112

Beginning of the End

"'And if a god may fear, it seemed that there was fear upon the face of Dorozhand, and he seized me by the hand and led me back along the paths of Time that I might not see THE END.'" – Lord Dunsany, "Of How Imbaun Became High Prophet in Aradec of All the Gods save One"

Panimon didn't wait for the Grey Sword to be put to use. One of his lightning fast punches shot at Omegamon's face, but his opponent's right arm was just barely fast enough to block in time. The sound of strange flesh hitting metal echoed down the devastated street – Panimon's attack had been stopped.

"Interesting…"

The fist pulled back and re-launched itself, brimming with dark lightning. Again Omegamon stopped it, though not without losing some ground. The next moment he was on the offensive, his right arm a battering ram that forced his enemy back, away from the Chosen Children. As Panimon leapt clear the left arm went into motion, and the point of the Grey Sword scraped across his broad chest, scoring a deep groove in the organic breastplate and drawing a rumbling growl of pain. At long last the evil creature had been truly hurt.

"Omegamon! Be careful with Garuru Cannon! We don't want to do more damage," Yamato shouted, smiling fiercely in spite of his warning.

"Night Gaunt!" Panimon roared, the glowing fingers of one hand lashing out at full extension. Omegamon deftly blocked with the Grey Sword, and the whip-like digits tangled themselves around the weapon, causing violet electricity to run along its length. Then Panimon's other hand swept out, and its fingers twined about Omegamon's midsection. The next instant Omegamon's body was limned in sparks of purple.

Silent until now, his voice was heard in a cry of pain. Even at that moment, however, his left arm was straining against his enemy's grip, and with a last powerful yank the Grey Sword was free, and the severed ends of Panimon's fingers fell to the ground, where they melted into oily black vapor and vanished. There was a hoarse roar of outrage, and Panimon let go of Omegamon's body as the fingers of his left hand retracted. But immediately that hand struck out again as a huge fist. It smashed into Omegamon's face with a flash of blinding purple, and the knight Digimon staggered backward.

While he had dominated the flow of battle, Panimon had continually taunted his opponents in his animalistic voice. Now, wounded, he turned deadly serious. Casting aside his meagre traces of anthropomorphism he came at his enemy with the single-minded ferociousness of a true beast. With a growl and a flap of his wings he leapt high in the air and pounced upon Omegamon.

One of Panimon's feet crashed against the shield on Omegamon's left shoulder, forcing him down to one knee. Feet back on the ground, Panimon's hammer hands went to work, raining Vulcan-like blows on his stunned opponent, scattering lightning in all directions. But Omegamon managed to raise his right arm, and by some miracle the jaws of MetalGarurumon's head closed on Panimon's furry wrist, arresting it.

Panimon might soon have torn free, but Omegamon's other arm, into which the Grey Sword had retracted, swung up and delivered an uppercut to his bearded chin. There was a noise, harsh and metallic – and the Grey Sword had pierced through Panimon's snout.

For several seconds everything was still and silent. Panimon coughed. Thick black blood oozed out the side of his mouth. There was no movement of the jowls, but those present again heard the goat thing's hideous voice.

"This… is nothing. I… am… a god."

Omegamon kicked off the ground, his cape trailing behind him, lifting his enemy into the air. Above the tops of the nearby buildings they flew. Panimon wrenched his left arm free, and both of his misshapen hands closed in to grapple with his opponent. But before he could come to grips with Omegamon, the MetalGarurumon head had opened wide, and the Garuru Cannon spoke.

Panimon was blown heavenward, hit with blast after blast. He vanished in a cloud of smoke… But then it cleared, and he was plunging down towards Omegamon. Heavily damaged, wings tattered, he still roared in defiance, his glowing paws still sought their target.

"You," Omegamon said as red light suffused the Grey Sword, "Are no god. Omega Blast!"

The Grey Sword sliced through the air, and Panimon was swallowed up in a titanic explosion. In its wake there was no trace of him.

Omegamon sank slowly to street level. As his feet touched down his body disappeared in light, and soon Agumon and Gabumon lay where he had been, panting with exhaustion.

The IceDevimon who had notified Demon of the Deep One's anomalous visit to Leng had decided to oversee the investigation itself. At the moment it stood hidden from casual view in one of the craggy valleys that characterized the region. From somewhere above it came the flapping of wings, and in another moment a Devidramon had landed, one of several that the IceDevimon had dispatched to gather information.

"What do you have to report?" the IceDevimon asked.

"We caught one of the Parasimon that lives here," the Devidramon growled. "It said that some of them were sent to the monastery to torture prisoners there."

"Get to the point."

"The prisoners are humans. We thought you should know."

There were a few seconds of silence. Slowly the trace of a smile came into the IceDevimon's expression.

"Interesting. Who are the Parasimon working for?"

