Chapter 23: The last prisoner
Mercurymon, Minervamon, and Marsmon moved in single file through the desolate valley they had to cross before reaching Prision Land. The area they were heading to was located in the central and deepest part of the Xross continent. It had been a long time since they had left behind the blooming valley that stretched across Dragon's Land, and now they had only this small stretch left before reaching their destination.
The landscape was bleak. Twisted, gray trees lined the path. Their dry branches reached up to the sky like skeletal hands begging for sunlight, which barely managed to penetrate the spectral mist that covered the sky with its thick shroud. Rocks and clumps of earth formed an irregular path that hadn't seen a living soul in ages. The silence was absolute, broken only by the crunch of dry branches beneath their feet and Minervamon's constant complaints.
"How much longer?" asked the Olympian, her tone filled with impatience. If she had been riding Coaltmon, she would already be there.
"No," Mercurymon replied curtly, not stopping.
"But how much exactly?" Minervamon insisted, frustration creeping into her voice.
"Just a little," Mercurymon repeated, trying to stay calm. "Just a little more."
"And how much is a little?" Minervamon asked again, her voice now tinged with desperation.
Marsmon huffed every time the conversation repeated. Minervamon's childish antics annoyed him. Although she was the youngest, she was old enough to spend her time doing something more productive, like observing the landscape. However, Marsmon regretted thinking that: the scenery had nothing spectacular. Just four gray, dying trees and rocks along a road that hadn't been travelled in over half a century.
Marsmon walked with a frown, his thoughts as dark as the sky above them. He wondered if his time and energy would be better spent in a direct battle instead of this tedious journey. He glanced at Minervamon, who kept complaining, and at Mercurymon, who marched on undisturbed. His irritation grew with each step, but he tried to contain it.
Minervamon, for her part, was exhausted and frustrated. Each step felt like an ordeal, and the monotony of the landscape didn't help improve her mood. Her thoughts wandered between worry for Vikemon and despair over the endless walk. How much longer would they have to endure this inhospitable path? She wished to be anywhere else, doing anything else.
Mercurymon, leading the march, kept his mind focused on the goal. His eyes scanned the terrain with precision, looking for any sign of danger or deviation in their path. He noticed his companions' irritation but knew that staying calm was crucial. "Just a little more," he kept telling himself, hoping his words would also soothe the others.
The valley seemed to stretch on endlessly before them, but the Olympians knew that each step brought them closer to their destination. The shadows lengthened with the weak light that managed to filter through the mist, and the air grew colder as they advanced. But none of them were willing to give up. Prision Land awaited them, with its hidden secrets and dangers.
They moved with firm, quick steps, as Mercurymon had ordered. Used to always moving at high speed, his impatient nature drove him to keep going. Although nervous, he maintained an impenetrable facade, unlike Minervamon, who didn't hide her unease. Mercurymon knew that any sign of weakness could be used against him, especially by Marsmon, and he couldn't afford to appear vulnerable. Prision Land had been silent for years, complicating the preparations for the expedition. Uncertainty surrounded everything about that place. The memories of the Digimon who had once migrated to Hell's Field after the Olympians' rise still weighed on them: ancient creatures born in the early phases of evolution, whose brutality and submission to their instincts had condemned them to sealing.
Despite everything, Mercurymon strove to project calm. His wolf-shaped mask, which hid his eyes—the mirror of his soul—was his greatest ally. He knew his eyes always betrayed him, revealing the emotions he tried to conceal, but thanks to the mask, he could preserve his aura of invulnerability, something he depended on more than he cared to admit.
The landscape around them remained a mere desert of rocks and dry trees. The trees' branches looked like skeletal hands reaching toward the mist-covered sky. The earth was gray and barren, dotted with irregular stones and deep ruts. The silence of the place was unsettling, broken only by the crunch of branches underfoot and the murmur of the wind.
They turned past what seemed like the fifteenth lonely tree, and the path widened into a large curve, beginning to descend. The slope was steep, almost vertical. Minervamon took the lead, being the first to start the descent. Climbing was one of her favorite activities and part of her daily training. Quickly, Mercurymon overtook her, running across the uneven stone wall. He had been practicing after the Olympians' lackluster performance at Ophanimon's castle. He was going to regain the speed he once had, no matter the cost. Marsmon, meanwhile, descended slowly and more cautiously. He wasn't used to such exercises; he preferred hand-to-hand combat.
