Sandilyamon = Sandiramon
Igamon = Ninjamon
Chapter 43: Digital World: hard and piercing Light
As from the depth of shadows something moved and stepped into the torch-lit glow, Garmmon's low warning growl turned threatening.
Pitchblack skin gleamed, bat-like wings stretched on the back and a red trident in Phelesmon's hand mocked. "Here I thought to say my goodbyes before my next," a purple tongue licked over lips, but doing nothing to disguise the snarl, "my next human hunting trip. And look at what I found."
Garmmon only managed to articulate the rage he felt with a wild growl, the memories of the last time he faced that abomination in this body bubbling up. The helplessness, the choking under power and being hunted and captured like an animal. At the very least, it seemed, the strange dark-matter like meterial he had used then wasn't here now. With how it had made even Koji's human instincts scream, Garmmon would know if it were anywhere near.
His eyes glowed a fierce white, piercing past the shallow darkness. Igamon, Sandilyamon; and Chamelemon hidden from his eyes but not his nose, a couple Sagittarimon. They were surrounding them from all sides, backs to the walls and not leaving a single hole in their lines even in a place large enough to host one of his school gatherings.
The little human he had all but forgotten about until now tensed on his back. Her feeble senses might not catch a lot, but the cat-partner's hiss of anger and the movements away from sight might not even escape her. "What are we going to do," she whispered frightened, quietly for human ears.
Pressure started building in the wheels at his heels and Garmmon unfolded his razor sharp, thin blades. He tensed in preparation, the little human held on tight enough that he sensed her even through his thick, metal skin. Phelesmon saw, waved a sharp hand, the mass of controlled digimon was shifting, but it wouldn't matter, he'd just cut through-
"Speed star!"
Garmmon's eyes were sharp. They had to be, to be able to keep up with his own high speed or else his fighting style would be as harmful to him as it was to his enemies. It was those sharp eyes that saved him from damage and likely his passengers' lives. White digimon, Sandilyamon, had slithered in and blocked the corridor with their hard bodies. As hard as Garmmon's own.
He identified them at the very last second where he, while unable to stop his momentum, was still able to redirect it. He pushed off the ground with all his strength and his paws contacted with the wall. His spinning wheels still carried him, but his weight and gravity was working against him and even as he was racing the wall up, he was slowing. Pushing off once more and twisting in the air had Garmmon land where he had started two seconds before.
He snarled, opening his jaw wide. "Solar Laser!" The beam of light was unfailingly aimed at Phelesmon, hoping to cut it in half. If Garmmon couldn't move past by force, then he had to cut off the head and the rest would scatter like rats-
Trident whirling, Phelesmon caught the attack and batted it aside, into the crowd.
Disbelieving, Garmmon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth; his attack had failed. Twice.
Digimon yelped where the beam cut through the ranks, some screamed, some burst into data. And now they too, became animated. It was easy; be attacked, attack in return.
But Garmmon's focus was on one something else. Phelesmon, a dark and evil digimon had blocked a laser of pure, piercing light. Phelsemon wasn't even gloating about it, still looking as angry as before. It didn't fit with what Garmmon remembered of its character.
Quickly, Garmmon's rage cooled into something more calculating. "Get off." Garmmon ordered his passengers and when they failed to move, he tilted his body to the side and dropped them off coldly. They were unmoving, stunned; the human's face was a sickly green color and her breath ragged. "I feel like...throwing up," she managed to articulate in protest and justification. "I.." She broke off, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Garmmon would have sneered at the absurd deficit of motion-sickness, even the cat's, if their lives weren't in danger. As he stepped over them in protection against the projectiles the digimon he labeled dismissively as 'foot soldiers' were throwing at them, he hadn't just noticed the odd lack of close or middle ranged combat digimon among those controlled. Why? But Garmmon pushed the question aside. So long as it didn't become a problem right now, it had to wait. Priorities.
The girl had to get out.
For that the path had to be free.
Problem: Enemy headquarters, not much time.
If I have to, I'm going to wipe them all out, he decided.
Garmmon shifted his weight to his hind legs and as soon as he begun the motion with the right intention, he felt the data streams build up. "Double Spirit Evolution!"
His body rebuild itself, the thick muscles condensed into smaller space. Paws and hands were becoming the same. Armor, formerly his skin, was set apart in different layers, and the fangs of his jaw shrunk but stayed sharp all the same. The ever-present aggression fueling him became hard and sharp, tamed but focused as just another weapon to wield. Purpose, objective.
Beowolfmon was not a third or a half or one side of multiple sides of one being. Beowolfmon had what he otherwise lacked. Unity, vision, balance.
