(Author's Notes: Hey, all! Here's Part Two of Chapter 88.
I've made a decent start on the next chapter so far. I'll see what I can get done over the next few weeks.)
Chapter 88: Brotherhood (Part II)
Everything was bright.
The late-afternoon sun cast its light across the town of Dawncrest. The vivid, caramel colour saturated the roofs of buildings, warmly highlighting everything with bleary splendor. The sun was against him, making it hard to see ahead clearly.
Dawncrest was a familiar place to him. It was a moderately large town to the north - not a landmark, but a relatively prosperous trading town.
Merchants lined the main streets. All around him, they were closing their shops and stalls for the day, packing up their belongings and securing the day's profits.
It was his home. Yet also not. He didn't live in the town itself, but nearby.
He was its lord, and Dawncrest was part of his domain. A large manor overlooked the town from atop a nearby hill. That was his home, and that was where he usually resided. He usually only came down to town to speak with the mayor about local business, and, even then, he would be accompanied by personal attendants.
Today, however, was different. Today, he endeavoured to see the town for himself, with his own eyes. Not as its lord, but as a regular Digimon.
Bagramon wandered down the bustling street, carefully walking to the side of the sidewalk, so as to not draw too much attention to himself.
Simple clothes adorned his body. He wore an old, white mantle that covered him from shoulder to foot. A hood concealed most of his head, hiding his black hair and smooth, youthful face from view. He had made a point of growing his facial hair out for a week in preparation, giving himself some slight, black stubble that would hide his identity.
His pointed boots tapped as he walked down the dirty, stone sidewalk. He politely refused an eager merchant who was trying to peddle some wares even as he closed up his shop.
"Are you sure this is wise, brother?" a skeptical voice asked.
Bagramon turned his head and looked behind him. Striding alongside him, just a few paces behind, was a familiar Digimon.
SkullKnightmon followed after him, looking around warily. His short, stocky body was completely concealed by a black, hooded cowl. Only his glowing, yellow eyes could be seen beneath the hood. Despite his younger voice, his gleaming eyes were hard and cautious. They shifted back and forth, guarded with experience. His suspicion contrasted the inquisitiveness with which Bagramon absorbed his surroundings.
"I told you, SkullKnightmon – you do not have to come with me," he lightly reminded his younger brother. "I meant to do this on my own from the beginning."
SkullKnightmon sighed behind his concealed visor. "Yes, well, somebody must have the unfortunate task of protecting you from yourself," he dryly responded. "If left alone, you would be pickpocketed – or worse. Any cutpurse with half their sight would have you pegged as an easy mark. Now cease looking around so much!"
Bagramon huffed with annoyance, but he reluctantly followed his younger brother's instruction. "This is my first time coming out to town alone. Whenever I come here on business, it's with the attendants – straight to town hall and back," he informed him.
"You have seemed more than happy holed up in our library for the past fifteen years," SkullKnightmon murmured.
"That is precisely the problem, brother. It has been a year since father passed and I became the new lord of Dawncrest," he passionately explained. "I have learned all about political affairs, law, history, and governance, but I do not know anything about the Digimon who I govern. It is my responsibility to learn more about the world and the Digimon in it."
"Commendable, I'm sure," SkullKnightmon said with a roll of his eyes. "And what exactly are you hoping to learn?"
"I do not know… I want to learn about regular Digimon. I want to learn about the nature of the world," Bagramon replied. "You are the second son, SkullKnightmon; for the past eight years, you have been out adventuring. You have seen the world, but I have not. I need to see the world with my own two eyes."
"And if you do not like what you see?"
Bagramon frowned. "Then I shall change it," he eagerly proclaimed. "There is no reason for the world not to be the best that it can be."
SkullKnightmon scoffed and shook his head beneath his hood. "As if it is that simple…" he replied, looking up at Bagramon with doubtful eyes.
"You are right, Bagramon. I have seen much of the world over the past eight years," the cloaked knight explained. "However, on my travels, I have not just seen the bright utopias of your storybooks and political texts like you seem to think. I have walked the back alleys of cities, deep where the law does not reach. I have skirted rural villages, so hostile to those who are different from them that they treat them as enemies."
SkullKnightmon looked up at him. "With light, there is always darkness. Many try to pretend it isn't there. Others speak about it in theory without ever having to face it themselves. They speak with authority on the world's ills while resting comfortably in their sheltered existences. However, the more I look and experience, the more that I see the world for what it really is."
"I am not like that, brother," Bagramon asserted. "I wish to see the same as you do – the bad as well as the good. I do not want to close my eyes to anything. How can I call myself a leader if I am without sight?"
"Well, then…" SkullKnightmon looked around the busy street, searching for the kind of example that he meant. He looked beyond the merchants who were finishing packing up their shops, rich from the day's earnings - beyond the Digimon who walked to the taverns to relax after work. He attempted to find something to demonstrate his point.
However, Bagramon had already found it. Bagramon was walking ahead without his brother, towards a Digimon who SkullKnightmon hadn't even registered until then.
It was a small creature who was sitting at the side of the road, just out of the way of the foot traffic but still close enough to be seen by passers-by.
He was a small, black dinosaur. His clawed hands and feet were covered in dust and dirt. His knees and elbows sported half-healed scrapes, and the black scales of his forearms were discoloured in places, marred with light scars and dark purple bruises. Sunken were his belly and cheeks. His large, reptilian head was bowed dispiritedly, gazing hopelessly at the empty bowl loosely held between his grungy hands.
Bagramon frowned as he gazed at the wretched-looking Black Agumon. He could tell by the red stripes on the Black Agumon's arms and back that he was different – did he have some sort of mutation, he wondered?
The sight of this piteous child struck him deep in his heart. He could not look away. There was no reason why a child should be so impoverished and miserable – not in Dawncrest. It was an affluent trading town, after all. The merchants exported many local trade goods and sold to passing merchants and customers. He had seen the tax records. Why was a child like this not privy to the wealth that they were making?
Bagramon stopped a few meters away from the child, who had yet to notice him. He tentatively approached the young Digimon, reaching inside his cloak as he did so.
"Hello, child," Bagramon greeted.
The black-scaled Agumon tensed up on reflex and skittishly looked up at him with wide, green eyes.
"It's okay… My name is Bagramon," he assured him with a soft smile. He rooted inside his coin purse and pulled out a gold coin from under his cloak. "I would like to give this to you…"
The strangely-patterned Black Agumon saw the shiny coin and his eyes widened, clearly never having seen a coin of that value before. He eagerly raised the bowl to Bagramon in case he changed his mind.
