Chapter 10: A Monster in the Frozen Lands of the North
Minervamon was already in the Frozen Lands of the North. Every two or three weeks, she had to make that costly journey to that cold and almost uninhabited place. For her, it was a penance, but she owed it to her subjects. A small group of her servants, led by Coaltmon, inhabited the icy temple located in the area. That beautiful temple had been her downfall. She had owned it for quite some time and loved it. The temple itself was not the problem, but rather who had given it to her, but that was another story.
The cold bit into her delicate skin like a thousand needles, but Minervamon barely felt it, accustomed to the harshness of the Frozen Lands. The blizzard roared around her, blind and furious, reducing her vision to mere flashes of clarity and making each step feel like a titanic effort.
"Typical of this area," thought the goddess, as her thoughts intertwined with the howl of the wind.
The truth was that in the Frozen Lands, blizzards were quite frequent, and it snowed every day. She continued her journey, feeling the constant vigilance. Every time she visited that place, the sensation was the same. She knew perfectly well who it was but could never detect their position. They knew how to camouflage themselves in that icy landscape. After all, the territory was theirs.
Finally, she arrived at her temple. The enormous ice construction rose majestically in the desolate landscape, with its simple yet imposing facade. The blocks of ice, precisely carved and masterfully assembled, gleamed under the diffused sunlight, reflecting bluish glints that danced on the surface. The structure seemed to emerge naturally from the frozen ground. Its clean, angular lines contrasted with the softness of the snowy landscape.
The details on the exterior walls, finely sculpted, depicted intricate reliefs of ancient Digimon, narrating forgotten stories and legends of past eras about the goddess. Each carved figure seemed to come to life under the light, casting shadows that added a sense of movement and dynamism to the facade.
On either side of the grand ice portico, two colossal statues of serpentine guardians flanked the entrance. Their eyes were carved with such precision that they seemed to follow Minervamon's every move as she advanced. Their coiled bodies and open jaws in a silent warning imposed an air of solemnity and respect.
Minervamon called at the great ice portico, whose gigantic gates were adorned with engravings of epic battles and symbols of power. As the doors opened, they emitted a deep, resonant sound, like an ancient roar that reverberated across the vast icy expanse.
Once inside, the doors closed with a loud creak, sealing the temple from the outside world and enveloping Minervamon in reverent silence.
The main hall, vastly spacious, was surrounded by imposing ice columns that supported the temple. These columns, carved with almost supernatural precision, reflected the light in a thousand facets, creating a dazzling spectacle of blue and white flashes that illuminated the room with an ethereal glow. Each column was adorned with engravings of epic scenes, depicting ancient battles and glorious victories, mythological figures, and arcane symbols that told stories of bygone eras.
The floor, made of polished ice blocks, was as clear as crystal, reflecting the high ceiling where enormous ice chandeliers in the shape of crystals hung, emitting a soft, cold light. These chandeliers, powered by a magical energy, illuminated the hall with an almost unreal clarity, making every corner of the temple shine.
Two staircases, located on either side of the room, descended to the lower floors. The banisters of the staircases were sculpted in the form of intertwined serpents, their scales intricately worked, giving the impression that they were moving with a life of their own. In the center of the hall stood an immense life-sized statue of a serpent Digimon. It was Coaltmon, majestic and formidable, its ice form so realistic that it seemed poised to move at any moment.
Minervamon approached the statue, raised her hand, and touched its snout. The statue lit up with an icy radiance, a bluish light spreading from the point of contact, coursing through the entire body of the statue like a wave of energy. Suddenly, the statue began to change, the ice melting and transforming into a living being. It was the very Coaltmon, the first loyal servant of Minervamon, who had been guarding the temple for five years.
Coaltmon's scales shimmered with a frost-like sheen, his eyes gleaming with a cold intelligence. His presence was commanding, his body coiling and uncoiling with a sinuous grace that belied his icy composition. He lowered his head in a gesture of respect, acknowledging Minervamon's presence.
"Welcome back, my goddess," Coaltmon said, his voice a resonant whisper that echoed through the hall. "The temple remains safe under my watch."
Minervamon nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination. She knew that with Coaltmon by her side, her sanctuary in the Frozen Lands would remain a bastion of strength and resilience.