Mercurymon and Minervamon waited in silence as Marsmon descended heavily down the slope. The landscape around them seemed to swallow sound, as if the very air was thick with ominous stillness. They stood at the edge of a vast hole, a chasm that stretched into the earth's depths. From there, a spiral staircase, intricately carved, wound downward. The pristine white limestone that formed it glowed with an unnatural brilliance, contrasting sharply with the surrounding rocks, whose shadows thickened into near-blackness.
"This looks like a trap," Minervamon commented, trying to break the suffocating silence around them.
"This is no time for talking," Mercurymon replied as he resumed walking. His steps echoed with relentless determination as he descended the stairs.
Marsmon, pragmatic and always observant, nodded in silence. He understood Minervamon's warning, for he too felt the invisible weight emanating from the place. However, he knew they couldn't stop. Each step seemed to pull him deeper into a charged atmosphere, as if the abyss itself watched, eager to consume them.
They spiralled downward, wrapped in a sensation of endless descent. As they ventured deeper into Prision Land, what should have been a dark, oppressive cavern revealed itself in an unexpected way: a blinding light enveloped them, cold and overwhelming, bathing the entire surroundings in desaturated tones of black and white. The effect was disorienting, as if they had crossed into another plane of existence.
"It's surreal…" Marsmon muttered, frowning as his eyes scanned the black-and-white landscape, searching for a source of light.
They looked up, but there were no torches or mystical orbs to justify the brightness. Only the ancient magic of the place, a force that distorted reality. Minervamon knew this, though the knowledge did not comfort her. This prison had been built millennia ago, not only as a cage for bodies but as a monument to break spirits. The light, instead of being a relief, was a constant torture. It reminded the inmates of what they could never reach: hope.
"This place was designed to seal Digimon in all their facets, both physical and spiritual," Minervamon murmured, her voice tinged with a mix of admiration and horror at the harshness of the punishment.
Mercurymon, unfazed, cut through the air with his rough voice.
"We're not here to admire the architecture," he responded brusquely. "Let's keep moving."
Around them, the heavy air seemed to crackle, as if the very place was waiting for their next move.
Mercurymon had already resumed his march, and Marsmon followed with steady steps, ready to leave the goddess behind if she didn't hurry. Minervamon quickened her pace so as not to be left behind, knowing that her observation had been ignored.
As they advanced a few more meters, the first cells began to emerge from the shadows, their dark outlines barely illuminated by the dim light filtering from above. Carved directly into the limestone rock, some had rusted bars, and others were mere irregular holes, as if time had sculpted their harshness. They varied in size and shape, from narrow niches that could barely house a body to vast caverns, all giving the impression that they had been designed uniquely for each prisoner, tailored to their torments.
The air, heavy and dense, seemed to vibrate with a sense of despair and suffering that seeped into the skin. Even in their emptiness, the cells still held the echoes of muffled screams, the clinking of chains, and the cries of souls that had once suffered there. Scratch marks on the walls, some old and others fresh, told stories of anguish that time had not been able to erase.
Intrigued, Mercurymon approached one of the cells. He stretched out his hand, trying to enter, but an invisible force stopped him.
"Minervamon, why can't I pass?" he asked, confused, observing the invisible barrier that held him back.
"I suppose they're energy fields. Magic, too," Minervamon explained as she approached. "This prison was built eons ago by the ten legendary warriors, before we ascended to power. At that time, they relied on an ancient magic provided by Yggdrasil himself. I don't know much more about it."
Mercurymon frowned, annoyed by the barrier preventing his progress. If the Code Crown was in one of the cells, it would be hard to access.
As they continued moving forward, their eyes scanned the different cells, still unclear on what they were searching for. Each prison in this new section was unique in its design, carved directly into the limestone with a rawness that spoke of centuries of neglect. Some cells were so small and suffocating that they barely allowed a Digimon to curl up on the ground, trapped in an oppressive silence. Others, in contrast, stretched out like enormous caverns, vast enough to hold colossal creatures whose power must have been equally imposing.
The walls of the cells were not simple rocky surfaces; they were covered in engravings, ancient runes, and enigmatic symbols, some of which barely glowed with a spectral light. That faint glow seemed to pulse with latent energy, as if the inscriptions were a seal containing forces much older and more dangerous than the prisoners themselves. The air around the symbols vibrated with an aura of dormant power, hinting that those who had carved them possessed deep and dark knowledge.