Bagramon gently placed the coin inside the bowl and gave the Black Agumon a warm smile. "Use that to buy some clothes and food for yourself, alright? I will see if I can find you somewhere to stay."
"Th-Thank you, sir!" the Black Agumon jubilantly exclaimed, sounding almost surprised at his generosity. He started standing to his feet with a new found vigor.
Bagramon patted his head and then turned around as the Black Agumon ran off. Behind him, SkullKnightmon stood a few meters away, watching him with dispassionate eyes.
Bagramon acknowledged his brother with a quietly satisfied smile and walked back to him.
"Well, now. You seem quite pleased with yourself," SkullKnightmon noted.
"Pardon, brother?" Bagramon asked as he approached.
As he stopped in front of him, SkullKnightmon met him with a cool and critical stare. He looked right into his eyes, as if challenging him.
"Did that help you to soothe your conscience?" SkullKnightmon inquired, his tongue like a knife. "Did that token gesture of kindness lessen some of the guilt that you feel for being fortunate in life?"
Bagramon's brows furrowed with affront and confusion. "…What? What do you mean? I did not do that for my benefit," he asserted.
"Didn't you?" SkullKnightmon pressed. "Or do you really believe that such a small gesture will actually make a difference?"
"It may… It can at least give him a start," Bagramon defended.
SkullKnightmon scoffed and shook his head. "A street urchin like him?" he asked, his eyes following the Black Agumon as he ran down the street. "Tell me, brother… what did you notice about him when you spoke to him?"
"Well, he was quite unkempt, for one thing… He looked like quite rough – like he had a lot of injuries," Bagramon recounted. "He was also unusual-looking for an Agumon species. They don't normally have striped patterns on their scales – not even Black Agumon do, I am pretty certain."
"That is because he is an X-Antibody variant," SkullKnightmon explained. "Have you heard of them? A new evolutionary mutation that has cropped up just over the past several years… They are looked upon with fear and suspicion, and treated like outcasts."
"X-Antibody…? I have heard about that. When I travelled to Terminal with father, we attended a symposium at the Royal Academy about that very issue. However, the topic was so novel that the outcome was inconclusive and very much divisive among academia."
"It matters not what a bunch of academics say about it – this, brother, is reality. In reality, these mutants are treated like dirt," SkullKnightmon bluntly informed him. "That Black Agumon lives alone on the streets. Why do you think that is…? Did his parents abandon him because of what he was? Or were his parents killed because they, too, were like he was?"
Bagramon frowned with worry and pity as he watched the Black Agumon dip into an alley between two buildings.
"Tell me, brother. How many children are there out there who are just like that Agumon?" SkullKnightmon continued. "How many children are suffering, do you think? How many have been killed?"
"Killed…?" Bagramon asked, shuffling uncomfortably. "I couldn't possibly say… Killed by what? The Crisis of the First Cycle? The Great Famine?"
SkullKnightmon's hooded helmet shook back and forth. "No… Large-scale calamities such as that only mask the true evil of this world. It is the evil of negligence, indifference, and hollow ideals," he grimly explained. "Poverty. Crime. Prejudice. Hatred. Ordinary, commonplace evils - evils that happen in plain sight, which we pretend not to notice. How many small, isolated incidents happen every day? How many ordinary Digimon die every day? And why is it allowed happen? Why does Yggdrasil allow this to happen?"
"Surely Yggdrasil cannot be expected to intervene on behalf of every single Digimon," Bagramon contended.
"Perhaps not. That would be too simple. But if not Yggdrasil, then who will?"
SkullKnightmon strode forwards, walking until he could look down the alley that the Black Agumon had run down. "Come. Look at this," he instructed.
Bagramon tentatively made his way over, worried about what he would see. He came to a stop beside his brother and looked down the alley.
Deep into the alley between two buildings, he saw the Black Agumon again. The young Digimon was standing in front of a large, black cockroach Digimon that was standing on two legs.
Bagramon watched with a deepening frown as the Black Agumon held up the gold coin to the Gokimon.
The Gokimon curtly snatched the coin from the child's hands and began holding it up to the light to examine it. He pinched the coin and tested its purity. Then, after giving a satisfied nod, the cockroach Digimon pocketed the coin and gave the Black Agumon a push, ushering him back in the direction of the street for more.
"Tell me, brother," SkullKnightmon's voice asked him. Bagramon looked down to see his younger brother staring up at him.
"Does your conscience still feel light? Can you reconcile it with yourself because your intentions were good? Or does the knowledge that your act of goodness merely contributed to a system of exploitation now taint it?"
Bagramon grimaced faintly. "You seem to take relish in this…"
"I take no relish in this, brother," SkullKnightmon calmly but adamantly asserted. "I merely want you to see the truth, as you claimed you wanted to."
"I do not dispute that there is evil in this world – that innocent Digimon suffer unjustly," Bagramon contended, bitterly glimpsing at the Black Agumon as the child walked out to the street to beg some more. "Yes, perhaps I made a mistake there… However, perhaps many small acts of goodness can collectively make this world a better place. Not every act will be in vain. One bad apple does not spoil the bunch, SkullKnightmon. To do nothing because we thought it was pointless would be worse than trying and failing."
SkullKnightmon shook his head. "And what will these 'small acts' achieve, brother?" he incisively questioned. "You sit in your study, writing about what utopia ought to be and despairing at the evils that you read about. Yet, as you do so in your lofty tower, the world will continue puttering along without you. The evil will continue no matter how much you write and despair."
"I do not intend to do nothing, SkullKnightmon. I still believe in this world. And I believe in Yggdrasil. I believe in a brighter future," Bagramon passionately asserted. "Only with belief in Yggdrasil and right action will we be able to make this world a better place."
"…No, Bagramon… Digimon will always continue to hurt other Digimon. It is in their nature. No greater power will intervene to stop them. Not Huanglongmon. Not any other 'godly' being. Not even Yggdrasil will. It is a waste to rely on a higher power, for only the actions of Digimon can stop other Digimon. Not superficial and self-serving action, but profound and decisive action that will change the very foundations of the Digital World."
SkullKnightmon's eyes hardened. "Only power can alter power. The weak, self-satisfied, and half-hearted will never be able to change a single thing… And let me tell you, if you wait for Yggdrasil to solve all of the world's problems, you will be waiting a very long time."
