123
The Dark Maelstrom
"But little time will be left me to ponder upon my destiny – the circles rapidly grow small – we are plunging madly within the grasp of the whirlpool…" – Edgar Allan Poe, "MS. Found in a Bottle"
By a miracle the Chosen Children had managed to get clear of the epicenter of the titanic battle behind them. By now it was a little hard to tell where the monastery's outer edge ended and the tortuous natural rock of the plateau began, but they had been quick enough to avoid the total destruction of the monastery's center.
They had come to a relatively well-sheltered place, and seemed to be out of immediate danger, so they paused almost of one accord to catch their breath. Each examined his or her Digitama with care, and was relieved at finding no visible signs of damage.
"We should try to hatch them," Takeru said, looking around at the other children.
"How do we do that?" Miyako asked. "If I could see Hawkmon again…"
"You rub them," Hikari said. She smiled, but the smile quickly faded. "I wonder if Anubimon will be reborn someday," she murmured. The others looked solemn, but no one said anything. They began to rub their eggs. When after a few seconds nothing had happened, they began to feel apprehensive.
"Hey, how long is it supposed to take?" Daisuke asked.
"The last time, Wormmon hatched as soon as I touched the egg," Ken said uneasily. "But back then there was a light from my Crest…"
"Sometimes it can take a while," Takeru said. "Poyomon didn't hatch until the next day."
"Armadimon…" Iori said, looking down at the spotted yellow egg in his hands.
"I'm not gonna wait that long," Daisuke said. In a low voice he addressed the blue egg he held. "Hey, V-mon… I need you. I want to see you again. It's been terrible without you. Please… Please hatch."
"Please hatch, Hawkmon," Miyako whispered to the white and red egg in her arms.
"Wormmon…"
"…Patamon…"
"Tailmon…" Hikari said, hugging her egg where she knelt.
That's… Daisuke!
Miyako-san!
Iori!
Takeru!
Hikari!
Ken-chan…!
The eggs began to glow. Soon a soft, faint light pervaded the grotto in which the Chosen Children were encamped. For a moment it looked almost pleasant. Then came six popping sounds one right after another, and the glow faded out, to be replaced with many little exclamations of relief, gratitude, and love.
For the first time Hikari held her partner's original form, a downy YukimiBotamon. Meanwhile, Takeru for the moment seemed half reduced to the little boy who had first greeted Poyomon on the shore of File Island. Miyako's tears flowed as she squeezed Pururumon a little too tightly, and Chicomon, Tsubumon, and Leafmon greeted their partners warmly.
For just a few seconds the six children felt at peace. Then, slowly, the awareness of their situation and surroundings began to intrude on their happiness.
"It's cold," Tsubumon said, shivering.
"This is that other world!" Poyomon exclaimed.
"Are you alright, Miyako-san? What happened?"
"Well…" said Miyako, "…it's…"
"Daisuke!" Chicomon squeaked, "What about the enemy?"
None of the children answered right away. They all turned to look back the way they had come, and doubt was written again upon their faces.
For a long while Demon and the One in the form of Gulfmon gazed at each other, saying nothing. Each appeared to gauge the other. Two such opponents had perhaps never clashed before – each a Titan of darkness, each a god of evil whose plot for untold destruction now impeded the other's.
"It's a shame that we couldn't have met under different circumstances, Demon," said the Dark Man's voice.
"Still talking?" said Demon. "I thought that we were done wasting time."
"It's only occurred to me that there's really no need to rush…" the Dark One began, but Demon was already in motion. The crimson claws on his oversized left hand came slashing down, Gulfmon parrying the blow with his long, scalpel-like digits. Gulfmon's other hand reached for Demon, but was caught and held by its thick wrist. "You have the same problem as another friend of mine," the Dark One continued, his narrow green eyes meeting his enemy's gaze. "Your focus is too narrow, your actions too single-minded."
Demon didn't deign to reply. His right hand's grip on Gulfmon's wrist tightened. The claws punched through the hard gray skin, cracking it. Demon gave a savage wrench sideways, and Gulfmon's entire hand and forearm was ripped off and cast aside. In response, Gulfmon thrust his remaining hand forward, forcing Demon away. The lips of the Maw sprang open, the voices within shrieked, buffeting Demon with waves of crushing sound and causing him to lose his grip.
"No amount of screaming will help you," he snarled. "Flame Inferno!" From his mouth, from both hands, flames came pouring in an unceasing torrent. The two attacks warred with each other, the wailing of fresh voices welling up to meet the relentless fire. The air around their point of contact sparked and rippled with the enormous energy produced. Finally the infernal screams and all lesser sounds were drowned out by another explosive concussion.
Both combatants were hurled backwards by the blast. Demon spread his wings wide and slowed himself to a halt. His body was showing signs of wear, but he had the satisfaction of seeing that Gulfmon had not come out unscathed either. And, of course, the Dark One's entire left hand was missing.
Demon had never really entertained any doubts that he would win the battle eventually, and the recent turn of events had only confirmed him in this. Still, he would prefer to end the fight quickly. In spite of the fact that most of the monastery had been obliterated, he thought that he could still sense the near presence of the Dark Seed he had come for. The Chosen Children – or at least Ichijouji Ken – were still alive. Their chance of escaping him was slim, but it wouldn't pay to waste any more time on his current opponent than necessary. A pity that Demon had not had time to secure the Dark Seed before this battle. Once he had obtained it and its copies in the human world, not even enemies such as this being would be a match for him.
"This is the end," Demon muttered. He raised his hands above his head. Between them a ball of flame appeared and began to grow. So densely packed were the energies within it that it became almost a solid thing, glowing orange and red, but with a darkness at its core. The sphere continued to grow, looking like a new sun for this sunless world.