Coaltmon was an imposing serpent, with a long and sinuous body covered in bright scales that reflected the light in shades of blue and white. His eyes, a deep sapphire blue, looked with sharp intelligence and unwavering loyalty. His presence was majestic, almost overwhelming, and every movement he made was graceful and silent, as if he glided on the very air. Coaltmon had the ability to transform into a statue, a skill that allowed him to watch over the temple undetected, blending seamlessly with the ice structures of the temple.
"Good evening, Minervamon. How was the journey?" asked the serpent, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Fine. As always, I felt watched," replied Minervamon, letting out a sigh that turned to vapor in the icy air.
"Do you think Lord Vikemon has been following you again?" Coaltmon persisted, coiling his body around himself.
Vikemon, ruler of the Northern Icy Lands and builder of that temple, had been in love with Minervamon for a little over five years, ever since he had the temple constructed. He gave it to her as a means of courting. But Minervamon was not one to fall in love easily, so she had accepted the temple as a gesture of friendship. However, Vikemon's constant and increasingly annoying advances forced her to visit the temple less frequently.
"I suppose so. However, this time it was more aggressive. As if he were trying to attack me and couldn't find the right moment. When Vikemon spies on me, he usually tries to blend in with the thick layers of snow along the path, blending in with the blizzard, being stealthy and things like that. This time, however, it seemed like he wanted me to notice his presence."
"It's possible it wasn't him," Coaltmon mused, slowly uncoiling.
"It's another possibility," replied the goddess, nodding her head. "In any case, nothing bad happened to me, so let's stop talking about it."
"As you wish. Your subjects await you in the lower chambers. They are eager to see you," said Coaltmon, gesturing towards the stairs.
"Then accompany me down."
They approached the stairs that led to the lower floors of the temple and descended carefully. As they went down, the temperature seemed to drop even more, and the air grew denser, laden with an ancient and powerful energy. The walls of the stairway were covered in icy glyphs and runes, emitting a soft blue glow that illuminated the path in a ghostly light.
Finally, they reached the lower chamber, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the main hall. The room was small and austere, with low ceilings and smooth ice walls that reflected the light in soft, undulating patterns. Though modest, the chamber exuded an atmosphere of reverence and solemnity, as if it were a sacred sanctuary reserved only for the most devout.
In this chamber were thousands of small snake Digimon. Their serpentine bodies formed a living mosaic of gleaming golden scales that contrasted with the white tones of the room. They were scattered irregularly throughout the space, resting on the cold ice floor or coiled around small protrusions of frozen crystal.
Upon noticing Minervamon's presence, the snake Digimon rose in perfect synchrony, like a single organism. Their bright, attentive eyes reflected the light with reverent intensity, fixing on Minervamon with absolute devotion. The silence in the room was total, broken only by the faint whisper of their movements as they parted, creating a small aisle leading to the center of the chamber.
Minervamon advanced with firm steps, her slender and majestic figure standing out in the icy environment. As she walked, the aisle closed behind her, as if her subjects were forming a living honor guard. The devotion in the eyes of the snake Digimon was palpable, a mixture of respect and adoration that enveloped her completely.
In the center of the chamber, a small ice altar stood modestly. It was adorned with delicate engravings and carvings that depicted Minervamon's history and achievements. Above the altar, small lights of pure energy glowed, dancing like will-o'-the-wisps in the icy air.
Minervamon stopped before the altar, her gaze sweeping with satisfaction and pride over the figures of her subjects. Coaltmon, who had closely followed her, positioned himself by her side, observing with equal reverence. The atmosphere was charged with a silent expectation as Minervamon took a moment to absorb the devotion surrounding her, feeling the deep and powerful bond that connected her with those small snake Digimon who guarded her temple.
"My loyal followers," she finally said, her voice resonating clear and strong in the room. "It is an honor to be among you. Together, we will continue to protect this temple and all that it represents."
The snake-like Digimon emitted a soft hiss of approval, their bodies vibrating with renewed energy. The room, though small and austere, was filled with an invisible force, a testament to the power and loyalty that Minervamon inspired in her subjects.
The sound of footsteps in the room above broke the silence and calm that pervaded the place.
"I'll go check," said Coaltmon, sliding with surprising agility.
The serpent lay down and began to slither upstairs. Its whitish fur allowed it to blend into the snowy landscape that made up the entire temple. When Coaltmon saw who the intruder in the temple was, it calmed down. It stopped slithering and presented itself before him. It signaled for Minervamon to come up. The Olympian ascended the stairs slowly, sword in hand, wary of any danger that might lurk. To her surprise, in the main hall, there were only Coaltmon and Vikemon.
