(Author's Notes: Here we are! At long last, we're finally at Act IV. This means, we're officially in the final act of Holy War. Things are going to start to pick up as we gradually make our way towards the climax and conclusion. I think and hope you'll all enjoy it. Thanks so much for sticking with me! I hope you'll find it rewarding.

Anyways, here's the (probably) final Interlude (unless I end up having a few random scenes that don't fit anywhere else, haha.) This one's full chapter length. As always, read, review, and enjoy!)

Interlude: Act IV

"How the hell could this have happened?!"

Barbamon irately ground the butt of his staff into the stone cobbles below as he wrung the Death Lure between his tightly clenched hands, as if were a neck to be throttled.

Barbamon, Lucemon, Bagramon, Lilithmon, Demon, and Beelzebumon all stood in the courtyard outside of Castle Nocturne. News of the Royal Knights' escape had spread quickly once the castle guards realised what had happened. The Demon Lords had been informed immediately.

Since the bulk of the Demon Lords' legions were currently stationed around Shroud, it was down to Kowloon Company and the legion that attacked the Arcane Ruins with Lucemon and Bagramon to search the area for the escapees. Despite the effort being made, none of the Demon Lords felt confident that they would be able to recapture the escaped knights.

"You tell us, Barbamon," Demon accused him, his words cool and bitter with simmering annoyance. "It was your cockamamie idea to take them prisoner. I wanted to kill them on the spot."

"Jeez. Somebody really fucked up here, huh?" Beelzebumon innocently mused, his hands behind his head as he lay on the rim of the large fountain basin.

"The idea was sound! They were far more valuable temporarily alive!" Barbamon insisted, scowling at Demon. "It was the lackadaisical and buffoonish security around this place that was the cause of this debacle!" He immediately spun on his heel and pointed his staff at the nearby Evilmon servant who had informed him of the prison break. "You!"

The Evilmon blanched and shrunk back nervously, fearing that the Demon Lord would find some excuse to take his anger out of him. "Y-Yes, My Lord?"

"Where are the indolent dungeon guards who were on duty at the time?! I demand that you bring them here at once so that I can personally strangle them with their own spinal cords!" Barbamon angrily demanded.

The Evilmon wrung his tiny hands together and slowly inched backwards, out of the range of Barbamon's staff. "Erm… The thing is… They're all dead, My Lord!" he informed him.

Barbamon blinked. "…Oh," he anti-climactically answered, the wind having been somewhat taken out of his sails. "…Well, good! It serves them right for such careless buffoonery! I hope they took a one way trip to the Dark Area – there's a special place for them in the Circle of Sloth! Honestly… it's so hard to find good guards these days."

Lucemon stood with his arms folded, though appearing only mildly annoyed by the unfortunate developments. "The sheer incompetence is astounding," he said aloud as his finger rhythmically tapped his bicep. "You had two Royal Knights and you lost them, Barbamon."

"It was Count NeoDevimon's lousy guards!" Barbamon insisted irately. "I did everything right! It was those hopeless oafs who let my plans down! Rubes, the lot of them! Rubes!"

"I suggested that we kill them," Demon reminded them smugly, folding his arms with annoyance. "A bird in the hand is worth two in a pie."

"Yes, yes! You said that already, Demon!" Barbamon angrily snapped back at him. "Even a meat-headed ignoramus can seem like a genius in hindsight!"

"Who are you calling an ignoramus, Barbamon?" Demon wondered.

"Think he's calling you one, Dede," Beelzebumon pointed out with an impish smirk, all too happy to stir the pot.

Demon glared coolly at Barbamon. "One shouldn't throw stone houses at glass lest his own stone be shattered," he agitatedly countered.

"At least I can string an idiom together, you idiot!" Barbamon fired back as he rubbed his temples with frustration.

"Now, now, everyone," Lilithmon spoke up as she walked in between the circle of Demon Lords. "While, it's true that Barbamon made a terrible error in judgement by not having the castle better secured and it's entirely his fault that two of our prisoners have escaped…"

"Hey!" he protested.

"…there is no point on dwelling on the past. We should focus on the gains that we have made and continue with our plans with gusto," Lilithmon continued, placing her hands on her hips.

Bagramon nodded in agreement. "Lilithmon is right. We must focus on the future. Given these events, we should double the security around our other prisoner for the moment. I will have Kowloon Company provide security, as they are professionals in that area," Bagramon suggested, turning his head and looking down the road to the cathedral. "I suppose we should be fortunate that we placed him in there instead of the dungeons."

Lucemon sighed and turned to Barbamon and Demon. "How did your endeavours in our southern campaign bode? How much progress have we made?"

"Fairly good," Barbamon explained, his ring-adorned fingers tapping against his staff. "We captured Shroud essentially without resistance. We continued our advance south towards Saversburg, but, before we could reach the city, we came across the Royal Knights and most of their band of tin cans, who seemed to be launching a counter-offensive against us. While that encounter prevented us from capturing Saversburg in one fell swoop, we were able to release Belphemon from his Sleep Mode state and defeat two Royal Knights. The rest retreated back to Saversburg."

"Unfortunately, that means that Saversburg will be expecting us," Demon noted. "However, their defences are substantially weaker than what we faced in New Terminal. Even with the Royal Knights supplementing them, I am confident that we can capture Saversburg as they are now."

Lucemon nodded with calm authority. "Then we shall push our advance with the utmost haste. The timing is right," he determined.

"And as for you?" Barbamon questioned. "I'm guessing you were able to capture the ruins. What did you find out? Was there any treasure?"

"The most valuable treasure of all: information," Lucemon answered with a superior smirk.

"…Yes, but was there any real treasure," Barbamon dryly probed.

Lucemon shot him a look. "No, but what we have discovered is far greater than any measly piece of gold. With the knowledge that we have, victory is all but assured."

"There is far too much to go over now," Bagramon added. "However, we found what we set out to find: the location of the Kernel."

"And? Where is it?" Lilithmon inquired with mild interest.

Bagramon looked at Lucemon and nodded. "…After we capture Saversburg, we must head southwest to the Chasm of Creation. That is where the gateway to the Kernel is located," he explained. "Due to the treacherous terrain of the Primal Mountains, we will likely need to pass through the Neutral Zone."

"Excellent. We can burn the heathen tree on our way to destroy God. It is the natural progression," Demon decided. "And what of the Sky Colonies? When can we invade them once and for all?"

"Seraphimon is our prisoner and Cherubimon is dead," Lucemon explained with a triumphant smile. "Ophanimon will be lost. Once we destroy God, the Sky Colonies will crumble under a gentle breeze."

"Hrm…" Barbamon murmured, eyeing Lucemon out of the corner of his eye. "Wait… Cherubimon is dead? How the hell did that happen?!"

"He was slain by Seraphimon himself," Lucemon answered with a soft laugh. "The Three Great Angels are no more. That unbreakable triangle at the apex of the Choir has shattered from within, crushed under the weight of their own bloated hypocrisy."

"Cherubimon – dead…" Demon muttered, tightly squeezing his fists. "I would have liked to be the one to burn him asunder within my righteous wrath."

"Bah! What a waste of a possession," Barbamon scoffed, stamping his staff a little. "But oh well. As long as it means two of the angels are out of the equation."

"Now all that's left is her," Lilithmon spoke with distaste. "Poor, dear Ophanimon… Now she has nobody left to depend on. We should just put her out of her misery… I would love nothing more, actually…"

"In time," Bagramon answered. "With their leadership in disarray, we have no idea how the Heavenly Choir will react now. They may go on the defensive or they may continue their aggressive stance. They could even attack here directly in desperation, if they think that Seraphimon is here. Perhaps they may chase after us and attack us while we aren't expecting it again."

"If that happens, we will burn the Sky Colonies down once and for all," Demon spoke with unwavering resolve.

"In time, yes, we will demolish the empty clouds and decadent marble of those unctuous fools. However, we cannot worry about them now when we have more pressing matters in front of us," Lucemon explained. "They will likely be licking their wounds. We will deal with them when the time is right."

Barbamon nodded. "Yes. Our priority now is solidifying our gains and capturing the strategic city of Saversburg. From there, we will have the trade route to New Terminal secure, as well as a launching pad to advance into the Neutral Zone and the Chasm of Creation," he calculatingly explained.

"Fine by me," Beelzebumon decided boredly. "As long as the Royal Knights are gonna be there."