Minervamon walked with her head down, distracted by her own dark thoughts. At first, she did this because her eyes hadn't adjusted to the intense brightness of the place. Now, however, she was lost in her worries. She wondered how Vikemon was doing and if the "monster" would attack again. She had ordered Coaltmon to keep her informed, but while she was on this mission, she would know nothing. Additionally, she was furious with herself; her research on the identity of the "monster" had yielded no results. She had also investigated Prision Land, but to no avail. The place was so ancient that even the oldest books held no relevant information.
Marsmon, for his part, paused to inspect each cell again after Mercurymon passed. He hoped to find some mistake, something Mercurymon might have overlooked. He longed to prove Mercurymon wrong, giving him another reason to crown himself leader of the revolution and relegate Mercurymon to the secondary role he believed he deserved.
"We can't afford to overlook any detail," Marsmon murmured, observing the runes on the walls of a particularly large cell. "If the Code Crown is here, we must find it."
"Don't underestimate these barriers," Mercurymon said, without looking at him. "The magic that maintains them is powerful, and it won't be easy to break them."
Minervamon lifted her gaze, her eyes finally adjusted to the blinding light of the place. She looked at her companions and felt a wave of frustration and determination. She knew they couldn't afford to fail on this mission, not after everything they had been through.
"We'll keep going," she said with renewed determination. This mission challenged her intellect, and that excited her. "We'll find the Code Crown, no matter the cost."
They continued walking, stopping to carefully inspect each cell. As they ventured deeper, the walls seemed etched with ancient symbols that likely told stories of suffering and redemption, of power and punishment. Each cell had its own story, an echo of the Digimon once imprisoned there.
"This place is a monument to despair," Minervamon said quietly, her words echoing in the silence. "But it's also a testament to the power we have to face."
"And we will overcome it," Mercurymon said firmly. "We'll find the Code Crown and ensure no one else suffers in this place."
The hallway widened until they reached a circular chamber. In the centre of the room, an imposing sculpture of Yggdrasil stood, showing signs of having once served as a fountain in ancient times. The floor was covered with strange inscriptions, forming intricate arcs that converged at the base of the statue.
Minervamon knelt to study the symbols. It wasn't the first time she had seen this archaic digital nomenclature, now unused and forgotten by almost everyone. Although she didn't remember exactly what it meant, she managed to identify some individual characters. They appeared to be instructions for using the sculpture, though its purpose remained an enigma.
Mercurymon, frowning, watched Minervamon intently. He, too, knew those symbols had a crucial purpose, but he was completely lost as to what it might be. The ancient maps he had studied were imprecise and full of gaps. His only hope lay in Minervamon's ability to decipher the mystery. If anyone could do it, it was her. But he knew that pressuring her wouldn't help.
Marsmon, meanwhile, remained indifferent to the situation. He entertained himself by igniting and extinguishing a small flame with his fingertips; the crackling of the fire gave him a strange calm. He had no interest in the ancient language or in understanding its meaning. As long as Minervamon and Mercurymon handled it, he was satisfied. However, he doubted the effectiveness of his companions, especially Mercurymon, whom he considered incompetent.
Minervamon let time pass in silence, wandering from one side to the other, analyzing the symbols engraved on the floor. She noticed certain similarities and repetitions in some of them and began to sense the underlying pattern.
"These symbols..." she murmured to herself, almost in a trance, "seem to form a set of instructions, but instructions for what?"
Mercurymon, tired of waiting, approached her with determination.
"Minervamon, have you discovered anything useful?" he inquired, his voice filled with impatience and concern.
Minervamon looked up, her eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and determination. The intensity of the light in the room made her thoughts feel even more scattered.
"Give me a little more time," she responded, trying to stay calm. "I'm close to figuring it out, I can feel it."
Marsmon stopped playing with his flame and approached the sculpture, observing the inscriptions from a safe distance. Although he didn't understand the symbols, he sensed the importance of the moment. The circular room, with its arcane inscriptions and the imposing figure of Yggdrasil, emanated an aura of mystery and ancient power. A reverent silence filled the space, broken only by the echo of their footsteps and whispers.
"I hope it's soon," Marsmon said, more to himself than to the others, casting one last critical glance at Mercurymon. "We don't have all the time in the world."