"It wouldn't say," the Devidramon answered. "Just talked about 'the Dark One.'"

"I suppose I should report this to Demon-sama," the IceDevimon said. "These humans may be… of interest to him." He paused. "Is there any chance the Parasimon will mention your conversation to anyone?"

Now it was the Devidramon's turn to smile, showing its many sharp teeth. "None," it said.

"Then find our other scouts and tell them to return to the castle," IceDevimon said. "I will go on ahead." Stepping out of the shadows it spread its wings and shot into the sky, the only spot of white against the black landscape. It wheeled and headed back in the direction it had come, while the Devidramon, much better camouflaged, also took to the air and traveled in the opposite direction, flying low to the ground.

Hiraga felt in need of a smoke. He might take one before long, though it seemed a little distasteful to do so while the streets were so full of dust and debris. The evening had probably already done as much damage to his lungs as a pack of cigarettes could. And besides, such a casual action might look suspicious to the various authorities and emergency personnel who now crowded the neighborhood.

Their presence was partly his fault, of course. After conferring with the members of Sato's organization he had helped the group arrive at the decision to transfer the base's data, leave the building unnoticed, and detonate the entire basement rather than wait for the enemy Digimon to arrive. There were obvious drawbacks to this, but it was agreed that there was little else that could have been done, and the building had already been compromised. The bodies in the subbasement must also have been incinerated in the blast.

A risk had been run that the Chosen Children might be caught in the explosion, but in the aftermath it became evident that they had survived. Hiraga had realized soon enough what the impediment was that the Dark Man had hinted at. Everything was quiet enough now – as quiet as could be expected after such a large-scale disaster – and the battle evidently over, though he had no idea yet what that final explosion in the air meant. At the moment he didn't particularly care.

His concern right now was self-preservation. He didn't know where the other fugitives had gotten to by now, but if his services were required in future he could take orders in his sleep. It had taken a while, but he had realized that his conversation with the Dark Man suggested that his vision of the previous night really had connected him to his employer.

Extricating himself from the disaster zone was the first order of business, preferably without being stopped. Getting questioned wouldn't be a problem, but he would run the risk of his illegal firearm being discovered. What were the chances, he wondered, of happening across the cat-like Digimon he'd been tasked with finding before tonight's mess started? He also wondered whether it had survived the catastrophe and ensuing battle, and whether he would have to go hunting for it again. Tedious as the task was, at least it would give him something to do.

After many tense minutes Hiraga figured that he was out of danger area and could relax a bit. Relax! he thought. That's a joke. He hadn't felt truly relaxed for quite a while now. His profession and lifestyle had never particularly lent themselves to relaxation, but he'd borne with the normal stresses – present in any career – well enough until this latest job began. It was the strangeness that told on him, probably. He didn't understand the world he'd wandered into.

Something else that he didn't understand was why he still remained in Sato's employ, paid good money for little work, work that he didn't even seem to execute to his employer's satisfaction. The question had bothered him off and on for a long while, and it came back to him tonight when everything seemed to be going to hell. Maybe he should quit… But would they let him? Hiraga had worked for some frightening people in the past, but they were only human beings like he was, who had to play by the same basic rules. But the members of this organization could read minds and command demons. For the first time in his life Hiraga felt afraid to back out of a job. He was trapped. How could he blend into the shadows when the shadows were alive and seeking him?

As he made his way back to his apartment, he tried to put his worries out of his mind. For now he could only wait and keep alert. If there was a change in the situation he must be sure to notice and capitalize on it. His wits had kept him out of trouble this long. He would rely on the possibility that they might do so yet again.

Takenouchi Haruhiko had been standing for a while on Odaiba's beach, gazing across the dark bay to mainland Tokyo. He wasn't sure when or how Sora and the others would return – that they might come flying back seemed unlikely – but he had been restless at home and was glad to stretch his legs while he waited with the apprehension that the Chosen Children's parents never seemed to entirely grow out of. His own apprehension ran high at the moment. There had seemed to be a lot of commotion across the water, but Odaiba was too far away from the action for him to make out any details. By now things seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but he couldn't feel at ease until he knew that his daughter and her friends were safe.

His wonderings were interrupted by a sudden low rumbling and sensation of movement. After a moment's confusion he realized that it was an earthquake he was feeling. The sand moved under his feet, and the waves in the bay seemed to swell. The disturbance intensified as the quake continued, stretching itself out into one of the longest he'd felt in a while, and one of the strangest. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the sound and feel of the tremors seemed subtly different from what he was used to.

He failed to determine why that was before the quake subsided. He'd heard from his wife that another earthquake had struck the area only a night or two before, and wondered if there was any connection. Maybe he could ask a fellow professor about it, one whose specialty lay closer to seismology.

His gaze had wandered idly back to the lights of the mainland when he heard his daughter's voice behind him, raised in surprised greeting.