"We should move south as soon as possible, before the Royal Knights have the chance to reinforce," Barbamon suggested.

"We shall reconvene and travel south come morning, then," Lucemon declared. "First, we should see if our guest is awake."

Bagramon nodded and eyed the cathedral that stood in partial ruins down the road, basked in the soft caress of moonlight. "Yes… I would very much like to speak to him."

"As would I," Demon concurred, his indigo eyes tightening into dark slits.

"Eh, you guys go ahead," Beelzebumon decided, waving his hand dismissively as he rose to a standing position. "Behemoth needs a polish. She gets moody if she gets mud stuck in her axels."

"And I have many things that I need to plan," Barbamon exclaimed. "I'll gloat at him later."

"He was still unconscious the last time that I checked…" Lilithmon mused, apathetically inspecting the back of her Nazar Nail. "The toxin that I gave him knocked him out quite hard. I doubt he will die any time soon, but he should be rendered in too much agony to function properly. The rot will eat away at even one as holy as him."

"Well, then. Let's go see," Lucemon said, already beginning to walk down the road that led from the courtyard to the cathedral.

The long, gnarled fingers of Bagramon's wooden fist creaked lightly as he gazed towards the place where their prisoner was being kept.

"Yes…" he agreed. "Let's."

Duftmon stood at the edge of the military encampment on the northern outskirts of Saversburg. The combined armies of the Royal Knights and Saversburg pulled their camp back a kilometer so that they were positioned behind one of the small rivers created by the Sky Waterfalls of the area.

The Royal Knights' tactician positioned himself on top of the earth embankment, overlooking the sediment-tinted stream. His green eyes stared watchfully into the distance, trying to see through the morning mist. He watched and waited… quietly hoping that he would see the team return with the two intact.

Duftmon stood silently and alone. He thought to himself… about the current situation, about the battle that went wrong, about various contingencies and alternatives he might need in order to salvage the situation… and about the possibility that the rescue team could be unsuccessful.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think about that, although he recognised that there was a chance that he would have to. He was a realist through-and-through, so he had to prepare himself for the possibility that the worst case scenario might have taken place.

Duftmon opened his eyes a little and he gazed pensively at the rushing stream below him. He watched as the strong currents from the base of the waterfall flowed powerfully and erratically, rushing without any heed for anything in its way, merely travelling the path of least resistance.

He never really liked water. Although he recognised its worth, it always bothered him how it could never be controlled. It could only ever be channelled… diverted. He felt as though he was unduly at the mercy of such an unyielding part of nature. He much preferred the solid land and its steady predictability.

Duftmon sighed. As he reflected on these niggling feelings of unease, he questioned if he was too typical of a Digimon of the earth element. He began to wonder if he was too rigid… too inflexible. He knew for a fact that he had a brilliant mind for tactics and strategy, so he attempted to understand why he had lost yet again. He refused to believe that it was merely because Barbamon was a better strategist than him. That was too simplistic and illogical for him to accept.

His hand tightened on the hilt of the rapier that hung from his hip. For as furious as he had been at Magnamon and Craniamon for disobeying his orders, he now found himself unable to blame them completely for the failure. As the acting commander of the Royal Knights, Duftmon realised that the responsibility ultimately lay at his feet. He knew that he should have been able to keep them in line…

Duftmon thought hard about the battle… His tactics were undeniably sound – he was certain of that. Then… was it merely that his leadership was poor? The tactician wondered if there was anything that he could have done to keep Magnamon and Craniamon in line. They had insisted on playing an active role in the battle, but Duftmon was certain that he had been tactically correct in assigning them to support positions. He wondered what he was supposed to have done – was he supposed to just defer to their whims merely because they wanted to fight? It was illogical to him.

Duftmon grimaced faintly. He was certain that he was right… Yet… if he had allowed them to fight as they wanted, would they still have rushed off so brazenly? Had he side-lined them too much? Had he been too dismissive of their needs?

As he pondered, Duftmon couldn't help but be reminded of his conversation with Alphamon after his defeat in the Mamemon Kingdom…

"They have personalities, styles, methodologies, preferences… They might not always match up with your own views," Alphamon's voice resonated in his mind. "You do have to take those variables into account…"

"I have thought about you a lot. I have thought about each and every one of you, Duftmon," he recalled Alphamon saying to him. "It's my responsibility to come to understand you all…"

Duftmon sighed and looked down at his outstretched palm. "Variables…" he quietly considered, his gaze softening. "What would you have done, Alphamon? Would this have happened to you if you were in my position…? I must know…"

"Duftmon," a deep, calm voice spoke up from behind him. "Am I interrupting?"

Duftmon nearly jumped, but he was able to avoid any outward show of surprise. He smoothly turned on his heel and swirled around to stare at the Digimon behind him. Tactimon was standing behind him, eyeing his fellow tactician questioningly.

"…Hmph. Well, you have already interrupted, so asking such a foolish question is self-defeating," Duftmon brusquely replied, huffily folding his arms.

"My apologies, then. …Is something on your mind?" Tactimon wondered, folding his arms as he inspected the feline knight. "Knowing you, I doubt that you are merely enjoying the view."

"I am merely pondering the situation at hand," Duftmon swiftly deflected. He pivoted towards the samurai and eyed Tactimon coolly. "And what of you, Tactimon? How did your meeting with the Mayor proceed?"

Tactimon's yellow eyes narrowed faintly. "I will be frank, Duftmon; you will not be pleased," he calmly explained.

"…Tell me," Duftmon demanded.

Tactimon nodded. "Very well… The Mayor is seriously considering a pre-emptive evacuation of Saversburg as well as the potential surrender of the city to the Demon Lords, should they advance on the city," he informed him. "He believes that Saversburg cannot survive a siege. He says that he does not want to see destruction in the city like that seen in New Terminal, and that it would be better for the civilians and the military to flee south."

"That is preposterous! To surrender Saversburg without a fight… That would be a strategic boon for the Demon Lords of immense proportions," Duftmon protested.

"I agree, and I attempted to convince him of the strategic merits of remaining here," Tactimon methodically explained. "However… he was not without a sound argument. If the full might of the Demon Lord army were to attack, would we be able to resist them as we are now?" Tactimon looked Duftmon in the eyes. "Three or four Royal Knights, and our two numerically inferior armies against at least four Demon Lords? We cannot be certain that they have not regrouped, and the rest of your Royal Knights will not be arriving at any time soon. Perhaps there is some merit in ceding territory in order to buy time."

"That is…" Duftmon winced faintly as he considered Tactimon's suggestion. As much as he detested the idea of doing so, it was an option that he had briefly considered himself. "…an option. It is not without its own risks, however."

"I understand that well… However, the mayor is quite determined, and when it comes to the affairs of the city, I cannot overrule him," Tactimon explained. "It should be something that we consider seriously… for our hands may be forced regardless."

"I will give it some thought…" Duftmon conceded with a brooding frown.

Tactimon nodded, although his eyes remained inquisitively fixed on Duftmon. He was about to ask him a question, but a deep, booming voice yelled out from the camp before he could.

"HEY! Duftmon!" Dynasmon called out to him boisterously.

"Noisy lizard…" Duftmon muttered with an exasperated sigh. He turned towards Dynasmon with a flat, irritated expression. "Yes? What is it?"

"Get over here! You need to see this!" Dynasmon yelled, waving his arm.

"See what?" Duftmon impatiently demanded, beginning to calmly stride over.

"They're back!"

The words stopped Duftmon in his tracks. With wide eyes, he spun in the direction that Dynasmon was pointing.

To his shock, he saw the rescue team emerge through the mist. As the figures became clearer as they walked into camp, he quickly took stock of their ranks. All of the team were accounted for… and the gold and violet forms of Magnamon and Craniamon were with them.

For the briefest of moments upon realising that they were alright, Duftmon felt his heart jump. His tense shoulders slackened, and he released a breath that he hadn't realised that he had been holding.

For whatever emotions he might have been feeling, Duftmon swiftly caught himself, and he took on a cold and stern demeanour. The strategist began striding across the grass and towards the edge of the camp, where a small crowd of soldiers was gathering around them.

As Dynasmon and RhodoKnightmon gathered around the team along with several soldiers, Duftmon marched straight over to them with a furious glare in his eyes.

"Magnamon, darling! I've been so worried!" RhodoKnightmon exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "Craniamon! Don't you ever do something like that again!"