Therefore, Beowolfmon was the strongest.
Light and data of evolution receding, Beowolfmon glanced around with sharp and assessing eyes, seeking out the best way for escape.
"Gatomon, girl, be ready." He said after with a round swing of his twin blade he repelled another wave of sharp objects. Unlike Garmmon, Beowolfmon couldn't shield them with his body anymore, being smaller and of different build. More importantly, he couldn't protect them when he had to move on to the attack himself. Shuriken clashed against the chrome of his sword and clattered against the ground as the girl shakily, still slightly green and otherwise unhealthy looking, crawled to her feet.
From what Beowolfmon had seen so far of this world's chosen children, he wasn't overly impressed with their softness and naivety, but he had to give this girl that at least: she was though.
Gatomon handed her her digivice and it flashed. Beowolfmon stepped away to give space and a few seconds after a call of "Digimental up!", the powerful beat of wings tickled fine strands of hair against his cheek. "Nefertimon!" The feline digimon escaped to the safety of height. The theatrics of putting their pillar-prisons into a grand hall, higher than several stories, came out to Beowlofmon's advantage for once. As irritating and grating as it was.
Nefretimon send an an unwelcome jolt to memories of failure and defeat and pleading through the back of his mind, but Beowlofmon's hands didn't shake as he smoothly raised his sword in front of him. Light cuts through everything. Dark memories and evil darkness all the same. Nefertimon's appearance managed to draw the focus of attack from the foot soldiers to her and her partner. It was lucky, for it meant Beowolfmon would not have to split his focus away from the one digimon present that was a threat and that Beowolfmon had to defeat and defeat fast. Enemy Headquarters.
In battle, the smallest second could be decisive. A smallest break in attention, a flicker of eyes, was all it took sometimes.
Neither Beowolfmon nor Phelesmon were as inexperienced as to make such a mistake however, and as of the two of them, it was only Beowlofmon who had a long range attack, it was him who held the advantage. The first move belonged to him. In a fight there were otherwise too many openings Phelesmon would allow. Openings that Bewolfmon then would be able to strike at from the distance Phelesmon first had to cross. It wasn't curtsey that had made Phelesmon wait in place, even were the enraged dgimon capable of it. It wasn't anything but plain disadvantage.
Now Beowolfmon opened the fight; he focused energy into the weapon, making a ghostly form gather around it, red eyes glowing. "Zweihänder!"
Following the specter of light energy, Beowolfmon shot forward intend on slashing Phelesmon in half once and for all. One death to clear the way. Enemies that weren't organized, couldn't think on their own fell into chaos easily; they were easy to bypass.
Bewolfmon brought the twin edges down.
A sharp clinking, spitting sparks and metal hit metal, unmoving.
Beowolfmon's shocked eyes met Phelemon's malicious ones over the clash of their weapons. "Impossible," he hissed, sounding close to a feral growl. He pulled his sword back, then attacked again; swards slash, upwards cut, at the neck. He was met, blow for blow and somewhere in the back of his mind, the impossibility was starting to sink in.
It wasn't working. Beowolfmon was matched.
It was impossible, but it was happening. How? Was my energy sucked dry by this place? Do I not have enough strength left? Bewolfmon adjusted with the speed only an experienced warrior was capable of.
With a large and powerful swing, the wolf digimon locked their weapons in place once more, pressing his weight down on his smaller opponent. But even then, the blood red trident remained unmarked. Beowolfmon growled, frustrated.
Phelesmon glowered venomously. "Not so powerful now, are you, little human," it spat. It sounded insulted, personally offended and Beowolfmon narrowed his eyes in return. "You couldn't possible be capable of it! Shouldn't be! What cowardice and trickery did you use? To defeat one like myself! I'll crush you!"
White-blue eyes widened marginally and in a snap decision, Bewolfmon shoved his left hand past their interlocked weapons into the other's face. "Licht Angriff!" Missiles shot from his pawed hand guard. Beowolfmon jumped back.
An explosion rocked the hall and the blast took Beowolfmon off his feet, but he caught himself easy enough, sliding over the ground. His sword screeched over the stone as he dug it in for balance and the sound hurt his ears, but the canine digimon couldn resist smirking the cloud of smoke, before he was suddenly forced to roll for cover from shuriken behind JP's column.
Nefertimon who was doing a good job at staying out of reach up in the air, save. And though Beowofmon had been flashy, and drawn some of their attention to him, it hardly mattered; to him the danger wasn't the same.