The tension in the room was palpable. Each of them felt the pressure of the mission and the urgency to decipher the mystery of the sculpture. Meanwhile, the inscriptions continued to glow faintly, as if waiting for someone to unlock their ancient secrets.
"Have you figured anything out?" Mercurymon asked bluntly after a moment of silence, his voice echoing in the chamber.
Minervamon looked up from the symbols and nodded, a spark of excitement in her eyes.
"I think so," she said before beginning her explanation. "It seems this room is a platform that leads to a lower level. You can see it in these symbols." She pointed to the engravings behind her, tracing the outlines of the intertwining arcs with her finger.
Mercurymon, arms crossed, nodded, trying to grasp Minervamon's intricate explanation. The symbols and their meaning were a mystery to him, but he trusted in the goddess's abilities.
Marsmon, curious, moved closer. Despite his initial skepticism, he couldn't help but feel intrigued by Minervamon's discovery. He never thought she would uncover something so important so quickly, and he doubted whether he could have done the same. Though Minervamon was often underestimated due to her childish nature, she sometimes had moments of surprising clarity. This was one of those moments.
"They also indicate that the statue needs to be used to activate it," Minervamon continued, pointing to a series of symbols surrounding the base of Yggdrasil's statue.
Mercurymon nodded again, but his impatience began to show in his furrowed brow and tense posture.
"And how is it used?" he interrupted, eager to move forward.
Minervamon paused briefly, frowning as she analyzed the symbols.
"I'm not entirely sure," she finally admitted, causing Mercurymon to lower his head in frustration. "But I think you just need to light a flame at the top of the statue."
Mercurymon lifted his head, a spark of hope lighting up his eyes. This could be the key they needed to move forward.
"And for that, we have Marsmon. We just need to try."
Although Mercurymon hated giving Marsmon an important role, he couldn't deny the usefulness of his abilities at that moment.
"Marsmon, would you like to do the honours?" he asked, trying to keep a neutral tone.
Marsmon, with a proud smile, stepped forward. He liked the idea of being crucial at that pivotal moment.
"Of course," he replied firmly.
Marsmon extended his hand towards the top of the sculpture, summoning a small flame at the tip of his fingers. The fire danced with contained energy, reflecting his own enthusiasm. Slowly, he brought the flame closer to the sculpture, waiting for the ancient mechanism to react.
As he did so, Minervamon watched intently, hoping to see some sign that her interpretations were correct. Mercurymon, on the other hand, remained silent, his mind analyzing every possible outcome and its implications for their mission. The tension in the room was palpable, an echo of the shared uncertainty and hope.
Marsmon leapt high and launched a burst of flame toward the sculpture's peak. As he landed on his knees, he felt the ground tremble beneath him. The statue turned a glowing red, and the symbols on the floor lit up one by one with bluish flames, like ghostly fire. The platform groaned, as if it hadn't been used in centuries, and began to descend slowly.
The Olympians regrouped in the centre of the platform, next to the statue. Uncertainty was reflected on their faces, their minds full of questions about what awaited them below. The platform soon stopped with a jarring thud, as though it had reached the bottom.
The new level revealed before them was similar to the previous one: a wide corridor that seemed to stretch infinitely, flanked by cells. The monotony of the surroundings added to a growing sense of despair. Each cell, each shadow, seemed to stretch time and space, plunging them into an abyss of uncertainty.
Mercurymon stepped forward, determined, and began inspecting every cell he encountered. His analytical mind was focused on finding any clue that could bring them closer to their goal. Marsmon, always suspicious, followed his brother closely, hoping to catch any mistake his companion might make. To the god of war, competition was constant, even in dangerous situations.
Minervamon, on the other hand, remained still for a moment, leaning against the statue. Her mind raced to understand the new situation. Something didn't add up. She felt a presence she hadn't detected on the previous level. If this prison had been abandoned for more than a century, who could be here?
The air grew heavier, and Minervamon couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to sharpen her senses. A faint whisper echoed in her mind, something that shouldn't be there.
"Mercurymon," she finally said, her voice low but firm, "there's someone else here."
Mercurymon stopped, turning toward her with a frown.
"What are you saying?" he asked, his tone skeptical but attentive.
"I feel a presence... we're not alone," Minervamon insisted, her intuition alerting every fiber of her being.
Marsmon, who had been idly flicking small flames from his fingers to keep busy, went on guard upon hearing Minervamon. The idea of a hidden enemy made him feel more alert and ready for whatever might come.