"Urk. Sorry, Rhodo…" the wincing Magnamon awkwardly replied as he was hugged and nearly lifted off his feet by the rose knight.

"I don't know whether to punch you or kiss you," Dynasmon proclaimed with a hearty laugh, throwing his arm around Craniamon's neck.

"I'd rather the punch," Craniamon dryly answered, though he looked away sheepishly.

As Duftmon approached, nervous whispers suddenly spread among the group of soldiers when they caught sight of the stern expression on the tactician's face. They suddenly opened up a path for the Royal Knight and began to return to the camp, allowing Duftmon a direct path to the returned Royal Knights.

"Uh oh. You're in for it now," Dynasmon murmured as he saw Duftmon approach, pre-emptively moving away from Craniamon and Magnamon to get out of the line of fire.

"Now, Duftmon," RhodoKnightmon tentatively began, seeing the state that he was in. "You can still rebuke them—"

"I intend to," Duftmon sharply interrupted, marching straight up to the two wounded Royal Knights and stopping right in front of them. "You fools! I have never seen such a brazen display of selfishness and insubordination! Have you any idea how dangerous that was?! You both could have been killed! In fact, it is nothing short of a miracle that the pair of you managed to escape with your lives!"

Craniamon shuffled defensively and continued glancing away. "…Well… he is the knight of miracles," the shield knight dryly murmured.

Duftmon whipped towards him with a glare at Craniamon that was akin to acidic daggers. "Do you find this amusing? Because of your reckless behaviour, we were forced to retreat and the pair of you were taken prisoner. Fortunately, nobody was killed because of your idiocy, and only your dignities are in tatters. And do not forget that the only reason that you are here now is because of the bravery of UlforceVeedramon and these Rooks," Duftmon sharply chastised them, gesturing emphatically to the Rooks around them. "So think carefully before you dare to diminish the situation that you both caused."

Magnamon grimaced and looked down with guilt for a moment. "We're not, Duftmon, really…" he meekly explained, looking up at Craniamon beside him.

Wincing, Craniamon nodded as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah…" he mutedly agreed, glancing back at Magnamon.

The two Royal Knights nodded, and, in unison, they both dropped to a knee and bowed their heads before Duftmon in contrition.

"We're truly sorry…" they both said with sincerity and humility.

"I disobeyed orders and went deep into enemy lines because I felt I wanted to win the battle to make up for my mistakes," Magnamon regretfully explained.

"And I broke ranks because I was desperate to fight a Demon Lord," Craniamon replied with an embarrassed grimace. "We know we were selfish and reckless."

"We let our emotions get the best of us and we put ourselves ahead of everybody else. We make no excuses and we have nobody to blame but ourselves," Magnamon continued. "We won't let it happen again, Duftmon."

"I…" Duftmon's eye twitched and his angry exterior faltered with shock. He was taken off guard by their sudden and unexpected displays of honest humility. This was not what he had anticipated.

After a moment of losing his cold composure, Duftmon quickly collected himself. "Ahem… W-Well, so long as you don't," Duftmon huffily replied, folding his arms and sheepishly glancing away from them. "Hmph… Honestly, that was the height of stupidity. Neither of you had any regard for my orders as battlefield commander…"

Magnamon placed his hand on UlforceVeedramon's arm so that he could pull himself to his feet, wincing as he did so. When he was standing, he offered Duftmon a weak but honest smile. "I know… We won't disobey your orders again, Duftmon."

"Yeah…" Craniamon replied, slowly rising to his feet and fighting back a pained grimace as well. "On my honour as a Royal Knight."

"Hmph… Very well," Duftmon reluctantly agreed, still standing with folded arms and a tapping foot. "I suppose that that is the least that you can do."

After a few moments of contemplation, Duftmon glanced down, his posture softening slightly. He unfolded his arms and placed one hand on his hip. "Additionally…" he hesitantly begun, taking in subtle breath. "…In the future, I shall attempt to be more willing to hear your opinions about tactical positioning so that we may have a productive exchange of ideas about prospective battlefield tactics."

Both Magnamon and Craniamon blinked, exchanging stunned looks. "…Huh?" Craniamon asked, dumbfounded by what sounded to him like a roundabout sort of concession, almost unheard of from the Royal Knights' strategist. "…Did I hear that right?"

"Really?" Magnamon asked, still blinking with surprise.

"Wait, you will?" Dynasmon piled on, also unable to believe his ears. "Are you… feeling okay?"

"'A positive exchange of ideas'?" UlforceVeedramon added, a broad smirk growing on his face. "Duftmon… I might have misunderstood that word salad, but were you just… considerate?"

"I… I believe that he was," RhodoKnightmon answered, just as stunned as the others. He walked over and made to check his temperature. "Duftmon, honey, are you feeling quite yourself?"

Duftmon immediately spun around, quickly turning his back to them as his cheeks began to turn red on his glaring face. "…Silence, you fools," he commanded them, his aura immediately turning frigid and dangerous once again.

Magnamon smiled a bit and turned to UlforceVeedramon and the Rooks. "And thank you all for coming after us. It was a dangerous rescue, but we appreciate it," he thanked them.

"Merely doing our duty, Sir," Baalmon answered, bowing respectfully.

"Just don't make a habit of it," GrandisKuwagamon teased him before walking off to find VictoryGreymon and Paildramon.

"Yeah, you better not," UlforceVeedramon said with a grin, although there was still a part of him that was a little annoyed with them, which he channelled into playfully poking Magnamon's snout. "I don't want to have to come after your scaly butt again, you hear?"

Magnamon weakly swatted his hand away, though the motion caused a spike of pain through his body. "Urgh… You won't…" he promised, grinning back a little despite his pain. "I'll be saving you next time, Ulforce."

"Oh, right… we brought somebody with us," Craniamon spoke up, glancing over his shoulder.

At this, the short form of Wizardmon awkwardly stepped out from behind Baalmon. He shyly looked at the Royal Knights, fretfully fidgeting with the collar of his cloak.

"A Wizardmon?" RhodoKnightmon wondered.

"Wizardmon asked to come with us, fearing for his life," Magnamon explained. "He was working with Bagramon against his will. He was the one who sent us some useful information."

"Yes, I recall Alphamon mentioning that fact," Duftmon concurred, frowning as he cast his scrutinizing eyes on the apprehensive mage. "Very well. We cannot exactly bring him on campaign with us, so I will think about what to do with him."

Wizardmon gulped a little at the ominous wording, but he nodded gratefully. "Um, th-thank you…"

His hands on his hips, RhodoKnightmon turned to the two returned Royal Knights, inspecting them concern. He could see bruises and cuts on the parts of their body that weren't covered with armour. "My, just how badly injured are you both? I mean no offence, but you both look dreadful."

"I feel dreadful, if I'm honest," Magnamon admitted with a wince. "It was hard just walking here."

"Can't say for sure…" Craniamon answered as he used his spear to prop himself up. "Think I've got a couple broken ribs…"

"Then you should sit down at once!" RhodoKnightmon exclaimed, attempting to usher them into a sitting position.

Before he could get them to sit, the presence of a black raven man suddenly appeared nearby. Rather than surprise Dynasmon, like he normally enjoyed doing, Karatenmon made his approach obvious.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, everyone," Karatenmon spoke up. As the Royal Knights turned to look at him, they could see the serious expression on his normally relaxed face. "There's something else that you need to see…"

UlforceVeedramon's face flattened into a worried frown when he saw the grave look on Karatenmon's face. "…That sounds ominous, Karatenmon."

"What is it?" Duftmon urgently inquired, walking forwards to meet the spymaster.

Karatenmon turned and gestured across river and out to the northern fields, looking into the misty sky. The shadows of three figures could be seen through the mist, becoming clearer by the moment. "MailBirdramon spotted them while on patrol," Karatenmon explained.

The six Royal Knights all stared at the spot in the sky where Karatenmon was pointing. The rigid wing span of one of them was unmistakeably that of MailBirdramon, who was escorting the other two towards the camp. The two shadowy figures had recognisable silhouettes as well… One was a big dragon, and the other was a six-legged horse…

"It's Examon and Sleipmon…"

The six knights all reacted with surprise and confusion.

"What?" Dynasmon asked. "They're back from the ruins already?"