The level system and the advantage of being a digidestined worked well for chosen children. None of those of the same stage of evolution would ever be quite able to match them, but there were others here as well, a higher level that Nefertimon wouldn't be able to match. That was the one big disadvantage; the barriers of one difference in evolution.
Beowolfmon stood outside of that.
Whatever enemy, to Beowolfmon counted only the advantage or disadvantage of elements. Levels meant power, but not enough to bridge the hold the elements had on the legendary warriors. In battles, decisive factors for victory were different; strategy, tactics, wit, experience...
In any case, for now Kari and Nefertimon were save enough. Only he had to forge a way.
He tightened and relaxed his grip on his sword, the obstacle to that goal at the forefront of his mind as the smoke settled. "I had wondered why darkness corrupt as yours managed to put up a fight," he spoke coldly. "The answer is so simple: it is not darkness but a cheap imitation." He smirked maliciously, showing his white teeth. "You lucked out. I thought stench like yours was familiar from some time ago. A Murmuxmon, isn't it?"
A snarl, followed by a flap of fabric dispelled the last remains of visible cover. The dramatic flapping of the cape was also familiar. Beowolfmon unwillingly wrinkled his nose. That explained the smell of rotting clothes and old blood.
Murmuxmon was fairly seething.
Theory confirmed, Beowolfmon went to planning. Now that he knew the true identity of someone of equal skill it was only a matter of being smart about it. Murmuxmon were arrogant, he remembered. Conceited, ambitious, powerful sorcerers. A psychological attack would be best, then.
Beowolfmon rose from a crouch to his feet, languidly, and deliberately let his attention be drawn to the Sandilyamon still blocking the way for a speedy exit. "I don't have time for you," he pronounced clearly. "And now that I know what you are, defeating you will be easy. You are a sorcerer. Your greatest strength lies in deception and mind games. Just like the other one I knew. Now that you don't have that, now that I know, it's only a matter of cutting you."
To underline his point, Beowoflmon caught a spear that was thrown at him from the side with his bare hand (light element; light vs light-thunder, of course the element holder wins) as he pointed his sword at Murmuxmon. "We don't have time for you."
There was a long moment of silence between them before Murmuxmon's expression abruptly shifted from mounting fury to terror.
"Then pray, tell what do you have time for," an absolutely chilling and angry voice interrupted. It was quietly spoken but by no means was it a soft voice and Beowolfmon whirled around, going so far as to show his back to Murmuxmon.
He felt the evil all way from across the hall. That he had not noticed that before, more than anything else in this situation, made him wary. Tension, apprehension, a sliver of fear abruptly wormed its way through Beowolfmon's combat-focused mind. It was darkness and evil at its basest, spun into a towering form of a seemingly unbalanced digimon. More troublesome still, and a beat of sweat rolled down Beowolfmon's cheek at the thought, was the sheer power he sensed. On instinct alone, while his mind was still processing, he held his sword defensively in front of him. "Who the hell are you?"
There were many impressions, far to many to absorb all at once. By the time the question had left his lips, Beowulfmon already knew the answer. All attacks against him or Nefertimon and Kari have stopped, the digimon all falling postures of submission. Even Murmuxmon didn't dare lift its eyes off the ground.
Anger and rage. It was just seeping under the new digimon's calm skin. A large and boney, yet metallic seeming hand hung off the right side of the body. On the same side, a ruby red eye was glowing. It was scary and though his face could almost be mistaken for an old man in a costume, the image didn't even cross Beowolfmon's mind. Power, evil. Anger.
A chill raced through Beowolfmon when the eyes turned directly on him. "I am Bagramon, the Lord of this Castle and many, many worlds," he announced, every syllable reeking of superiority, "and on my way to execute the one responsible for failing to keep the schedule of Nobel Revival as well as to demand an explanation as to why it is that even with DarkQinglongmon at my word the gates have not opened completely, when I happened upon this commotion." The digimon's stare told Beowolfmon he was hardly considered worth any breath. "And you are my tool. Who allowed you to move of your own accord?"
Beowlofmon tilted his blade from purely defensive to slightly aggressive, intimidated by refusing to show it. Glaring over the edge of his weapon, Beowolfmon took a good look at the one responsible for this mess that he found himself in. The one above all else that had to be defeated, destroyed and cleansed; cut off the head and the rest will scatter like rats...
Therefore, Beowolfmon existed. "I don't take orders from anyone, not even my own rulers," he stated, point blank refusing to acknowledge this one's authority over him.
The next thing Beowolfmon knew, he crashed into a wall. Hard. He felt the armor around his ribcage crack and bend. Then pain. It came down on him like a tidal wave and blood tickled past his lips. He swiped at it, dazed and slow. His ears were ringing, his sight swam and without even noticing, his weight tilted to the side as he fell.