Vikemon looked just as he did the first time she saw him. She remembered him perfectly. The first impression Vikemon gave to all who beheld him for the first time was that he was a strong, rough, and rugged Digimon. His presence, although not excessively tall—only a foot taller than Minervamon—commanded immediate and almost palpable respect. His sturdy figure, with pronounced muscles and a posture that exuded power and resilience, was impossible to ignore.
His great cloak of white fur, made from the pelts of beasts he had hunted himself in the Frozen Lands, enveloped him like a second skin. This cloak, like Coaltmon's, allowed him to blend into the icy landscape, but it also gave him a more severe and sometimes mysterious appearance, with an almost spectral air that made him seem like a legendary figure emerging from ancient myths. The edge of the cloak was adorned with Viking runes symbolizing protection and strength, inscribed in an arcane language that only the wisest could understand.
His rudimentary Viking clothing, made of tanned leather and furs, was designed to withstand the harsh climate. The ensemble was simple but effective, showing signs of wear from years of battles and survival in the harsh northern environment. However, this wear did not detract from his dignity; rather, each scar and tear told a story of bravery and tenacity.
Vikemon never parted from his weapons, which were an extension of his own being. At his waist, he carried a broad-bladed war axe, forged by Vulcanusmon. The handle was decorated with intricate engravings representing ancient warriors and protective spirits. In addition to the axe, he wielded a massive hammer, its metal head adorned with crystalline ice spikes that dangerously gleamed under the light. Each weapon seemed imbued with ancient energy, ready to be unleashed on the battlefield.
His eyes, of intense blue, reflected the coldness and hardness of the eternal ice he ruled, but they also showed flashes of wisdom gained through countless challenges. Looking into Vikemon's eyes was like facing the very essence of the Frozen Lands, a constant reminder that he was their rightful sovereign.
The combination of his powerful presence, imposing armament, and penetrating gaze made anyone who crossed paths with him instantly understand why Vikemon was the feared and respected ruler of the Northern Frozen Lands. His figure, imposing and steeped in history, was a living testament to the legends told about him, a symbol of the strength and resilience that defined his kingdom.
"What are you doing here, Vikemon? Why do you intrude upon my temple?" asked the goddess in an inquisitive tone. Her voice resonated in the vast hall. She was greatly surprised by the Viking's abrupt intrusion. He usually tended to notify her before visiting, or at least call at the portico and wait to be received at the entrance.
"He is here," Vikemon replied, with a grave and somber tone.
Minervamon cast a furtive glance at Coaltmon.
"I'd better go," said the serpent as it descended the stairs, slithering away silently until it disappeared.
"To whom do you refer?" inquired Minervamon, her curiosity piquing.
"The monster," Vikemon replied, dry and curt.
"The monster," thought Minervamon, as memories flooded her mind. It was during a banquet in her palace, a night of celebration and wine, when Vikemon had spoken to her about that fearsome creature. The description still echoed in her mind with the same clarity as that night, as if Vikemon's words had left an indelible mark on her memory.
Vikemon had begun the story with a seriousness that immediately captured Minervamon's attention. With a deep and measured voice, he had said, "It is a creature I have never seen in person, but previous generations of rulers had to face it on occasion, sometimes with no success." His normally unflappable eyes showed a hint of unease as he recalled the tales passed down through the centuries.
Minervamon could visualize the image that Vikemon had painted with his words: "They describe it as a heartless sea monster, colossal in size and much stronger than others of its kind." This beast, an aberration of the depths, was larger than any other known sea creature, with a body that could easily ravage entire ships and crush any opposition with its brutal strength. Its scales were like plates of dark steel, impenetrable and cold to the touch, and its eyes, empty and cruel, reflected a dark and ancient intelligence.
"It is devoted to guarding the Crown Code of these seas," Vikemon continued, referring to a legendary artifact of incalculable power, an object of mystery and reverence, whose power was so great that many considered it a divine relic. This Crown Code, hidden in the depths of the ocean, was both a treasure and a curse, attracting those brave or foolish enough to seek it. But its guardian, the monster, knew no mercy: "It ruthlessly slays all who venture into its territory."
Vikemon's description did not stop at the monster's acts of violence; it also delved into its nature and habits: "It lurks from the darkness of its seas, but rarely if ever comes ashore. It hardly ever ventures onto the coast, so we are safe." This beast preferred the darkness and isolation of the ocean floor, where shadows were thick and light barely penetrated. From those abysses, the monster kept its vigil, its eyes always watchful, its presence always menacing.