Bagramon sighed, looking up at the evening sky. "…If you are correct – if Lord Yggdrasil truly won't help – then perhaps ordinary Digimon should act in good and just ways on Yggdrasil's behalf," he suggested. "How else will we improve anything?"
SkullKnightmon looked up at the sky as well. "Perhaps they should… Perhaps ordinary Digimon should be more responsible – more righteous," he wistfully mused, "…but they never will be. They will follow their base instincts. The weak need the strong to impose morality and justice upon them. They will never do so themselves."
Bagramon gazed down at his younger brother sadly. "…Do you really believe that, brother…? Truly?"
SkullKnightmon turned his cloaked back to him. "…Yes," he coldly replied. "That is what I have come to believe."
Bagramon stared at short knight who stood aloofly away from him. SkullKnightmon had changed slightly from what he remembered. He had always been pragmatic… but to become this cynical? He wondered what he had seen – what he had experienced to come to think that way. …Yet, he almost didn't want to know.
"…Well, I don't," Bagramon answered. "I believe in Digimon. I believe in our innate goodness and in that of our god. I believe in our ability to change. We can change. We will."
Suddenly, SkullKnightmon started walking down the busy road, weaving past Digimon. Their faces were obscured and blurry. The bright, orange light was intense as it shone in Bagramon's eyes.
"…Keep on thinking like that then, brother," SkullKnightmon's voice spoke as he walked towards the setting sun.
The knight kept on walking, his body becoming obscured by the intense rays of the shining amber sun in front of him. The rays kept getting brighter and brighter, until it was like his entire silhouette was being swallowed by the light.
"Brother?" Bagramon called out, attempting to chase after him. However, his legs wouldn't move. He looked down – his feet were fixed to the ground by roots.
"No. Brother, wait!" Bagramon cried out, reaching after the fading silhouette with his arm, which was now a giant limb of gnarled wood. "Come back!"
The blackness faded within the blazing sun, and soon the sun dipped below the horizon, swallowing everything with blackness - himself included.
"…SkullKnightmon!"
"Repent, Bagramon… Repent, while you still can…"
Bagramon's remaining eye cracked open.
Through the bleary glaze, he saw only darkness before him.
Everything was indistinct. His vision was blurry and disoriented. Meanwhile, his artificial right eye stared vacantly upwards. The ruby deep within the socket flickered as it activated.
His eye adjusted to the dark, and he soon found that he was staring at the roof of his tent.
Bagramon groggily raised his left hand up to his face. His fingers traced the right side of the base of his nose, along the contour where the World Tree's bark fused with his light brown skin. He did so as if to check that this was reality. The rough, bony wood against his fingers he felt was enough of a reminder as he needed.
"What was that? A dream…?" he wondered foggily. "Memories?"
He released a heavy sigh, reflecting on the upsetting dream. Another one… Dreams like that were becoming more and more common. Distorted fragments of the past, amalgamations forging both truth and counterfeit. Bagramon lay there in his bed. He tried to shake off the feelings of nostalgia and unease that vied within his bosom.
Then, a noise suddenly irrupted from nearby. A dreadful noise. It came from outside of his tent.
It was some sort of muffled gurgling sound, followed by a gentle and controlled collapse. It didn't sound real… like it was the distant moan of a discontented phantom. Bagramon's stomach tightened. Was this a continuation of his nightmare?
He lay in bed and listened to see if he was merely hearing things… For many seconds, he heard naught but silence.
A sigh began to leave his nostrils.
Before he could finalize his relief, the sudden sound of cloth ruffling announced a presence. It was his tent flap. It was being opened…
Bagramon's wooden fist slowly tightened atop the bed sheet. The cloth flap crinkled softly as it opened, and the fabric brushed against something entering his tent. He felt the cool air invade his quarters, along with the intruder.
He heard the faintest of footsteps – the soft jangle of metal. Each one came closer, and closer…
Then, Bagramon bolted upright. There was a hulking silhouette at the foot of his bed. He thrust the Astral Snatcher towards it, his eye gleaming.
It was in that very moment that he stopped.
Within the darkness, the silhouette became clear to him. And when it did… his blood ran cold.
The towering body of a knight stood at the foot of his bed. A pair of glowing sockets stared back at him calmly, staring straight into his eyes.
The knight's arms were hanging passively at his sides. In one hand, a lowered, double-headed spear. Its red tip dripped with fresh blood and effervescent data.
Bagramon's sole, remaining eye widened with utter disbelief. The colour drained from the organic half his face, and his mouth grew dry.
For the spectre standing before him was none other than his dead brother…
DarkKnightmon…
The ghostly spectre of Bagramon's brother stood at the foot of his bed, gazing down at him noiselessly.
Not a word was said between them.
Deathly silence consumed the tent. The only noise that could be heard was the gentle drip of blood and the soft fizzing of data.
Bagramon's expression gradually dropped. He was stunned, overcome with shock and disbelief at the figure before him. His stressed and bleary mind was trying to come to terms with it. After all, this couldn't be. What he saw in front of him was impossible.
After all… his brother was dead.
Bagramon brought his hand up to cover his artificial eye. Then he moved his hand sideways, his palm shifting over to his organic one.
There was no change… Even filtered through his Invisible Snake-eye, the figure stood before him in physical form. Or, at least, he believed the figure to be standing before him. He wasn't sure if he could even believe what he was seeing anymore. He had been increasingly stressed lately, ever since they left from Castle Nocturne.
Perhaps the stress was finally getting to him. Perhaps the madness of his plan was finally catching up with him… Or perhaps he had seen too much of the truth of the world in Yggdrasil's archives. Lucemon had been acting strangely too… maybe he had become profoundly affected by the revelations as well.
Bagramon leaned forwards in his bed, clutching his face with his hand. A soft snicker escaped his mouth…
"Hah… Hahah…"
Bagramon then began laughing harder, his chuckle becoming drenched with cynical self-realization.
"Hahahahah…!"
The dark silhouette that resembled his brother stared at him, tilting his head slightly at his unhinged laughter.
Bagramon's laughter petered out with a few lingering chuckles. He gazed up at the phantom with a tear in the corner of his eye. "…Heh… I see… So that it's… Am I truly going insane…?"
Then, the phantom spoke.
"It seems to me that you already have… brother."