There was some shrill noise, but Koji couldn't focus on it at all, the cold touch of the floor against his cheek everything he was capable of processing for what seemed like a long time.
The next time there was the noise, he was able to name it again. A scream. The teen forced his eyes to open and was at once grateful for the lack of steady light even when the dancing flames bit in his eyes.
He wished Takuya would turn down on the fire.
Takuya didn't.
Actually, Takuya didn't do much at all with his little pet flames except letting them burn; he wasn't even being noisy or annoying about it. Odd, Koji thought, and drew his eyebrows together in an effort to focus more. Of blurry shadows, some of them leaning over him, none seemed familiar at all, actually, and though besides the flames it was all dark around, he didn't sense his brother's presence.
The hairs on the back of his neck standing up, Koji bit his teeth together and was at once all too aware of the taste of fresh blood in his mouth. Immediately, like a spike, all feelings turned into a sense of danger.
And no sooner than he thought to think about it, Koji was hit by the feel of evil and power in the air. Adrenaline kicked in, numbing his dizziness and turning his mind crystal clear and razor sharp. It felt strangely repetitive. There were many sensations, but the most important one was: Power, evil, anger.
Few things mattered when one was in danger and Koji had practice in blanking any unwanted thought and sensation from his mind.
He forced his eyes to focus more and as if to articulate his struggle, there was a desperate scream. A name. "Kari!" Infused in the cry was helplessness, despair, anger, breathlessness with pain, fear, fearfear-
Through the limbs of many bodies gathered around him, Koji just managed to watch one blurry figure hold up another one, this one kicking in the air, and press it against a wall. No, no wall. A column. A prison. A prison Koji didn't want to return to, not again, and a tool, one that he couldn't allow the girl to be bound to. The power of evolution was too important, Koji knew. Though the connection between a girl and evolution escaped him at the moment...
"Gatom-" The shout was strangled to begin with and then cut short. The following silence was like the end; final, oppressive, like death.
Koji stemmed a fist into the ground and forced his head up.
Just the simple motion made the blood pound in his head so hard, unconsciousness threatened to sweep in again. Koji tried to take even breaths, but it only made him notice the pain in his torso. My ribs. Broken? Hurts enough for three, he noted distantly. It didn't matter. His wounds, his hurt, his body didn't matter. Priorities. Koji had priorities to keep. Things to save. Worlds to save. Responsibility to do it. The others...
What can I do...?
Beowolfmon at his strongest had been beaten, defeated so hard with just one hit that even Koji had been knocked out, however shortly. How can I fight?
The controlled digimon around him parted without so much as ever raising their eyes off the floor and as Koji still struggled to get up, the Bagramon closed in. Walking in a comfortable, royal pace. It angered Koji beyond reason to just see a digimon walk like that.
It was like Lucemon all over again. Before, while and after his brother had been murdered before his eyes. The memory came fast and unexpected, bringing with it a flood of hate so strong it hit Koji like a physical strike. But that was nothing compared to the sheer scream everything in his body gave when Bargramon trailed his long and boney hand along the floor and seemingly pulled something -liquid, dark, black, swallowing- just out of the floor.
In an instinctive reaction, Koji's body jerked in the opposite direction, long before his head managed to catch up.
Koji's mind was blanked into a state of horror, fear, and disgust. What the hell-?
Koji all but forgot about the digimon holding the substance, the need to get away, the things he had to do. He was completely unable of even tearing his eyes away from that abnomination that made his instincts scream like never bef-
No, I already felt this once.
Phelsemon, sadistic laughter, the feeling of hopelessness, helplessness and the knowledge that it was inevitable. It was back when he had been captured for the first time, by a genuine Phelesmon, lost in a digital world he didn't recognize. It was shortly before and the reason he had forgotten he even existed once.
If it hadn't been for Koichi...
Koji stared at the dark matter. Would Koichi have to revive his being again? He wondered, almost apathetic even though it was the last thing he knew he should feel.
He didn't even know if his body was in a state to move, because before he could even try Koji felt his energy being sucked away through his fingertips. The substance drew everything of Koji in like a black hole, taking even that sharp iron spear of focus and will that made Koji who he was, that was a core of what Light itself was.
It was simply sucked away from him...
There was a flash of green light.
This is the chapter for October. Many thanks to smfan for doing a great job with beta-reading and preventing me from making gross mistakes!
Do you have suggestions? Critique? Likes? Dislikes? Complains? Or things you noticed?
TBC.