Minervamon remembered how Vikemon's words had left everyone at the banquet in a chilling silence, the air thick with a mix of fear and fascination. The tale of that sea beast was like a horror story coming to life in the mind of every listener, a reminder that even the mightiest rulers of the north had enemies that could not be easily defeated.
Now, as she thought of the monster, a question lingered in her mind: What could have led it to abandon the safety of its underwater domain? Unease mingled with curiosity, creating a tension that made her heart pound forcefully. If the monster had surfaced, the balance of power in the Northern Frozen Lands could be on the verge of changing forever.
"And what is he doing outside of his domain? Didn't you say he only rarely ventured to the coast at most?" Minervamon asked, her brow furrowed and a shadow of concern in her eyes.
Vikemon took a breath, his shoulders tensing as if the weight of his words were tangible. "There is always a moment when he definitively comes out to confront the governor of the place. If he wins or draws, he may live, but if he loses... it will be his end. I believe it's my turn this time. I've come to bid farewell."
The air thickened with the gravity of his words. Minervamon felt a knot in her stomach, but her gaze hardened with determination. "Wait a moment, I'll go with you."
Vikemon turned to her, his expression hardened by a mixture of surprise and something akin to tenderness, though his voice remained firm. "What? Are you going to risk your life for me? I'm sorry, I must stop you. This is something I must do alone," he said, his eyes shining with a fierce determination, like steel under the moonlight.
Minervamon wasn't intimidated, her voice a sharp whisper in the icy air. "I won't intervene in the battle, at least not until it's going very, very wrong; so wrong that you're going to die. I'm only going because I'm curious about the 'monster.' After hearing about him for so long... I hope he lives up to my expectations."
Vikemon sighed, knowing that Minervamon's stubbornness was as unyielding as the mountains surrounding the temple. "I know that even if I go alone, you'll follow me anyway. So, let's go. The place isn't far from here. Just a few kilometers to the south."
"To the south?" Minervamon asked, as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in her mind.
"Yes, to the south," Vikemon confirmed.
The goddess pondered, her mind working at lightning speed. She recalled the unsettling feeling of being watched during her journey to the temple. It wasn't Vikemon. Could it have been the monster who was pursuing her? Such a fearsome creature wouldn't move without purpose. Could she have been the reason why it was here?
The questions whirled in her head, but one thing was clear: the threat was real and closer than they had imagined. With renewed determination, Minervamon turned to Vikemon. "Let's go down to bid farewell to Coaltmon and embark on the journey. There's no time to waste."
As they descended the stairs, the weight of the situation became even more palpable. Minervamon couldn't help but think of the story Vikemon had told her, about the sea beast lurking in the depths, and now it was closer than ever. As they approached the lower hall, her resolve grew even stronger. She wouldn't allow this monster to destroy what they had built, not without a fight.
Minervamon quickly went down to bid farewell to Coaltmon and her subjects, and they set off on their journey. The snow had stopped, but the snow level had risen. It reached Minervamon's knees, making it difficult for her to move forward. Vikemon picked her up and hoisted her onto his shoulders. Minervamon resisted, but eventually relented to Vikemon; deep down, she knew he was doing her a favor. Still, she was annoyed.
"Relax," Vikemon reassured her. "The snow is less abundant on the coast."
But Minervamon didn't listen. She continued to dwell on her dark thoughts...
When they arrived, the place was deserted. There was only them, the coast, and the icy water that bathed it. However, there was something mysterious about the place. They observed the huge, amorphous, and blurry footprints that stretched across the snow.
"It seems like a massive creature," Minervamon remarked, noting the size of the footprints. "I don't know what it could correspond to..."
"Neither do I," Vikemon responded indifferently, scanning the horizon. "It's here," he added.
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
"In reality, you don't know," Minervamon thought.
"Watch out!" Vikemon shouted as a tentacle surged from the water towards her.
The goddess unsheathed her sword and aimed at the tentacle. As if sensing it, the tentacle changed its trajectory and aimed towards Vikemon, who struck it with one of his weapons. The tentacle immediately recoiled.
Vikemon made a move to dive into the water, but Minervamon stopped him, holding him firmly.
The strange figure began to stir. The bubbling waters churned, and the sea grew tumultuous. That being was preparing to emerge from the water and end them. This could be the end.