The smile faded from Bagramon's face as he gazed at the dark figure. His previously bewildered look hardened into a penetrative glare. It was then that he confirmed that this was no apparition… Could it be…? But… how?
"…You are dead," Bagramon maintained.
DarkKnightmon calmly looked down at his own body, raising his hand to feel the solid armour of his breastplate.
"Well, now... You were once the Archangel of Death; I suppose you would know better than anybody," DarkKnightmon responded with a touch of irony to his voice. He traced his finger along the metal crest that adorned his breastplate. "Perhaps I am merely an image created by Yggdrasil to confuse you. Or perhaps I am a particularly convincing figment of your crazed imagination."
Bagramon stared at him in his entirety. He heard the scrape of metal, and he smelled the blood that dripped from DarkKnightmon's spear. It was no illusion.
A hurricane of emotions flowed through him at once. Relief, delight, anger, sorrow, confusion, fear… Each one emerged for mere, fleeting moments before being replaced by another. Yet none of these emotions showed on his face. The sensations that he felt inside became oppressed by the enormity of the situation. He continued looking at his resurrected brother with a stunned expression that gradually morphed into a calm frown.
"…But how?" he asked. "I was told that you had been deleted."
DarkKnightmon let out a scoff. "'Told'? You mean to say that you didn't even notice your own brother's soul passing to the Dark Area? You wound me."
Bagramon looked off to the right, a grim look appearing on the fleshy side of his face. "…I was since relieved of my duties as the Archangel of Death," he bitterly informed him. "That realm is no longer my official responsibility – merely a personal interest…"
"Yes…" DarkKnightmon coldly observed. His yellow eyes beheld Bagramon's wooden arm and leg. His gaze gradually shifted upwards from his hand and foot, travelling up the skeletal, wooden artifice that made up half of his ribcage, and stopping on Bagramon's face. The wooden half was turned away from him, but the slight gleam in Bagramon's artificial eye highlighted some of the carved contours. "…I can see that."
Bagramon closed his eye for a moment, summoning his courage. Then, he slowly turned his head to face DarkKnightmon directly, allowing him to see the entirety of his macabre face.
"Does my appearance surprise you, brother? Does it repulse you?" Bagramon asked him with a small, hollow smile. "Or, perhaps, you don't even remember my face from before. It was so long ago now… since we have last seen each other. And you have been dead, I take it…"
DarkKnightmon stared unflinchingly at his brother's face. There was no sorrow in his eyes, nor was there comedy. No emotion shone through as he beheld the Digimon who was so different from the brother he once knew.
"No… I remember how you once looked, Bagramon," DarkKnightmon distantly responded. "And, yes, I have been dead."
"So… How, then?" Bagramon asked him. "How are you here?"
"I cannot say with absolute certainty," he answered with a shrug. "I was reborn around two years ago, and I evolved abnormally swiftly. I remembered almost nothing… It was not until about a week ago, when DeadlyAxemon found me, that I remembered. I can only guess that there was some rare error with my reformatting due to being DigiXrosed when Alphamon deleted me. …Or perhaps it was our combined force of will that caused it, if you prefer a more romanticized explanation."
Bagramon looked down with a bitter smile. "…DeadlyAxemon, you say? I suppose that is only fitting… This wouldn't be the first time that he corrupted you."
DarkKnightmon's posture stiffened imperceptibly. "…Is that all you have to say?"
"…No… I'm sorry. This is all just a lot to absorb. Of course I am relieved that you are alive, SkullKnightmon," Bagramon assured him.
"Are you, Bagramon…?" DarkKnightmon cynically challenged him. "After all, we have not spoken since that day… that argument in which we disowned each other. Much has changed since then… Much has changed for me… and surely for you, as well…"
DarkKnightmon's pointed words were not lost upon Bagramon's ears. He could not deny that, while part of him was relieved to see him alive, there was a portion of his heart that still simmered with dormant feelings that had been left unresolved from that day. He had long put his brother behind him, but now he was forced to confront those feelings again. It would have been easier for him if he felt nothing at all, like he had before…
Bagramon looked down at his artificial arm, uncurling and curling his wooden fingers with a soft creak. "…Lilithmon told me all about your attempted coup against Alphamon – that was how you came to be banished to the Dark Area with the Demon Lords," he explained. "I also heard about your full-blown rebellion against the Order, as well as your attempt to destroy the World Tree. I heard about that – and of your death at Alphamon's hands – as I was browsing herbs at the market…"
DarkKnightmon stood silent. He spoke no word of defence or protest. He simply stared at Bagramon's face.
"…Tell me, DarkKnightmon. What are you doing here? Why have you come here? Why have you snuck into my tent in the dead of night?"
"Have you come here to kill me…?" Bagramon challenged the fallen knight, his eye a defiant glare.
However, a small and scornful grin then emerged on Bagramon's lips. "Or… perhaps you have come here to laugh at me," he cynically mused.
"And what, brother, would I have to laugh at you about…?" DarkKnightmon wondered, stroking his chin ponderously. "Are you referring to how you gave up everything – your home, your fortune, your own brother – to fund the Sky Colony project? And yet, for all your ideals, your zeal and passion, you then betrayed the very Heavenly Choir that you so ardently tried to convince me the righteousness of? …Or are you referring to how you gave everything to your so-called God only for it to smite you down and maim your body beyond recognition as punishment for your rebellion?"
DarkKnightmon tilted his head with mock curiosity. "Or perhaps you think I find it humorous that you have launched yet another revolution, this time against both God and Yggdrasil, the very being whose tree you used to reconstruct your own body with after your last failed attempt? Now, do you really think I would come to laugh at you after all that?"
Bagramon's eye narrowed. "…Something like that, yes…" he coldly answered.
The dark knight scoffed. "Well, brother, you are half-right. I would laugh if all of this weren't so insane. No, in fact, I can only laugh at the insanity of this all. You have aligned yourself with these Demon Lord degenerates in an attempt to… do what exactly? Destroy God and Yggdrasil? Create a new world order? The sheer folly of this preposterous scheme can only be described as lunacy."
DarkKnightmon shook his head derisively. "You once insisted that Yggdrasil was a false distraction, and that God and the Heavenly Choir were the true way. You felt so strongly that you devoted everything to that cause. And then, when you became disillusioned with the way they did things, you said that God and the Three Great Angels were to blame for everything, so you put your backing behind a bunch of fallen angels. Now, you claim that both God and Yggdrasil exist and that you will conquer them both, even if you must crush the Heavenly Choir and Royal Knights to do so?"