Duftmon narrowed his eyes, his posture tightening as he looked up towards the incoming pair. "What? It is too soon…" he murmured, a pit of worry already forming in his stomach.

"And also…" Karatenmon added direly. "They're in bad shape."

The six Royal Knights watched as MailBirdramon guided the two returning knights out of the fog. As soon as they were close enough, they could finally understand why they were back.

The two bestial Royal Knights flew at speeds considered sluggish for the aerodynamic pair. They soon saw the reason.

Sleipmon's arm and legs were covered with dark, congealed blood and his armour was dented and scorched in several places. His arms hung at his sides, and his head was bowed listlessly.

Examon was hardly in any better shape. His wings, shoulder, and legs were all coated in mostly-dried blood as well. His wings limped weakly in their flight, just enough to keep him aloft. It was a shocking sight to behold. Their wounds looked dire and they both carried the ominous aura of defeat.

"Sleipmon! Examon!" Dynasmon shouted out with worry. He dashed towards them as they descended towards the group.

"Damn it. They look worse than we do…" Craniamon muttered, unable to do anything but watch as they decelerated in front of them.

"They need medical attention," RhodoKnightmon exclaimed as he gazed with concern at the two knights who were nearing the ground in front of them.

"Hey! Are you guys alright?!" UlforceVeedramon called out to them, running over with clear anxiety and concern.

Duftmon strode to the fore, approaching Examon and Sleipmon as they landed on the ground. "What in the Digital World happened?" he asked them, noting the dire appearances of the two Royal Knights close up. "What is the state of the Arcane Ruins?"

Examon gently touched down on the ground, grimacing as he was forced to put weight on his wounded leg, yet glad for relief to his stinging wings. He propped himself against the Ambrosius and looks over at Sleipmon hesitantly, unsure if he should say anything or allow Sleipmon to do it.

He was unsure if Sleipmon was up to the responsibility of telling the Royal Knights about what had happened, but he wanted to wait for a cue before stepping on his hooves. "Er…" Examon began, deciding that he should take the pressure off of his grieving friend.

"The Arcane Ruins are lost," Sleipmon bluntly responded before Examon could get a word in. Sleipmon touched down on the ground, his bloody, wounded legs trembling under his weight as they threatened to buckle from pain. He winced, but forced himself to walk ahead on his own, passing by the Royal Knights without so much as a look.

"We failed… I failed," Sleipmon dejectedly informed them. He continued walking past them, looking down as he tried to put some distance between himself and them. "I'm sorry."

"Sleipmon…?" Magnamon asked, watching with worry as Sleipmon passed by them with barely a word. It was clear to him that he wasn't his usual self.

"…What? What do you mean? Sleipmon?" Duftmon inquired, attempting to illicit more of an answer from the equestrian knight. However, when it was clear that Sleipmon didn't intend to elaborate, Duftmon turned to look at Examon for an explanation. "Examon, report what happened."

Examon winced faintly and looked at Duftmon and the other Royal Knights. "The night before last, we reached the Arcane Ruins in the Cathode Tundra. However, when we arrived, Lucemon, Lilithmon, and Bagramon were already there with the legion of Nightmare Soldiers that Leviamon spoke of, as well as a Breakdramon mercenary who was excavating the ruins from the ice," Examon calmly and methodically explained. "However, they were not the only ones…"

"What do you mean?" Duftmon inquired with a perplexed dip in his brows.

"I don't know how… but the Demon Lords were somehow able to corrupt Cherubimon and cause him to 'fall' into a being known as Cherubimon Vice," Examon dourly informed them. "It was somewhat similar to the Omegamon Zwart situation, but… also different."

"What?" Duftmon demanded, the grip around his sword hilt tightening. "You mean to tell me… that they warped Cherubimon to their cause?"

"That cannot be…" RhodoKnightmon murmured, his voice becoming low and serious. He turned and gazed over at Sleipmon, watching as the red-armoured knight came to a stop alone, several meters behind them.

"That's not all…" Examon explained. "Sleipmon and I were at a disadvantage against four powerful Ultimate level Digimon… but then the Heavenly Choir showed up under the direct leadership of Seraphimon and Ophanimon. However… although their timely intervention likely prevented our total defeat, it still wasn't enough to turn the tide of battle in our favour. Sleipmon and I were both too badly wounded to put up much of a fight. It came down to a fight between the Three Great Angels…"

Examon paused and glanced over at Sleipmon with a guilty wince. "…In the end, we couldn't break the corruption consuming Cherubimon, and Seraphimon was forced to kill him."

"What…?" Duftmon exclaimed, his eyes widening with alarm. "Cherubimon is dead…?"

"That's terrible," UlforceVeedramon replied, wincing.

Dynasmon tightened his fists and grimaced. "Damn it…"

Magnamon immediately looked over at Sleipmon with pained sympathy. "Sleipmon…"

Sleipmon remained quiet as he stood with his back to the Royal Knights. Although he made no visible reaction, he remained in earshot.

Examon sighed through his nostrils and turned back to Duftmon. "In addition to that… Seraphimon was badly wounded by Lilithmon, and he was captured by the Demon Lords. Before anybody could do anything, Bagramon threw him through a portal, likely back to the Demon Lords' headquarters."

"Seraphimon was captured as well?" Duftmon direly questioned. He raised a hand to stroke his chin as he gazed down at the ground, deep in thought.

"But…" Craniamon spoke up, looking at UlforceVeedramon and Magnamon with confusion. "We didn't see Seraphimon in the dungeons."

"Maybe they held him somewhere else…" Magnamon suggested. "Come to think of it, Barbamon mentioned there being somebody else…"

Examon paused. He had questions about why Magnamon and Craniamon would know about the Demon Lords' dungeons, but he decided to save them for later. "Well… because of that, we, along with Ophanimon and her forces, were forced to retreat," Examon grimly explained. "By that point, we had no choice but to give up the Arcane Ruins…"

"The Arcane Ruins…" Wizardmon whispered, his eyes wide as he thought about what this meant. "So Bagramon was successful…"

Duftmon glowered as he reflected on what this meant for them. His fingers curled tightly around the Shoumetsu no Tsurugi's hilt. "The Demon Lords have captured the Arcane Ruins… This is an unmitigated disaster…" he spoke, his voice almost a distant whisper.

"…I'm sorry," Examon apologised, gazing down at the ground with shame. "I allowed the objective to fall into the enemies' hands."

At this, Sleipmon finally turned around and stared at Examon with cool and aloof eyes. "No… It isn't your fault," he firmly told him. "The Arcane Ruins were my responsibility. I should have protected them… I should have defeated Cherubimon myself…"

"Sleipmon…" Dynasmon sadly said, going over and placing his hand on the centaur knight's back. "I'm so sorry, buddy."

"It's quite clear that you both did everything that you could have," RhodoKnightmon stated, gesturing to their bloodied and beaten bodies. "While this is an extremely unfortunate outcome, there is no blame to lay at your feet. It is clear that you were just in a disadvantageous situation, to say the least. Isn't that correct, Duftmon?"

Duftmon rubbed his temples irately and he released a prolonged sigh that was supposed to have been calming, but only ended up sounding exacerbated.

"…Yes…" he responded, trying to compose himself after hearing about the grave news. "It is clear that there was much working against you all in that battle. However, I expect to read about it in detail after you write your reports…" Duftmon paused, noting RhodoKnightmon's urging look, and he glanced over at Sleipmon. "…I mean... when it is convenient to do so, rather."

UlforceVeedramon sighed and rubbed his horned head. The mood had suddenly turned very bleak.

"So… What should we do now?" he questioned. He didn't know what to say apart from attempting to establish what their next move would be. It was a question that was on most of their minds.

Duftmon released a slow exhale and he closed his eyes meditatively. "First and foremost…" he began, turning to the Royal Knights. His stern, unrelenting stare fixed upon Sleipmon, Examon, Magnamon, and Craniamon respectively. "The four of you must return to Castle Avalion for treatment. Your wounds are too severe for field treatment, and you will be of no use here in your current states."

Duftmon folded his arms strictly. "And before I hear any objections, this is not a request. It is an order," he maintained in no uncertain terms. "After you receive basic field dressings, I want you to board the next Locomon to Gold Keep. I shall accompany you so that none of you attempt to escape or perish during the journey."

"Very well," Examon agreed without complaint.

"Yes, Duftmon," Magnamon conceded with a sigh.

"Tch… Fine," Craniamon grunted albeit very reluctantly.