"It is the end indeed!" shouted the Dark One. With both mouths grinning, Gulfmon's enormous body charged forward, its hooves falling like hammers on the empty air.
"Algol's Flame!" Demon roared. He hurled the dark star full into the face of his onrushing enemy. The next moment the sky became a hell of rolling fire.
Up from the midst of this conflagration rose the massive form of Gulfmon, wings flaming, burning away to nothing, forelegs pawing madly before coming down atop Demon. Then the two of them were dropping out of the sky like a meteor. Clammy darkness engulfed them as they plummeted into the midst of that strange, enormous whirlpool under the earth.
Demon's hands grappled with the thick forelegs whose hoof-like claws pinned his shoulders. He gave no thought to his surroundings; all of his focus was bent upon the meddling being he fought. To his great satisfaction he felt Gulfmon's flesh begin to give way under his crushing grip.
The next moment, however, he realized that something was wrong. That flesh didn't feel right. It flowed like liquid between his fingers. At the same time, Gulfmon's entire body began to change. It blackened, began to lose its shape, seemed almost to shrink and melt away. Now nothing remained in Demon's grasp, and instead of his enemy he saw only an inky something retreating up towards the open sky.
Fangs clenched in rage, Demon prepared to follow it… but found that he could not. Baffled, he turned his attention to the space around him. A darkness like water revolved slowly around him, but it was not water, though cold and giving the impression of wetness. It came to him that it must be a materialized form of negative energy. He had heard of cases where such a substance had been collected for one evil purpose or another, but the sheer volume gathered here seemed unbelievable. Where had it all come from?
But that didn't matter. What mattered was the effect this unnatural whirlpool was having on him. Demon realized that for the third time since arriving at the plateau something was beginning to undermine his data on a foundational level. The principle resembled that behind Pharoahmon's attack and the burning essence of the Troopmon, but infinitely stronger. Already parts of him were beginning to fade away, absorbed into this massive repository of Dark power.
Growling deep in his throat, he wrenched himself into a half upright posture. Fires erupted about him, but were immediately quenched by the murky atmosphere. His gradual assimilation continued. Somehow, the fact that it was not a painful process enraged him almost as much as the process itself. Was this how he would finally be defeated – a simple conversion from one form of darkness to another?
He flapped his wings, but the right had nearly disappeared by now. Much of his overgrown left hand had also vanished – the extremities seemed to be targeted first. He could twitch and struggle, and roar in inarticulate rage, but was gradually sinking all the while. He sensed something, a presence, as if unseen red eyes were burning into him from the darkness.
Thoughts of his past passed through his brain – his cataclysmic defeat by the forces of light, his never-ending quest for vengeance and ultimate power. "It will take more than the likes of you to destroy me, Dagomon," he snarled aloud. Yes, he thought to himself. Surely… surely this is not the end. Though this body vanishes, my wrath, my eternal hatred… will never die!
The rate of disintegration was accelerating. Demon roared. In that roar resounded all his lifetime of burning anger, and all his defiance against the powers now taking him and against the forces of good and light whose existence he despised. The sound reached all the way up to the Dark Man where he stood in midair above the dark whirlpool, who smiled as he heard it die away.
"That should be more than enough negative energy," he said to himself. He turned his gaze downward. "Better luck to your other incarnations, O Great Demon Lord."
And he laughed loud and long.
Since receiving word from Koshiro of what had taken place that night in the human world, Gennai had been poring over the files in his innumerable cabinets and the books in his bookcases, searching for anything that might have a bearing on the current situation. There was little chance of coming across any clue he had failed to find before, but it was better than doing nothing. Ilya was nearby in the dining room, accessing various computer systems in the human world in a tedious search for clues to the missing Chosen Children's whereabouts. The other Agents had duties of their own to perform.
"Gennai."
Gennai turned to see a circular mechanism fade into view in the center of the study's floor. Up from its center streamed a beam of multihued light, in which a hologram of Eucaly appeared. He had been dispatched to the Village of Beginnings to scout out the situation there.
"Anything to report?" Gennai asked.
"Not much," Eucaly said, though his face looked a little grim. "The Cyclomon continue to guard the village. They've formed a tight perimeter, so it would be difficult for anyone to get in or out, but not impossible."
"Have they done any damage to the village or its inhabitants?"
"It is hard to say from outside, but I haven't heard much commotion."
Gennai nodded. "We can take it as a good sign, I hope. Please continue your—" He broke off as Eucaly's image wavered.
Eucaly himself frowned.
"There seems to be interference of some kind," he said, his voice almost fading out at several points in the sentence.
"Keep the line open if you can," Gennai said.
"I will," Eucaly said. He continued to flicker every now and again. "It doesn't seem to be very strong. Not as if we were being jammed."
Gennai stepped into the dining room, where Ilya sat before the large screen with a wireless keyboard across his knees.
"Is something wrong?" Ilya asked, turning his head from the screen for a moment.
"I don't know. Have you been experiencing any difficulties here?"
"The connection does seem slow," Ilya said. "I've rarely seen it happen with our system before. The problem seems to lie in the Real World."
Gennai looked thoughtful, and not quite at ease. He began to say something, but stopped when the house began to shake and tremble. Both Agents heard a low rumbling sound, and thought they could detect a sound of disturbance in the surface of the lake overhead.
"Again so soon?" Ilya wondered.
"The earthquakes are becoming more frequent," Gennai said. "Ah, I don't like this. I hate to wake the Chosen Children, but I get the feeling that there will be trouble soon. For now we'll wait. I'll alert the other Agents to stand by."
He walked back into the study. Eucaly had managed to keep the line open, but noted that the slight interference continued.
"Be ready to act at a moment's notice," Gennai told him. "Now then, I must contact the others."