Bagramon calmly held firm underneath DarkKnightmon's cynical accusations. "I have learned much, brother. I have experienced much. I have sought the truth behind all the lies. I have seen the cruelty, the apathy, and the injustice of this world. You may call me a hypocrite if you wish, but I feel no shame for the way I have changed or the things I have done. It is no hypocrisy to change your beliefs when confronted with the truth," Bagramon adamantly explained. "I am no longer the naïve older brother that you want to portray me as. I am the one who will bring truth to this world of lies and decay."
DarkKnightmon released an empty laugh. "No matter how much you have experienced, you will never be able to let go of your own sense of righteousness. You will never be able to accept a world that is anything less than your own utopian standards," he lamented. "Don't you see now, Bagramon? You have become crushed underneath the weight of all your lofty ideals…"
Bagramon matched eyes with his younger sibling, refusing to back down. "Laugh at me all you want, brother. However, know that every laugh is one reflected back at you. After all, you betrayed the Royal Knights – the Order whose cause you so passionately believed in. You turned on the friends that you came to love. You are no better than I am. Do not pretend otherwise."
DarkKnightmon turned his head slightly. "I believed in them once, yes… That belief eventually faded," he distantly mused. "The core of this world was too rotten for even the Royal Knights to fix. Their remedies were too weak – too superficial… They were unwilling to go as far as was necessary to truly change anything. He was…"
Bagramon smiled sadly. "Then your allegiances have changed, just as mine have," he explained. "And it is the roots of this world that are rotten… Far too rotten to be left in the custodianship of an amoral administrator and an absent caretaker… a pair of absent gods."
"You say you believe this world is rotten, and yet you went and aligned yourselves with the Demon Lords. Do you honestly believe they have the Digital World's best interests in mind?"
Bagramon scoffed. "It is no more than what you tried to do in the Dark Area," he reminded his brother. "Yes, Lilithmon told me all about how you wanted to become one of the Demon Lords."
At this, DarkKnightmon visibly grimaced with shame. "…I wanted power…" he bitterly admitted. "I was a misguided fool – just as you are being now."
"Oh?" Bagramon coolly replied. "And what is it you desire now, little brother? What will you do with your new life? Will you curse the world and try to usurp the Royal Knights again? Will you try to dominate the Digital World under your own order?"
After a few moments of uncertain rumination, DarkKnightmon stared down at Bagramon with a newly focused resolve.
"…I will stop you. You – and the Demon Lords."
Bagramon, unperturbed by the threat, merely raised a brow. "Why?" he wondered. "You yourself told me that Yggdrasil was no more than an amoral program. You say that the world is rotten as it is; why, then, would you seek to preserve the overlordships of the ones who have made it this way?"
DarkKnightmon clutched his spear tighter. "…Because I believe that whatever you and your 'allies' seek to replace it with will be much worse. This world will not survive your rampant idealism, brother."
Bagramon shook his head. "Nor will it survive the current state of the world. It will not survive those too blindly obedient to their amoral gods nor those too cynical to strive for something greater."
"You really believe that you can set this world on the right path, don't you?" DarkKnightmon realized. "You think that you can do away with Yggdrasil, the Royal Knights, and… the Demon Lords as well? Is that it, Bagramon?"
Bagramon stared at DarkKnightmon coolly, without so much as a word. He neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.
"Then… you really are mad – drunk on your own vision of utopia," DarkKnightmon explained.
"…Tell me, brother, what kind of Digimon would I be if I did not try to make the world better?" Bagramon rhetorically asked. "If I simply sat around, hoping for the best, nothing would ever change, would it? After all… only power can alter power. You said so yourself…"
"Bagramon…"
Bagramon's eye hardened. "Now… I suggest you leave," he warned him. "Unless, of course, you intend to make good on your threat and you attempt to kill me right now. I would not recommend it, as I am far more powerful than you realise…"
DarkKnightmon scowled and raised the Twin Spear slightly.
"Steady, little brother…" Bagramon advised him, raising his wooden arm. "I don't know how you slipped in here unnoticed, but if you make too much noise, this entire army encampment will descend on you and you will waste this second chance of yours… Be smart."
"Curses…" DarkKnightmon spoke, glancing around the tent. He heard a pair of footsteps pass, past where he had killed the guard.
He slowly backed towards the flap of the tent. "…This is not the end of this, Bagramon," he warned him. "You will see me again."
DarkKnightmon's eyes flashed menacingly. "And I will stop you."
Bagramon watched as DarkKnightmon spun around and dashed out of the tent with but a flutter of fabric. He was gone as fast as he had appeared.
"…Farewell, brother…" Bagramon coldly spoke.
Then a moment later, he released a shaky breath. His giant, wooden hand suddenly tightened into a clenched fist with a powerful snap. He glared down at his lap, his eye wide with rage and his organic hand trembling.
"…It doesn't matter… Not even you will stop me, DarkKnightmon. Not even my own resurrected brother will stop what I have put into motion now. It's too late. I have already decided…"
"This rot must be weeded out from this world. The Digital World itself must be purged from the inside out. And anybody who stands in my way will be purged as well…"
Bagramon released an uneven sigh as he climbed out of bed, ignoring the sounds of frantic voices shouting outside.
"Even you… SkullKnightmon…"
An hour passed.
It was still dark out. There was an hour or so before dawn.
Blitzmon walked along the outskirts of camp. He traversed the hundred-meter-wide buffer zone that separated Kowloon Company's camp from the Nightmare Soldiers' camp.
He and Bolgmon were on neither side of the two camps. They pitched their tent as close as possible to Bagramon's, whose tent was on the southern outskirts, straddling the division between the two camps.
There was a commotion late at night that woke them up. Guards were running around shouting, and most of the camp had been woken up by the stir. It was almost dawn anyways, which meant it would be time to leave soon.
Blitzmon decided he needed to use this dawn twilight as a chance to speak to Bagramon. This would likely be his only chance before the army left again. They were running out of time. He had things that he needed cleared up now.
Blitzmon looked around him. To his right, he saw the recently-scrambled Nightmare Soldiers getting organized into their legions by the senior demon officers and aristocrats. To his left, the mercenaries of Kowloon Company were also getting organized into their units.
There was a heavy air of tension hanging over the camp. It wasn't just the animosity between the demons and the mercenaries… It was something else. A stifling oppressiveness. An air of anticipation… like that moment when a school of MetalPiranimon first notices blood in the water.