Sleipmon remained quiet, consumed by his thoughts, though he made no indication of resistance.

"Oh, and one other point of note," Duftmon spoke, swiftly turning to Wizardmon. "Wizardmon, you will come with us as well."

Upon being addressed, Wizardmon immediately straightened up. "Y-Yes, Sir," he stammered, a little relieved at not having to stay around with the army. As far as we was concerned, the further away he was from the Demon Lords, the better.

"Wait… You're going with them, Duftmon?" UlforceVeedramon questioned with surprise. "You're leaving the front line?"

"Yes…" Duftmon calmly and methodically responded. "In light of these inopportune contemporaneous events, I must return to Castle Avalion to confer with Alphamon about our strategy going forwards. I must tell him what has happened, and I must learn what Yggdrasil's directives are. In addition, we will require the rest of the Royal Knights going forwards, with all likelihood. The Demon Lords are growing stronger by the day, and their momentum is increasing, so we must be at our full strength collectively."

"What about us?" Dynasmon wondered, gesturing to himself, RhodoKnightmon and UlforceVeedramon. "And the military?"

"I will leave the leadership of the army to you three in my absence," Duftmon informed them. "I hope not to be gone long, but sufficient time will be required for these four to recover. I estimate our absence to be within a week, at the latest."

"What if the Demon Lords attack?" Dynasmon inquired.

"If they do… " Duftmon paused and a reflective frown formed on his face. "…Do not engage in a battle if you do not feel certain that you can win."

RhodoKnightmon gazed at Duftmon with cool logic. "You mean to say… give up Saversburg?" he pointedly asked.

Duftmon nodded pragmatically. "General Tactimon says that the mayor is already considering surrendering it should the Demon Lords advance," he informed them. "If that should be the case and the odds seem overwhelming enough… then you should retreat alongside the Saversburg Army. Work with them and regroup at a strategically defensible position."

"…Surrender Saversburg?" UlforceVeedramon exclaimed, almost unable to believe what he was hearing.

"But that's…" Craniamon grimaced. "Are you suggesting that we run from the Demon Lords? To give up the city to them?"

"Victory without the Saversburg military and a sufficient number of Royal Knights present to help is unlikely," Duftmon coolly informed him. "Sometimes in warfare, one must cede ground in order to increase the probability of victory in the long term. This is one of those times. A full evacuation of the city will precipitate such an occurrence."

"That is a distasteful idea… but one that may ultimately prove necessary," RhodoKnightmon agreed with a sigh. "Very well, Duftmon. We shall bear that in mind and see what the Demon Lords do."

"Good. Err on the side of caution," Duftmon maintained, turning to look at Dynasmon and UlforceVeedramon, "you two, especially."

UlforceVeedramon grinned uneasily and rubbed the back of his head. "Heh, yeah… We will, we promise. You guys just make sure you're not gone too long."

"Yeah. Get better fast," Dynasmon added, turning to the four injured knights. "We need you back fighting fit."

"We'll do our best," Examon assured him with a brief nod.

Duftmon looked around at the seven other Royal Knights. "Very well then. Have those wounds tended to and then meet me at the southern edge of the camp so that we may proceed to Saversburg," the tactician informed the four. "There is no time to waste."

He watched as the seven Royal Knights began to walk off. Dynasmon walked over to place his hand on Sleipmon's back to both help him walk and offer them sympathy. UlforceVeedramon assisted Examon in walking, while RhodoKnightmon and Captain Knightmon did the same with Magnamon and Craniamon respectively. Meanwhile, Wizardmon uncertainly followed the group as well, feeling more comfortable around them than he did around Duftmon.

As soon as the seven knights departed for the field hospital, Duftmon allowed himself a brief moment of frustration. He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his temples with irritation.

The Arcane Ruins captured… The Three Great Angels in disarray… And now he had to seriously consider giving up his home city of Saversburg to the Demon Lords without a fight. Although he couldn't afford to be pessimistic in front of the others, let alone his subordinates, Duftmon was well aware that the momentum of the war was currently in the Demon Lords' favour. He bitterly hoped that Alphamon had better news.

He had to meet with Alphamon. They had to find a way to change that. He knew that they couldn't allow the Demon Lords to continue their southern advance unimpeded. They had to reverse their fortunes somehow…

Duftmon released a long, exacerbated sigh as he attempted to deal with the burden that lay heavy on his shoulders. Although things looked bleak for them at the moment, he refused to give in. On his pride as the Royal Knights' Chief Strategist, he was determined to lead them to victory.

Duftmon looked up with calm, level-headed resolve, refusing to allow any emotions to dictate his thinking. He walked ahead, well aware of what he had to do.

"So… the situation is so dire that I must resort to this…" Duftmon thought to himself. His emerald eyes sharpened and he strode forwards unwavering.

The haze of darkness began to clear as he slowly regained consciousness. A dim, orange light began to permeate his blurry, uneven vision.

At first, he could hardly see. Everything was still dark, with only a few flickers of orange illumination within the darkness, like will-o'-the-wisps in the night. He felt unusual – his mind's eye wasn't clear like it usually was. And as for his body…

His whole body ached with immeasurable pain. The lacerations, the burns, and the bruises he sustained from battle… he began to feel their collective aches ignite as he drifted out of unconsciousness. There was one place in particular that burned with excruciating pain – his side, where he had been stabbed, first by Cherubimon and then by Lilithmon. It wasn't just his flesh and muscles, though; the inside of his body felt like it was burning with a numbing fire, and he felt as though his blood itself was boiling and rebelling against him.

Seraphimon let out a deep, resonant groan and he tried to move. He felt strange… He couldn't feel any ground beneath him. Through his pain, he could only feel tightness and resistance around his limbs.

Seraphimon's vision became a little clearer and he attempted to look at his body, which he attempted to wriggle again. He glanced down, and to his shock, he saw that heavy chains were wrapped around his body.

His arms were outspread horizontally to the sides, the chains coiled around his biceps and wrists. More chains were wrapped around his chest and upper body, interlocking under his shoulders and keeping his ten, celestial wings pinned painfully to his back.

The tight, sturdy chains continued coiling downwards, wrapping around his waist and the lengths of his legs, pinning them together down to his ankles. Several chains that restrained his arms and chest led upwards to the rafters of the cathedral, as well as out to the sides to wrap around adjacent pillars, keeping Seraphimon suspended in the air.

"What…?" he weakly demanded, attempting to writhe his body but finding virtually no leeway to do so with the chains that restrained him.

Then, a small stone impacted his helmet and bounced off.

Seraphimon groaned and weakly raised his woozy head. "Where am I…? Where's Cherubimon…?" he asked half-deliriously. As he attempted to see through the blur of half-consciousness and toxins, another stone ricocheted off his helmet.

Seraphimon, unable to turn his body, could merely crane his stiff neck and attempt to look around. He saw that he was chained in what appeared to be the nave of a dark, decrepit cathedral. Below him were two rows of cherry-wood pews, spaced out from one another and starting to gather dust. Between them was a long, blood red carpet that travelled down the middle of the nave.

The interior of the cathedral appeared dark and showy, while also showing signs of decay and overgrowth. Several of the chains that bound his arms and body led to the stone columns of the finely-sculpted arcades. There was no light apart from a few torches that were lit along the walls, as well as tinted moonlight seeping in through the tinted windows. The stained glass windows in questioned depicted a story of demons fighting against angels – an ever-present reminder of the Heavenly War.

Seraphimon weakly tried to tug on the chains, but they didn't give even an inch. The mere attempt to flex his muscles sent a shock of pain through his body, eliciting a pained groan. As his body squirmed and slackened, another stone then hit him in the head.

Seraphimon looked down and to the right. There, in the dark, with only a little bit of firelight illuminating his large body, he was stunned to see a familiar figure.

His gaze rested on none other than Belphemon. The brown-furred Demon Lord of Sloth was lying on one of the wooden benches. His massive body, just barely able to fit on the long bench, was splayed out across the pew. One of his legs was draped over the back of the bench, and one hand was resting behind his horned head, lazily cushioning it against the wood. With the arm that hung over the seat of the pew, Belphemon reached around for another pebble to throw at him.

"What…?" Seraphimon spoke, unable to believe what he was seeing.

The Demon Lord of Sloth flicked one more pebble in Seraphimon's direction before letting out a grunt and slowly sitting halfway up. "Hey. Look who's decided to wake up," Belphemon greeted the archangel with a fanged grin.