"We should proceed with more caution," Minervamon suggested, her voice reflecting the growing tension in the air.
Mercurymon nodded, his gaze hardening. They couldn't afford to be caught off guard. As they moved down the hallway, the tension in the air grew, and every shadow seemed to shift with a life of its own. The ancient prison held more secrets than they had imagined.
Minervamon decided to catch up with her companions. They had already checked the first dozen cells, all of them empty. She hesitated to share her discovery, not wanting to alarm them unnecessarily.
They continued their journey until, suddenly, Minervamon's fears were confirmed.
"Well, well, I hear footsteps. How can there be someone else here?" a deep voice murmured from the end of the hallway.
Minervamon thought it was an illusion, but when she saw that her companions had also heard it, she knew it was real. There was another Digimon with them.
Mercurymon signaled for them to move toward the source of the voice. They passed several cells until they reached the one housing the creature. The interior of the cell was darker than the others, preventing them from seeing the individual clearly.
Mercurymon approached the transparent barrier separating them and placed his hands over his eyes to improve visibility. The creature slowly moved closer, revealing its imposing figure. As it approached, its features became clearer. Its four strong legs supported a robust body covered in thick purple fur that seemed to absorb the dim light. Despite its skeletal and thin appearance, its torso was muscular, exuding a fearsome strength. Its long, slender arms ended in sharp claws that looked capable of tearing through anything with ease.
Its face, in contrast to the size of its body, was relatively small, but no less intimidating. Large, twisted horns jutted from its head, adding to its menacing aura. Its eyes, filled with malevolence, gleamed with dark intensity. A malicious grin stretched across its face, as if enjoying the confusion it caused in its visitors.
The Digimon tilted its head, observing Mercurymon with curiosity.
"I shall introduce myself," the prisoner said, trying to keep them from leaving. "I am Gulfmon." He bowed. "And I'm the only object that's left here."
The wording caught Minervamon's attention.
"He just referred to himself as an object," Minervamon thought.
That statement raised many questions. She had heard of guardians or keepers of the Corona Code. Additionally, she knew that Digimon could store the code within themselves, acting as a key. Could this Digimon be one of them?
"Wait, Mercurymon. This Digimon might be able to help us," Minervamon said, stopping her companion with a firm hand on his shoulder.
Mercurymon looked at the creature with disdain. Gulfmon's malicious grin only suggested bad intentions.
"Thank you," Gulfmon said, staring at Minervamon before giving a slight bow. "I suppose you've come here looking for something. If it's a prisoner, you might as well give up: I'm all that's left, and I don't think I'm what you're searching for." He paused briefly. "If it's an object you're after… only me remain."
Minervamon nodded with interest, feeling a strange fascination with the dark figure. Marsmon, however, maintained a cautious distance. In his experience, creatures like this only sought their own gain.
"Do you know the location of the object we're searching for?" Mercurymon asked, eager to end the conversation. He had no trust in the Digimon.
"If you're referring to the Corona Code, yes, of course."
Mercurymon's eyes lit up for a moment.
"Tell us," the Olympian demanded.
"And what do I get in return?" asked the beast. "Will you set me free?"
"Only once you tell us where the Corona Code is, and we have it in our hands," Marsmon replied firmly. He had no intention of freeing him: once they knew the location and obtained the artifact, they would leave him there until the end of his days.
"And how do I know you'll keep your word?" Gulfmon asked mockingly.
"You'll just have to trust us," Marsmon quickly responded, crossing his arms.
"And why should I trust you and not the other way around? You're the ones who are more desperate..." the Digimon argued, his eyes gleaming with cunning.
Marsmon was running out of patience. He approached the invisible barrier separating him from the cell and stared into Gulfmon's eyes.
"How can we trust a prisoner who's been here for so long? You've surely committed all kinds of atrocities. If we set you free, we're doing you a favour: we're your only option to escape."
"And I'm your only option to find the Corona Code," Gulfmon replied, his grin widening.
Minervamon remained on guard, observing Gulfmon's every move. She didn't like the idea of dealing with such a dangerous Digimon, but she knew that sometimes risks had to be taken.
"We can reach an agreement," Minervamon finally said, trying to mediate. "But before we promise you anything, we need proof that you really know where the Corona Code is."
Gulfmon tilted his head, evaluating the three Olympians.
"I can give you a clue," he said slowly, "but it's not free. You'll have to give me something in return, even if it's just a promise of future freedom."