Something big was happening. It felt like an out-of-control GrandLocomon, packed full with a freight of explosives, that was teetering off the rails. An unstoppable machine that couldn't be stopped that was running headlong towards oblivion. You could either hang on for dear life or throw yourself over the side while you still could.
Blitzmon frowned deeply. That's what it was beginning to feel like to him. This was a military campaign that seemed intent on crushing the Royal Knights and capturing… conquering… - he wasn't sure what – Yggdrasil or God or some such. He wasn't sure and he didn't particularly care. What bothered him most about his ignorance was that he didn't know what he and Bolgmon were still doing there.
They had wanted to detach from the army at Shroud. Then, they had wanted to detach at Saversburg. However, both times they asked Bagramon, he brushed off their concerns with placating words and insisted that they remain with the army. Bagramon had told them that he might still need their services in the future, but he had yet to give them any concrete orders or jobs. Blitzmon understood that Bagramon has been busy with the campaign and the various battles… but something wasn't sitting right with him. He felt uneasy, not knowing where they stood. He needed to find out.
"Hey! Blitzmon! Heeeeeey!" a familiar voice called out from behind him. "Don't leave me behind!"
Blitzmon turned around to see Bolgmon rolling towards him, trying his best to catch up to him. The insect-tank drove up to him, glancing around skittishly as he approached.
"Bolgmon. There you are," Blitzmon greeted him. "Did you find out what the commotion was about?"
"I heard some weirdo in a suit killed a squad of guards and then snuck into Bagramon's tent to try to assassinate him!" Bolgmon bombastically explained, hastily driving up alongside him. "That was right next to our tent! And they said that psycho's still out there!"
"Hm. No wonder everyone's running around," Blitzmon responded with measure. "Bagramon is fine though. Apparently he's speaking to Kowloon's sub-commander."
"Tch. Junior sub-commander," Bolgmon bitterly scoffed. "I don't trust that twinkly bastard. I don't trust any of these Kowloon jerks."
"Neither do I," Blitzmon murmured, leering cautiously at the Kowloon mercenaries gathering to their left as well as ahead of them.
"So, where're you going?" Bolgmon pressed, rolling up beside him.
"To speak with Bagramon. I told you that already."
"Well, why'd you leave without me?" he complained. "I don't wanna be on my own with some armoured nutcase running around."
"Stop being a baby," Blitzmon told him with a roll of his eyes.
Bolgmon folded his arms petulantly. "It ain't just that…" he grumbled. "Something doesn't feel right… I can't get comfy around here. Something just feels off. You know what I'm talking about?"
At this, Blitzmon frowned deeply and took note of what Bolgmon was saying. The truth of the matter was that he agreed with him. He couldn't feel relaxed, but he wasn't sure why.
"…Yes. That's why I want to talk to Bagramon," Blitzmon succinctly responded, maintaining his control of the situation. "I'm going to ask him if he has any jobs for us, and if he doesn't…"
"Yeah… okay," Bolgmon responded, looking around with his head ducked. "I'll back you up."
Bolgmon looked ahead of them and saw two Kowloon Company mercenaries – a Cyclomon and a RedVegimon – walking towards them.
The Cyclomon and the RedVegimon both saw the two insect Digimon and continued walking towards them undeterred. They grinned mischievously.
Blitzmon watched as the two mercenaries continued towards them on a collision course. They were acting as if they owned the place. Right as the Cyclomon was about to bowl him over, Blitzmon relented and quickly side-stepped to avoid getting knocked down.
The Cyclomon grazed Blitzmon's shoulder roughly, knocking him into Bolgmon's side and walking straight past as if he wasn't there. Blitzmon grunted and caught hold of Bolgmon's shoulder to keep himself standing.
The Cyclomon merely grunted and shot them an intimidating side-eye, all while the RedVegimon burst out cackling at their expense.
Bolgmon growled and whirled towards them with anger. "Hey! Watch where you're going, you Kowloon bastards!" he snapped.
"Tiny bugs should stay out of the way, unless they want to get squashed," the Cyclomon rumbled.
"Wahahaha!" the RedVegimon laughed, hopping out from behind the Cyclomon. "Don't worry about them, Cyclomon! They're just a couple of small-time mercs who thought they could actually start their own company!"
"What?!" Bolgmon yelled, his eye twitching in rage. He backed up and fully turned to face them.
"Heh. What do you call yourselves again? Brown Abdomen Company or something? Eh, you're so insignificant, I already forgot," the RedVegimon taunted them. "And let me guess, the only members you have are you two poor saps! Haha! That's hilarious!"
"Sad, really," the Cyclomon added.
"Pathetic, even!" the RedVegimon exclaimed. "And what's even more pathetic is you two pests hitching yourselves to Bagramon's wagon like the bloodsuckers you are because your 'company' is so pathetic that nobody else will hire you! I know a couple of opportunistic insects when I see 'em!"
"Shut your shitty mouth, you stinky, little turnip!" Bolgmon shouted, beginning to whip his cannon arm up. "Or I'll shut it for you!"
However, before he could move his arm even halfway, Blitzmon caught his arm and held it tight. Despite his fiery rage, Bolgmon looked at Blitzmon first. He saw the stern stare in Blitzmon's calm, calculating eyes, telling him not to do what he wanted to do.
"Ignore them, Bolgmon," Blitzmon told him, calm and in control. "Don't rise to it. We're better than them."
"What?!" RedVegimon incredulously yawped. "In what universe do you figure that?!"
Blitzmon glared at the pair with cold confidence. "We have been crucial to Bagramon's plans. We have his ear, as well as his protection," he succinctly explained, his words like a knife slicing through butter. "You two are just a couple of Kowloon foot soldiers who probably won't even make it through the next battle. I'd rather be 'small-time mercenaries', as you put it, than Royal Knight fodder."
The RedVegimon glowered contemptuously at them. "Why you…!"
"Come on, Bolgmon," Blitzmon spoke, walking ahead without regard for growing amount of Kowloon mercenaries glaring daggers at them. "We have to speak to Bagramon."
Bolgmon grinned and made a rude gesture with his auxiliary arms at the Kowloon mercenaries. Then, the two members of Black Pincer Company continued walking down the buffer zone towards the front of the camp.
"Don't rise to them, Bolgmon," Blitzmon advised him. "They are looking for an excuse to blow off steam and they see us as easy targets."