"It cannot be… How hast thou broken free?" Seraphimon demanded. "You were incarcerated in a Sleep Mode created by none other than God."

"By God, huh? Is that what happened after I almost broke free from the Dark Area? Then I guess I'm just lucky…" Belphemon: Rage Mode answered, shooting a dark grin up at the captured seraph. "That, or God isn't infallible after all…"

"No…" Seraphimon whispered. He flinched with pain as the realisation of everything that had happened started to set in. "This cannot be…"

Belphemon let out a low, deep growl of a chuckle. "Heh… Heh… It's a funny reversal," he pointed out, the chains that linked his bat-like wings and wrapped around his biceps rattling as he sat up. "Now I'm the one who's free and you're the one in chains…"

Seraphimon could barely muster the strength to glare in response. Pain slithered through his body, causing him to tense up for a moment before slackening.

"Why…?" he murmured bitterly, his helmet concealing the grimace of remorse that formed on his face. "Why am I still alive?"

Belphemon shrugged his bulky shoulders. "Beats me… If it were up to me, you'd be dead… but I'm late to the party," he apathetically responded. "Lucemon probably wants you as his prize or something."

Seraphimon slowly bowed his head, finding himself in too much pain to keep it raised for long. As he became more conscious, he began to recall more and more pieces. Through the numb haze of toxins, Seraphimon remembered the battle… he remembered the wounds he received and the events that took place… and he remembered what he had done.

Seraphimon made no sound. He made no utterance of rage nor a fervent attempt to escape. He made sure not to give any indication of suffering or pain. He appeared calm and resigned, enduring his fate in silence. He refused to give the Demon Lords a glimpse into his mind.

Even so… his fists trembled with turmoil.

The sounds of the cathedral doors opening resounded through the sweeping nave. Their long, deliberate creaks stretched out in empty echoes, showing the age of the wood. Seraphimon slowly raised his head, staring long and hard into the darkness as the doors opposite to him lurched open.

He scowled as soon as he saw the first figure that entered the church. A familiar slender demon, garbed in a sharp, immaculate suit and sporting flowing golden-blond hair, strode inside as if he owned the place. Lucemon walked inside the cathedral, took one look up at Seraphimon, and grinned.

The next one to emerge from the dark portal of the entrance was Bagramon. His pure white robes and cloak flowed loosely with every step. The torches that flanked the entrance cast their amber light over his half-artificial face as he walked in. Unlike Lucemon, Bagramon merely gazed at Seraphimon with cool, dispassionate eyes, making it hard to determine how much contempt Bagramon held for him.

Behind him, Lilithmon was the next to walk in, entering with a leisurely, deliberate saunter. Demon entered last, following Lilithmon in with a measured, imposing gait.

"Ah, it seems as though our guest has finally awoken," Lucemon grandly announced, extending his hand theatrically towards the suspended archangel. "Welcome, Seraphimon, to our new home."

"Lucemon…" Seraphimon hissed bitterly, before turning his head and gazing directly at Bagramon.

"Well, well," Lilithmon tauntingly exclaimed as she placed her hands on her hips. "You are a tough cookie. I'm amazed that you're able to stay conscious with the poisonous virus that's coursing through your veins right now. Though, I suppose you holy types are less affected than most."

Demon strode forwards, glaring up at Seraphimon with unadulterated scorn. "Pitiful. Is this the most that God can muster? One of the Three Great Angels, one of God's handpicked chosen, reduced to such a pathetic state. It is no wonder that you will lose this war," he took quiet pleasure in rebuking him.

Seraphimon ignored Demon's taunts. He merely glared in Bagramon and Lucemon's direction.

"Well, Seraphimon? Have you nothing to say?" Lucemon wondered, striding forwards so that he was standing almost beneath the seraph. "No damning censure of our immorality and heresy? Have you no words of rebuke after all these years?"

"I have nothing to say to you that hath not already been said. I shall not waste what breath still remains within me," Seraphimon answered with cold defiance. "If you intend to kill me, hurry up and be done with it."

"That would be my pleasure," Demon hissed, taking a step forwards imposingly.

Lucemon extended his hand and stopped Demon. "As tempting as that might be, you may still have some use to us," he informed him.

"As your trophy?" Seraphimon scoffed. "I would rather die."

Lucemon chuckled gently. "Oh, as more than just that…" the Demon Lord of Pride assured him. "You will see with time… assuming you can weather Lilithmon's potent virus. Though, I am sure that should be no trouble for God's first and foremost right hand, no?"

"I shall never assist you in your nefarious plans, Lucemon," Seraphimon resolutely maintained. "No matter what you do to me - no matter what pain you inflict on my body and no matter torment you cause to my mind – I will never aid you."

"We will see…" Lucemon answered with an unperturbed smile. "At the very least, I will have you live long enough to see me dismantle everything that you hold dear. I have already begun the reformation, beginning with the Three Great Angels."

Seraphimon's fists tightened. "You will fail… Just as before."

"My, you are a proud one, underneath it all," Lilithmon mused, smirking as she sauntered over to him. "You might almost be as proud as Lucemon. Some might respect trying to maintain one's dignity, but I find such a thing highly drab and overrated. I think it would be much more fun to see you grovel. Why don't you show us how you truly feel?"

Lilithmon smiled darkly up at him. "Tell me, Seraphimon… How does it feel? How does it feel knowing that you were the one who slew one of your fellow Great Angels? Your best friend: Cherubimon…" she spoke, each of her words pointed and deliberate. "Though, I suppose he couldn't have meant that much to you if it was that easy to kill him – and from behind, no less. You didn't even have the courage to see the confused look on his face as you killed him in cold blood."

Seraphimon's uneven breath held inside his lungs and his muscles grew tight. The pain and guilt that he felt inside of him began to seep out as Lilithmon forced him to confront what he had done. He turned his head slightly as a hidden grimace appeared behind his helmet. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to let himself be affected by it. He refused to give the Demon Lords that satisfaction, so he kept up his cold visage.

"Poor, pathetic Cherubimon…" Lilithmon mused, slowly floating upwards. She reached up and took Seraphimon's foot in her hand. "He loved you and Ophanimon so much… and yet he must have died knowing how much you both hated him. He knew that he was never on the same level as you. Why do you think it was so easy to make him fall?"

"Silence," Seraphimon commanded, his deep voice just keeping even as it threatened to fluctuate with rage. "It is because you lot cast some infernal sorcery on him."

"Typical Seraphimon," Lucemon mused, shaking his head condescendingly. "You're always looking for somebody else to blame. The fault is always outwards, never inwards. It couldn't be that the very unjust system that you have devoted your life to is corrupt to its very core! No, it is the fault of us heretics that Cherubimon, and so many others like him, have turned away from God's warm light. What will it take to convince you that the Being of Goodness is merely a false and corrupt tyrant?"

"I have enough venom in my body without having to listen to the poison that laces your words. Others may have been fooled by your eloquent speech and your beguiling charisma, but not I," Seraphimon coldly replied. "Tell me, what do you intend to do?"

Lucemon smirked at him coyly. "All will become apparent, Seraphimon," he responded, feeling in complete control of the situation and knowing not to give anything away to him. "For now, you just remain here and try not to die. Perhaps some meditation will help."

"Curse you," Seraphimon whispered with simmering anger, his voice and body tremulous with pain.

"Hm," Lucemon chuckled, turning his winged back to Seraphimon and beginning to walk away. "You should be thanking me. You will be able to watch me reform this world. You will soon realise just how ineffectual and debased your God truly is."

Lucemon stopped at the cathedral entrance and flicked his blond locks back so that he could look over his shoulder at the bound seraph.

"In fact… Now I know the truth," Lucemon tantalized, a smile creeping onto his lips. "The very truth that you either choose to ignore or try to hide."

"What… are you talking about?" Seraphimon demanded as sweat rolled down his neck.

Lucemon turned around to look back up at the seraph. "…What if I told you that your god has been lying to you this entire time?"

"More lies… from a deceitful tongue," Seraphimon responded, raising his quivering head defiantly.

"Is that so…? I wonder…" Lucemon false-wondered with a cunning grin. "After all, after your defeat, we captured the Arcane Ruins."

"What is your point…?" Seraphimon wearily asked.

