to take care of this time. He cried out wordlessly. There was an explosion of purple where Iori stood. Chips of stone flew up in every direction from the shattered floor. Gradually the darkness cleared.

Armadimon lay there upon the decimated stone tiles. Iori had been thrown aside at the last moment, but he did not move, and Takeru wondered, teary-eyed, if Digmon's sacrifice had come soon enough. The Witchmon had fallen silent, and had walked unconsciously forward so that they stood side by side. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness, and their faces bore an identical expression of frozen, Cheshire-cat grins. Slowly, Mephismon turned back towards Takeru.

"Now—" he began to rasp, and then stopped. Abruptly he swung his head about, looking all over the room in search of something. His beady orange eyes fixed on a point above him. Takeru, who had no doubt that the battle was over, apathetically turned his gaze in the same direction. What he saw made him gasp with delight.

Pegasmon hovered over the room. His head hung heavily downwards, but his wings were lifted high, and in them there twinkled myriad stars. The sight might have been a portrait of Hope itself. "Shooting…Star."

The Witchmon looked up just as the meteorites began to fall. They lifted their hands to guard, but it was not enough. The projectiles fell amongst the group, and the four red-clad witches disintegrated into data and vanished. The leader staggered for a few moments before falling, her dress, gloves, and hat torn and her face bruised. The five Dark Towers were hit as well; large cracks appeared in places and chunks fell from their surface.

"Enough of this stupidity!" Mephismon shouted. He opened his hands wide at his sides, and his bat-wings extended to their full reach. Purple energy swirled around him. "Black Cloud!" Suddenly the air among the Dark Towers was thick, full of swirling darkness.

Pegasmon was caught amidst it, and screamed as his flesh began to burn. He was reminded of the Witchmon's Poison Storm, but this was worse. The fog was everywhere, burning even the insides of his throat as he inhaled. He wheeled in midair and dropped like a paper airplane to the floor near Takeru, just outside the corrosive cloud. Steam poured off of his body even as he reverted to Patamon.

Mephismon jumped into the air and floated into the middle of the deadly cloud, immune to its effects. Below him the fire had sunk still lower. The room was just bright enough for shadowy outlines to be made out, but nothing more.

"I am Mephismon!" the demonic Digimon yelled. The words reverberated off the walls of the crypt. "I am heir to Apocalymon, and I have no purpose but to destroy the purpose of others! You all die here!" He swept his hands about in the air, and Takeru was blown off his feet to join the other four beings on the floor.

Takeru opened his eyes and tried to see through the darkness and the evil wind. The fire had gone out entirely. And yet, somehow, he could see. The space around him glowed dimly but perceptibly, and he could see another pool of light surrounding the form of Iori near one of the walls. His head clearing, he realized what it must be and felt for his Digivice. The D-3's screen was glowing.

He thought about what it might mean. The eight Digivices had sealed Apocalymon's self-destructive explosion four years ago. Could their two D-3s, his and Iori's, already shown to be more powerful than the original Digivices, possibly aid in the destruction of this last remnant of the abomination that was Apocalymon?

"Still alive!?" Mephismon snarled. Takeru got shakily to his feet. He looked to Patamon. Yes, Patamon was still alive, or he would not still be laying there. Turning his head, Takeru saw that Armadimon apparently still lived too. Iori…?

Iori groaned softly.

"Iori-kun!" Takeru cried out in joy.

Iori slowly forced himself to focus. The light of the D-3 surrounded him, and as he slowly moved the Digivice to his hand, that light touched the unconscious form of his partner, who also stirred. Iori stood. He could see Takeru standing near the room's entrance, the older boy's face luminous with a smile. Takeru turned to face Mephismon, and the smile was replaced by grim determination.

"You don't belong in this world," Takeru said. Patamon opened his eyes at his partner's voice and got to his hind feet. "The Dark Towers don't work anymore. Mephismon, we're going to finish this here!" Light flooded the chamber. As they had upon entering the room, the boys lifted their Digivices.

"Armadimon, Evolve!...Ankylomon!"

"Patamon, Evolve!...Angemon!"

"Ankylomon!"

"Angemon!"

"Jogress Evolve!...Shakkoumon!"