"Yeah, yeah… I just hate those big mercenary company assholes," Bolgmon grumbled. "Always acting like they're better than us…"
"I know, but bear with it. Be smart, be patient, and we'll have the last laugh," Blitzmon assured him. "It's the same as how it's always been."
"Grandis always knew just the right thing to say to pricks like them," Bolgmon muttered without thinking. Then, after a second, he glowered at himself and looked away from Blitzmon as if he had just made a faux pas.
Blitzmon didn't react. He remained silent and continued walking.
As they walked, he glanced to the right, towards the Demon Lords' army. He warily scanned their frontlines – particularly their commanders and officers.
Blitzmon caught sight of one of the Legions' commanders – a Digitamamon. He remembered the egg-shaped body of that particular low-level aristocrat. Baron Digitamamon seemed to be talking with an Evilmon attendant.
Blitzmon watched as the Digitamamon quickly and surreptitious took a note from the Evilmon's hands and pulled his shadowy hand, as well as the note, back inside his shell. The Digitamamon then looked around cautiously to make sure that nobody saw him.
The mercenary looked ahead, pretending he hadn't seen anything. He didn't ask questions. Whatever might be going on in the army, it didn't concern him. He was only concerned about himself and Bolgmon.
After a few more minutes of walking, they reached the edge of the two camps. Ahead of them, they saw Bagramon.
Bagramon appeared active and unharmed. It was possible that the rumour of the assassination attempt was overstated.
He was currently talking with Barbamon and DarkSuperStarmon, presumably about Kowloon Company's tactics and placement in the upcoming operation.
"There are two ways that their ground forces could come from," Barbamon stated, crouching over a crude map of the Chasm of Creation. "They will most likely come from the Chasm's southern pass, but we can't rule out a surprise attack from either the northern pass amidst an aerial attack from above. I would have one brigade of Kowloon Company here guarding the northern pass, and the other two brigades here along the Legions' left flank."
DarkSuperStarmon watched with folded arms as Barbamon drew markers on the map. "Hm…" he replied non-committally. He adjusted his sunglasses and turned to look at Bagramon for his input. "What do you think? Is that good with you?"
Barbamon's eye twitched and he crooked his head towards Bagramon with a sneering smile. "Yeeesss, do we have your permission, Bagramon?" he sarcastically wondered. "You are holding the purse strings of this fine mercenary company after all…"
"Yes. Fine," Bagramon tersely responded with a sharp wave of his organic hand. He sounded distracted and impatient, as if he didn't want to deal with either Barbamon or any of this right now. "For the Chasm of Creation operation, you two can work out Kowloon Company's battle placement between you. You have my permission, DarkSuperStarmon."
"Why, how magnanimous of you, Bagramon," Barbamon answered in mock-sycophancy.
DarkSuperStarmon nodded his star-shaped body. Then, he adjusted his sunglasses and shifted his gaze when he noticed Blitzmon and Bolgmon approaching from behind Bagramon.
"Tch…" DarkSuperStarmon derisively grunted, glaring at the two Black Pincer Company mercenaries. "Look who it is… We're in the middle of something that's actually important, bugs, in case that wasn't obvious. Crawl along."
Bolgmon scowled and began to retort. "Why you scrawny little—"
Blitzmon placed a hand on his chest to stop him. Blitzmon ignored the mercenary captain's taunts and stared intensely at Bagramon, who stood with his back to them.
Barbamon crooked his head towards the two insects with extreme apathy. However, as he eyed the two bugs, he became drawn to Blitzmon with what could only be described as mild curiosity.
"Oh? What do we have here…?" Barbamon wondered, inspecting Blitzmon and the look of intensity in the bug man's green eyes.
"…Can we speak, Bagramon?" Blitzmon asked his client, careful in his words but firm in his urgency.
"Want me to get rid of them?" DarkSuperStarmon offered, glaring at the two with a look that made it seem like he was relishing the idea.
Bagramon barely reacted, at least not noticeably. He seemed cold… rigid. His shoulder was locked tight, and his hand was balled into a fist.
"…It is fine," he finally spoke, a cold chill in his voice. "Go finish up with Barbamon over there."
"Right… I won't go too far," DarkSuperStarmon assured him. He began walking, but not before giving Blitzmon and Bolgmon a spiteful glare through his sunglasses.
"Don't worry about us, Bagramon. Go entreat your other personal mercenaries," Barbamon pointedly stated, walking past the other fallen angel.
Before he left, however, Barbamon walked over to Blitzmon, wearing an amused grin on his lips. "Hah… A little bug with big aspirations…" he teased.
The Demon Lord of Greed stopped in front of Blitzmon, looking straight into his eyes.
"I know that look anywhere… I know that feeling… That's the look of someone who isn't satisfied with what they have… The insatiable look of someone hungry for more," Barbamon chuckled darkly, lightly tapping Blitzmon's chest with his staff. "Hold onto that craving, bug. It will guide you to riches untold…"
Blitzmon didn't reply. He stared at Barbamon with a confused and unsettled frown.
Barbamon merely chuckled and walked past him, making his way with DarkSuperStarmon to a spot several paces away.
As soon as the Demon Lord was gone, Blitzmon released the breath that he was holding. Shaking off the chill he felt, he returned his attention to Bagramon.
The fallen angel had yet to turn around, even after Barbamon and DarkSuperStarmon left. He remained quiet… focused.
"Bagramon…" Blitzmon addressed him.
Then, Bagramon suddenly turned his head to the left.
His glare was sharp and piercing, and his eye tight and haggard. The corner of his eye was wrinkled and his brow was low as he stared straight into Blitzmon with a look that he had never seen from him before.
"What is it?" Bagramon tersely demanded. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Blitzmon frowned and hesitated. The briskness of his voice and the withering stare was enough to give him pause. However, he reminded himself that he was there for a crucial reason. He wasn't about to back down now.
"I apologize," Blitzmon diplomatically began. "However, I have an urgent matter to discuss with you."
Bagramon stared at him with cool annoyance for a few moments. However, he closed his eye and exhaled softly with reluctant acquiescence. "Very well… Make it quick, please," he told them.
Blitzmon gave Bolgmon a silent look that told him to let him do the talking. Then he approached.
"Alright… Since you want expedience, I'll cut straight to the point," Blitzmon stated, stopping in front of Bagramon and fixing him an assertive stare. "At your request, Bolgmon and I have been travelling with this army since we left the Gloaming Fields."