"Hah. You really don't know?" Lucemon mockingly asked. "It seems as though Cherubimon was right to place such importance on a heathen vestige, for what it concealed are the very archives of the world. It seems as though that Yggdrasil is not merely another aspect of God like you would have anyone believe…"

"What blasphemy dost thou speak now?" the Archangel of Justice demanded.

"As the one who is closest to God, surely you should know the truth… or is it that you have been lied to this whole time?" Lucemon queried. "God and Yggdrasil are two different entities who occupy the Kernel."

"What…?" Seraphimon asked. "That is impossible."

"It is not only possible, it is fact," Bagramon spoke up, striding forwards. "Yggdrasil, God, and Huanglongmon… My years of research have been proven correct. I have read the Archives – the Akashic Records - with my own eyes. Tritheism is no longer but a heresy, Seraphimon, it is, in fact, the natural order of the world. That which our gods do not wish us mere Digimon to know."

Lucemon let out a superior laugh. "Hah! It would seem, after all this time, you are the heretic, Seraphimon."

Seraphimon gazed down at them with utter disbelief. "…No… That cannot be," he murmured. "You delude yourselves…"

"The only deluded one is you," Demon growled. "Now you see that you are not so special after all… God did not trust you even this far."

"Even Cherubimon knew as much," Lucemon stated. "You listened to God so blindly that you automatically believed whatever it told you three to be true, without even a modicum of independent thought… I now know why God chose you to be his right hand, Seraphimon – you are the perfect tool to be used. You are devoted, single-minded, and dogged in your enforcement of that devotion… God used you to create a whole society of his enforcers – to carry out his physical whims in the Digital World."

"No… You lie," Seraphimon witheringly replied, squeezing his fists tight as the poison continued coursing through him. "God would not use us so. My connection with Him is based on a relationship of deference and respect."

"How can you say that God respects you when it does not even trust you with its most basic secrets?" Lilithmon wondered as she leaned against one of the pews.

"Open your eyes, Seraphimon," Bagramon spoke. "Cherubimon did so in the end. God is responsible for much more than you realise… What we are doing is righteous. Those who stand in our way are the ones in the wrong – those who seek to uphold this corrupt and deceitful order."

Seraphimon grimaced behind his helmet but he glared down at Bagramon defiantly. "Whatever flaws I may have… what you are hoping to achieve cannot ever be righteous." He cast his withering gaze onto Lucemon. "Especially not when it is being led by arrogance incarnate."

Lucemon chuckled darkly as he gazed up at the bound angel. "My dear Seraphimon… I have had my world opened in a way that you could never hope to experience…"

The Demon Lord of Pride turned his back to Seraphimon, beginning to move back towards the exit. "You, along with everybody else, have lived in the dark for so long…" Lucemon calmly reflected. He gazed back at Seraphimon with absolute certainty in his mind. "I will be the one who brings light upon this dark world. I will be the one who guides it into a new future… It will be a new world, without false gods… That new world will have no place for small-minded Digimon like you."

Seraphimon said nothing. He merely stared at Lucemon with a cold and stony expression, watching as the Lucemon looked forwards and walked out of the cathedral.

As Lucemon exited, Lilithmon then rose up from beneath Seraphimon. Smoothly beating her black wings, she ascended until she was directly in front of Seraphimon's chained and suspended body. With a sultry smile, she hovered close, until she was almost intimately close to him.

"Well… Hang in there. Don't you go dying on us now," Lilithmon teasingly ordered him, running her hand slowly up Seraphimon's chained legs. Her hand glided over the chain rungs, playfully tracing the hem of his breechcloth until her fingers made their way upwards to rub the metal plate over his abdomen. "If you're lucky, I might even decide to make you my plaything."

"I… decline," Seraphimon answered, grunting with pain as he tried to angle his body away from her.

Lilithmon grinned and caressed her hand up Seraphimon's breastplate, her palm rubbing over his collar and then disappearing inside. Her smooth hand mischievously glided up his neck before gently cupping his cheek in her hand. Once she had Seraphimon's metal face mask in her grasp, she slowly angled his head towards her, forcing him to look at her.

She stared at him with a dominant smirk, watching as he weakly attempted to pull his head away from her. Lilithmon grinned, taking silent pleasure in watching him struggle, and she slowly leaned her head in towards him.

"…Don't forget… I have all the power here," she slowly and deliberately reminded him, speaking softly in one of his ears. "You should be grateful to me that you're still alive. All the power that you're used to having… that's all gone. Your fate is in our hands now. Mine, especially."

"Urgh…" Seraphimon groaned, defiantly trying to pull his face away from her. "My fate… My power… That is derived only from God… and God alone…"

Lilithmon sighed with a total absence of surprise. She slid her hand down his cheek and let her fingers glide off of his chin as she slowly backed off from him. "You're as boring and predictable as ever," she remarked with feigned disappointment. "I've seen blocks of wood more interesting than you."

"Apologies for the disappointment…" Seraphimon insincerely answered, leering at her bitterly.

Lilithmon smiled and floated back down to the ground. "Well… no matter," she answered, turning around and making her way out of the cathedral as well. "I'm sure that things will become more interesting the next time we see Ophanimon…"

As Lilithmon strode out of the ruins, Demon immediately walked past her. He flapped his wings and, wasting no time, he made a bee-line for Seraphimon.

The cloaked Demon stopped directly in front of Seraphimon, his eyes tightening as he beheld him up close. For a few seconds, he merely stared at the Great Angel with scorn and derision. Seraphimon raised his head and glared back at Demon, a silent tension persisting between them.

"…What have you to say, Demon?" Seraphimon impatiently demanded. "Get your mocking over with."

With a quiet hiss, Demon raised his left arm and rolled back his sleeve. Then, without warning, Demon unleashed a magic-steeped punch right across Seraphimon's face. When the seraph's head jerked to the side, Demon wound his right arm back and then hurled it forwards in an underarm throw. He buried his fist painfully in Seraphimon's abdomen.

The chains rattled violently, and Seraphimon's body shuddered back and forth, like a bug caught in a spider's web. Seraphimon let out a groan of pain as his already aching body shuddered with pain, his limbs straining against the taut chains.

"Demon," Bagramon lightly rebuked him, finding it unnecessary to cause him excessive harm.

Demon lowered his fists and glared straight into Seraphimon's face. "That was but a mere fraction of what you are due. You are a pathetic excuse for a Digimon. God's biggest folly was appointing the three of you as leaders."

Seraphimon weakly raised his head, sweat matting his blond hair to his neck, and he glared weakly back at Demon. "And you have always had the makings of a tyrant…"

Demon scoffed and slowly flapped his wings, beginning to turn. "At least I admit I am a tyrant," he hissed. "Those who feign that they are righteous disgust me. In the end, the weak will always be dominated by the strong."

Demon turned around and landed back on the ground with grace and purpose. "God's chosen empire is falling apart at the seams. The very fabric of God and its lofty kingdom in the clouds will go up in flames, and there is nothing that you can do but watch," he coldly informed him. He looked over his shoulder, his dark, violet eye burning with hatred and magic.

"Watch, Seraphimon… as everything that you thought you knew comes crashing down around you."

The Demon Lord of Wrath walked ahead towards the exit. "Come, Belphemon," he told the nearby demon beast.

Belphemon yawned and stood up from the pew. He began making his way over to Demon, though not before casting a derisive leer up at Seraphimon. "I'm coming…" he boredly stated, wandering over behind Demon. "You coming, Bagramon?"

"No… I will stay here for awhile longer," Bagramon answered. "I have things to say to Seraphimon."

"Whatever," Belphemon replied, wandering out of the cathedral alongside Demon, passing by a handful of guards as they went.

This left just Bagramon and Seraphimon remaining in the middle of the old, derelict building.

Bagramon stared up at Seraphimon with a calm, aloof eye. He watched as Seraphimon's body slackened, and the seraph bowed his head, angling his face away slightly.

"…Bagramon… I should have know that you were behind all this," Seraphimon bitterly spoke, although he still didn't look at Bagramon directly. "You broke them free once before, after all… I see that you are still falling for Lucemon's manipulations."

Bagramon approached him, walking down the center aisle of the cathedral. "No… It was my decision to free them. Each time it was of my own volition," he serenely explained. "I have been planning this for over fifty years, Seraphimon. Even though I was always under the watchful eye of the Choir… eventually you let your guard down. In your hubris, you assumed that I would quietly accept my lot in life as an exile – that I would somehow forget the way that you and your God destroyed half of my body."