Mercurymon, Marsmon, and Minervamon exchanged glances. They knew they couldn't fully trust Gulfmon, but they couldn't ignore the opportunity to find the Corona Code.
"Give us the clue," Mercurymon finally said. "If it's valuable, we'll consider your freedom."
Gulfmon nodded, pleased.
"Look in the depths of the darkest room in this cell. There, you'll find what you seek. But remember, a promise is a promise. If you don't keep yours, I won't keep mine."
Marsmon struck the barrier with his fists, filled with rage. This game was leading nowhere. Gulfmon smiled maliciously. Minervamon watched Marsmon with concern, feeling the growing tension.
"Step aside," ordered the goddess, her voice firm, denoting authority.
Marsmon didn't understand what had just happened. He looked around, confused, until an explosion hit him full force, sending him flying backward. The echo of the impact resonated through the ancient prison, shaking dust from the ceilings.
Gulfmon emerged from his cell, the one in which he had been imprisoned for so many years. His gigantic, massive body stepped out of the shadows, stretching slowly to relieve the accumulated stiffness. His sharp claws flexed, and his purple fur gleamed with a sinister reflection in the dim light. He glanced toward where Marsmon was getting up from the ground, shaking off the dust and confusion.
"The barrier is much weaker outside the cell," the beast informed them, his deep voice resonating with a mix of mockery and triumph. "Thanks for making that little crack with your burst of anger, Marsmon. I've spent years weakening the barrier, but your attack was the final blow, so to speak."
Mercurymon stepped forward, his wolf mask hiding his frustration and distrust.
"Now that we've freed you, tell us where the Corona Code is," he demanded, his authoritative tone attempting to mask his unease.
"Are you referring to this?" Gulfmon said, as the large mouth on his torso opened wide. The sight was grotesque, with rows of sharp teeth and an abyssal darkness. He reached inside and pulled out a small, glowing artifact with gray edges and, at its centre, a green, forested image. "I've been guarding it for a long time. It was left with me as motivation to keep living—or perhaps as punishment for staying alive. I still need it. So, I'm not giving it to you. I'm leaving. Thank you for everything."
Gulfmon began to walk slowly toward the exit, his footsteps echoing ominously on the stone floor. He expected the Olympians to fall into his macabre game, savoring every moment of their desperation.
Marsmon rushed at him, determined to snatch the Corona Code from him. His fists ignited with fury, and he struck the ground hard, causing Gulfmon to pause. Mercurymon and Minervamon moved in to support him during the battle, but they knew Marsmon wouldn't let them intervene; for him, this was personal.
Gulfmon turned and watched as Marsmon glared at him, his eyes as fiery as his fists, his entire body almost completely engulfed in flames. Shadows danced around him, creating an intimidating aura.
However, Gulfmon was not worried. He had faced enemies as powerful, or even more so, than Marsmon and had emerged victorious. In fact, he had enjoyed defeating them. The smile on his face widened, revealing a row of sharp teeth.
"Do you really think you can stop me?" Gulfmon scoffed, his voice full of contempt. "You're just a pawn in a much bigger game than you can imagine."
Marsmon didn't respond. His flames burned even more intensely, reflecting his determination. Minervamon and Mercurymon remained on high alert, knowing that the upcoming confrontation would be crucial for their mission. The ancient prison, with its shadows and secrets, was about to become a battlefield.
Marsmon somersaulted in the air, positioning his fists like a hammer, and attempted to strike Gulfmon. With great reflexes, Gulfmon shifted slightly to the right, and Marsmon ended up hitting the ground, creating a large crater and causing the entire structure to tremble.
Gulfmon then seized the opportunity to unleash his attack. His large mouth opened, gathering dark energy. It had been a while since he used the powers of the Dark Area to his advantage, but he remembered perfectly how to do it. The massive ball of dark energy would have hit Marsmon's body if Mercurymon hadn't helped him dodge the attack. Although Marsmon wouldn't admit it, he greatly appreciated Mercurymon's help. Despite retaining his brute strength, age had taken away his agility and precision—two skills Mercurymon lacked none of.
"This isn't over," Marsmon growled, standing up and throwing another defiant look at Gulfmon.
Mercurymon and Minervamon prepared to intervene if necessary, while Marsmon, his fists still engulfed in flames, charged toward his adversary again. Gulfmon, smiling wickedly, readied himself for the next round, aware that this battle had only just begun.