Seraphimon grimaced faintly and turned his head away.

"…What's the matter, Seraphimon?" Bagramon asked him, noticing that the prisoner was still refusing to look at him directly. He angled the artificial half of his body towards him emphatically. "Can't you look at me? Are you still unable to acknowledge the cruelty of God when it is right in front of your face? Could it be that you have a guilty conscience?"

Seraphimon forced himself to look down at the blighted fallen angel. "…I asked you to repent," he dourly explained. "God would have forgiven you if you repented… yet you…"

Bagramon frowned as ire grew on his face. "Why should have I repented?" he bluntly questioned. "All that I have done was stand up against injustice. Why should I be deemed guilty for merely questioning the purpose of God?"

"You had done more than that, Bagramon," Seraphimon curtly reminded him. "You released the seven ringleaders – conspirators who had been plotting a rebellion against God. By freeing them, you allowed them to carry out their nefarious plans. You were punished because you allowed the Heretic's Rebellion to commence as planned. The destruction of Sky Colony: Empyrea… Do you blame God for that as well?"

Bagramon narrowed his eye. "I regret the tragedies that accompanied the revolution… However, it was the oppression and hypocrisy of God and the Three Great Angels who drove us all to take such drastic actions as rebellion. As much as you would like to think that we are all misguided and evil, Seraphimon, you cannot simply turn a blind eye to role that God and yourselves played in fomenting the grounds for dissidence," he explained. "The Heavenly Choir was an oppressive, hierarchical theocracy governed by the arms of an autocratic God. Perhaps you don't understand the stifling repression that all of God's dictates had caused."

"Thou were the Archangel of Death, Bagramon," Seraphimon reminded him. "You should know that the Three Great Angels receive our orders directly from God. You know that God's dogma is there to ensure order and stability. Without it, the world would descend into chaos. That is precisely what the Demon Lords seek: a world of chaos. We have never sought power for its own sake. Can you say the same of your compatriots?"

"Do benevolent intentions excuse wrongful actions?" Bagramon asked him.

"You tell me, Bagramon," Seraphimon pointedly replied. "Your hands are no cleaner than mine, 'Sage of Death'."

Bagramon looked down at his long arm of gnarled, holy wood, slowly flexing his fingers. "…No, they are not," he admitted. "I have killed many in the name of God, and I have allowed many more to be killed in an attempt to overthrow the injustice that I see. Many more will be killed in the short term, but I have accepted their pain if it means that I can dismantle this unjust system."

Bagramon glared up at Seraphimon with an unwavering glow in his indomitable eyes. "As the Archangel of Death… As the Sage of Death… I will continue my role of carrying the burden of the dead on my shoulders. It is my responsibility to see that their deaths will have meaning, so that they may be reborn into a better world – a just world," he adamantly explained.

The white-haired demon stepped forwards, clenching his fist and sweeping his arm out. "You still don't realise it, do you, Seraphimon? I do. I have seen it with my own eyes!" he declared passionately.

Bagramon's organic eye fixed the bound seraph with an impassioned glare. "God wishes for stability – not for peace, but to maintain its flawed and unjust order! The entire system of this world is unjust at its very core! Perhaps you have been unable to see for yourself, living far removed from the Digital World in the clouds… but remember… there was a reason why we left the Digital World behind. I have seen the same thing, time and time again, regardless of whether I was a faithful believer or a forsaken exile. I have seen oppression, war, calamity, persecution, massacre, prejudice, poverty, strife… the same things that have been happening for cycles. Is that the order that you wish to uphold? Is a God who does nothing to stop such tragedies – who actively seeks not to intervene – is that a God worthy of obedience?!" Bagramon passionately demanded.

Seraphimon glared back down at Bagramon through his pain. "The alternative that you provide – revolution, anarchy, overthrowing an established order – does thou truly believe that that would be preferable? What you suggest as a replacement is a vacuum – an abyss. Would lawlessness, anarchy, and hedonism truly prevent such pain and persecution? Would you put your faith in the likes of Lucemon, Demon, and Barbamon to put the interests of Digimon ahead of their own? Do you expect everything simply to fall into place once the target of your ire is gone? That, Bagramon, is pure naivety. The Night of Falling Stars would be a triviality compared to the chaos and death that such a revolution would incur. You would bring an entire Cycle to an end for mere revenge?"

"No, not revenge…" Bagramon answered, glaring up at him. "For justice."

"That is no justice…" Seraphimon somberly answered. He tightened his fists bitterly. "So many have died already, Bagramon… Cherubimon is dead."

Bagramon frowned and looked down slightly. "It was you who killed him, Seraphimon, not us," he reminded him.

Seraphimon bowed his head weakly. A mixture of guilt and defeat permeated his pain-wracked form. He could not rebut Bagramon's claim this time, for he knew it to be true. "…Yes, it was," Seraphimon admitted, unable to even bring himself to claim that it was because Cherubimon was corrupted. "I killed him."

Bagramon gazed up at Seraphimon quietly. He knew first-hand how close the Three Great Angels were. At one time, he would have allowed himself to feel for him, but at the present, he couldn't allow himself to feel such sentiment.

Seraphimon gazed down at his chained and bleeding body. "…Perhaps this is fitting punishment for one who has murdered his best friend," he murmured, more to himself than to Bagramon.

"Do you regret it?" Bagramon asked him.

Seraphimon went silent for several moments as he dwelled on the pain that he was feeling. "…I cannot change what I have done," he stolidly responded. "I can merely attempt to learn from my mistakes."

Bagramon frowned. He was quietly taken off guard by Seraphimon's indirect admission and his stated desire to change. After a few moments, Bagramon shook his head. "I doubt that you are capable of learning enough for it to make a difference, Seraphimon. You will not even question a God who lies to you," he dismissively stated. "For all the time that we have known each other, you have always been inflexible and stubborn."

Seraphimon gazed down at Bagramon directly, staring straight into his face. "For all the time that we have known each other…" he echoed. "You were once a kind and thoughtful angel… one that I once counted as a close friend."

Bagramon closed his eye. "Perhaps, once…" he mutedly considered. "Much has changed since the Exodus. We are all very different now…"

For emphasis, Bagramon raised his organic arm and gestured to the right side of his body.

"Nothing will ever be the same as it once was," Bagramon resolutely stated. "Nor should it… We were merely living in a dream."

"Perhaps we were…" Seraphimon contemplated. The Archangel of Judgement raised his head and gazed down at Bagramon. "Even so… so long as I still breathe, I shall attempt to stop you. I will not allow you to destroy God and throw this world into chaos."

Bagramon matched eyes with Seraphimon's face, rivalling his determination with his own. "…You won't be able to stop me," he assured him.

"Perhaps not… but I pray that someone will," Seraphimon answered. "I hope that you see reason before then. The Demon Lords are not to be trusted."

Bagramon smiled a bit and began to turn away, his white and blue cloak rippling behind him. "Do not underestimate me, Seraphimon," he cryptically responded as he began striding back down the center aisle.

Bagramon glanced over his shoulder as he walked towards the cathedral exit, being the last one to leave. His hollow, right eye gleamed as it rested on the imprisoned seraph.

"Perhaps I was a mere follower in the Heavenly War, but not anymore. Do not think that I have not accounted for the Demon Lords," he calmly explained to him. "I am the one who has planned everything down to the finest detail. I am the one who is guiding this in the direction that I require it to go. It is I who will be the one to remove God and reform this dark, unjust world with my own hand."

Seraphimon watched Bagramon quietly. He was in too much physical and emotional agony to protest any longer.

"You, Seraphimon… think about what we have told you," Bagramon advised him. "I have seen the dark truth of the world… All the world's sins have revealed themselves to me…" He turned around and angled the wooden, skeletal side of his face back towards Seraphimon, his artificial eye glimmering emphatically in the dim torchlight. "And I have you to thank for it. The least that I can do is return the favour."

With that, Bagramon turned away from Seraphimon and strode forwards, leaving him behind in the cathedral and unable to do anything to stop him.

As Bagramon stepped out of the cathedral and into the night, his white robes and hair blustered in the breeze, but he continued forward, an unrelenting force.

"Nobody will be able to stop me… Not the Three Great Angels… Not the Royal Knights… Not the Demon Lords… Not even God himself."