Minervamon analyzed Gulfmon's precise and polished technique. He could store dark matter in his mouth, shape it, and launch it within milliseconds, using that ability to force the Olympians into a defensive stance. Minervamon stood behind a column, while Mercurymon moved frantically from side to side, trying to avoid the beast's attacks while dragging Marsmon along.
"When you're ready, Mercurymon, throw me at Gulfmon," Marsmon instructed his companion. "I'll know what to do."
Mercurymon couldn't help but smile. That technique was one of Marsmon's favorites in combat; he had executed it countless times, some of them alongside Mercurymon himself.
The Olympian nodded as he dodged another attack aimed at them. He abruptly changed direction, positioning himself behind Gulfmon. The beast tried to turn, but Mercurymon, using all his strength, propelled Marsmon forward. The Olympian shot through the air with such force that Gulfmon didn't have time to shield himself from the attack. Marsmon's flaming fist struck the creature's face, forcing him to stagger back a few meters.
Gulfmon looked at them, surprised: that attack had genuinely hurt him. Stumbling, he made his way toward where Minervamon stood.
"You've beaten me. Here," he said, extending his claw. In it, Minervamon could see the Corona Code.
The Olympian confidently approached to retrieve the artifact that had brought them there. She was so excited that she didn't even realize Gulfmon was preparing his final attack. Marsmon and Mercurymon ran to warn her, but it was too late: the Olympian reached out her hand, and another ball of dark energy struck her body, sending her flying to the end of the long hallway.
Her companions immediately rushed to tend to her. An attack like that, received without any protection at such close range, could be fatal.
Gulfmon bid farewell just as he had greeted them: with a sly smile and a bow. He had what he wanted—his long-awaited freedom, and no one was going to take it from him. He left them there, alone, tending to the wounded Minervamon.
The intensity of the battle had barely subsided, and the air still vibrated with the energy of the attacks. Minervamon, hurt but not defeated, opened her eyes with effort as her companions gathered around her.
"Are you alright?" Mercurymon asked, his voice filled with concern.
Minervamon nodded slightly, trying to sit up.
"I'm fine... but we can't let him take the Corona Code," she murmured, her eyes filled with determination.
Marsmon, still wrapped in flames, looked toward the direction Gulfmon had vanished. They couldn't afford to fail now.
"Let's go after him," Marsmon said firmly. "He hasn't gone far."
Mercurymon shook his head, examining the goddess, concerned. Her body was covered in bruises, some of them serious wounds, like the one on her side. She also had severe burns scattered across her body.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked Minervamon.
She didn't respond. Her gaze was distant, and she seemed on the verge of collapsing. Mercurymon felt a surge of anger mixed with helplessness. He knew Minervamon was strong, but seeing her in this state reminded him how fragile even the most powerful among them could be.
Marsmon, meanwhile, was caught in his own whirlwind of thoughts. The rage he felt toward Gulfmon was intense. He couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting his comrade so badly. No one harmed the Olympians without facing the consequences. In his mind, Gulfmon's face mingled with memories of past battles, of enemies who had underestimated his power and paid the price.
Mercurymon and Marsmon exchanged determined looks. They couldn't leave Minervamon in that condition. Gulfmon's audacity wouldn't go unpunished: no one harmed the Olympians without paying for it. Together, they lifted the now unconscious Minervamon. They had to get her to safety before her condition worsened.
"We need to find a safe place, quickly," Mercurymon said, his voice laced with worry and barely contained fury.
Marsmon nodded, his eyes fixed on the direction in which Gulfmon had disappeared. With each step they took, each passing second, his resolve grew stronger. This was no longer just a fight for the Corona Code; it had become personal.
"We can't let him get away with this, Mercurymon," Marsmon growled. "Not after this."
Mercurymon gritted his teeth and nodded. He shared his companion's sentiment. As they carried Minervamon to a safe place, both Olympians were forming a plan in their minds. They knew that to defeat Gulfmon, they had to work together, combining their strengths and skills.
Minervamon, though unconscious, was in their thoughts. They knew she would have wanted to keep fighting—not just for the Corona Code, but to prove that no one could underestimate the Olympians. The battle was far from over, and both Mercurymon and Marsmon were determined that, once Minervamon was safe, they would give their all to defeat Gulfmon and reclaim what was rightfully theirs.