Bagramon turned fully to face him. The black hollow of Bagramon's artificial eye glowed with a subtle intensity as it locked onto the beetle man before him.
"…Yes?"
Blitzmon's stare hardened. "So far, this army has been in two battles with the Royal Knights. I realise you've been busy, but, since we left, you haven't given us any jobs. As far as we can tell, it seems like this army is headed on a direct course for the Chasm of Creation, and it sounds like you expect a final confrontation with the Royal Knights," he explained. "We want to know where we stand. When are you going to give us an actual job?"
A weary and empty smile formed on Bagramon's bearded face. "Ah, I see… Of course. You are worried about your bottom line," he realised.
"Well… Fear not. I do have a job for you both. That is why I asked you both to come along with me"
Bolgmon looked at Bagramon quizzically. "You do?"
"What is it?" Blitzmon pressed.
Bagramon raised his large, wooden arm and gestured to the ranks behind them.
"This is the job, Blitzmon," Bagramon bluntly explained. "I expect you to stay with me until I see this through to the end."
Blitzmon blinked, swiftly looked at the army, and then back at Bagramon. He gazed at Bagramon's face and saw no hint of jest or irony. He was completely serious.
Blitzmon's heart sunk like a stone in quicksand. His eyes slowly widened as he parsed the meaning of Bagramon's words.
"What…?" Blitzmon asked. "You don't mean… You aren't saying you expect us to go into battle with you…"
Bagramon's ruby eye flickered. "That is exactly what I am saying, Blitzmon," he confirmed in no uncertain terms.
Blitzmon glowered defiantly. "That… That wasn't part of the deal!" he protested. "That isn't what we agreed! Black Pincer Company doesn't do large-scale battles. We're not Kowloon. We are a specialized team of two Digimon who perform covert jobs and that's what you hired us for—"
"No!" Bagramon suddenly snapped, his words cracking like a thunderclap. "I hired you to do whatever I tell you to do, Blitzmon."
Blitzmon hesitated, seeing the dangerous glower on Bagramon's face and the bright glow in his eyes. "…Our contract said—"
Bagramon let out a breath, reining in his anger and frustration. "Your contract said nothing that precludes warfare," he informed him, calmly this time, but no less resolute. "In fact, if you'll remember, after GrandisKuwagamon was captured, you modified your contract to expand the types of jobs you were willing to do. Verbally, you told me that 'anything I needed you to do, you would do it'. So long as you are paid."
Blitzmon's glare hardened, a bead of sweat dripping down the inside of his face mask. "I didn't mean this," he protested. "We aren't soldiers. If you want cannon fodder, you have Kowloon Company and your demons for that. There is no reason for us to take part in a battle like this."
Bagramon's glare hardened and he peered at the two with cold judgement. "No… There is a reason… You two have loose ends that you need to clean up. A mess you made from your past mistakes," he coldly reminded them, "An old friend of yours is with the Royal Knights… GrandisKuwagamon. …And that brother of his that you mentioned…"
Blitzmon and Bolgmon both looked at him with stunned shock and confusion. "What…?" Bolgmon asked, barely holding back his outrage. "Why the hell do you care about that?!"
"Bagramon… why are you doing this?" Blitzmon demanded, glaring bitterly at his client.
Bagramon stared down Blitzmon with an unshakeable glare. There was a dark tenacity in his eyes, a simmering fervour.
"Blitzmon… Bolgmon… Have you ever committed to anything? Have you ever fully put your weight behind something that you care about – something that you value so much that you could never even consider wavering from it?" he asked them. "Have you ever done something purely because it was the right thing to do? Have ever sacrificed anything for the greater good of the world?"
Bagramon closed his one eye and smiled. "Or… perhaps the type of Digimon who become mercenaries aren't like that. Perhaps you never agree to anything without first scouting an exit. Perhaps you cannot comprehend doing anything for its own sake. Perhaps you will only commit to something if you are promised a monetary reward. Perhaps Digimon like you cannot even conceive of sacrificing for anything other than your own personal gain…"
The fallen angel opened his eye, gazing down at the bug mercenary. "Tell me, Blitzmon… Is that the type of Digimon you are?"
Blitzmon scowled. He nervously stepped back beside Bolgmon. He felt cold sweat on his skin, staining the orange bodysuit underneath his armour. "What do you want from us…?"
"Blitzmon, Bolgmon… What I want Black Pincer Company to do is to sacrifice with me. I want you to help me make this world a better place," Bagramon explained with a veneer of calmness. "If you do that… I promise you all the riches that you desire in the new world that I create."
"So, Blitzmon, Bolgmon…" he spoke with a simmering glow in his demon eye. "Sacrifice with me."
Blitzmon clenched his fists, eyeing the Demon Lord suspiciously. "Why do I get the sense that there isn't a place for Digimon like us in your new world?"
"Because I am a Digimon who is true to his word," Bagramon informed him. "I value truth and the pledges that I have made. I will not forsake those who have helped me. All that I expect in return is that same loyalty. I expect you both to prove to me that you have the capacity to be loyal."
Blitzmon uneasily glanced at Bolgmon, who was looking at him with skittish apprehension. "…Can we have some time to talk it over?" he asked, looking back at Bagramon.
Bagramon frowned at his words. "You misunderstand me, Blitzmon…" he informed him. "I am not asking you; I am explaining to you. You will be taking part in the next battle."
Bagramon aloofly turned away from them. "Your fortunes will live or die on our success or failure in this next battle… Think of that as incentive," he tiredly explained.
He gazed out into the dark landscape distractedly, watching as dawn crept over the horizon.
"After all… you are soldiers of fortune. You should know better than anyone that the wheel of fortune spins for us all…"
Bolgmon scowled and rolled forward defiantly. He had heard enough. "Damn it, you half-roasted bastard… And what if we say no?!" he demanded.
"Heh," a higher voice spoke up from nearby. "I wouldn't do that if I were you…"
Blitzmon and Bolgmon both turned their heads to see DarkSuperStarmon come walking over. The short, violet star stepped up beside Bagramon, as if to show his support.
Bolgmon glowered at the star's braggadocious interference. "You pint-sized, little—"
"Shut that big mouth of yours. You don't get it, do you? What position do you think you're in right now?" DarkSuperStarmon warned him. "If you're not with us, then that makes you enemies. You wanna try fighting your way out of this army camp? Just try it. I'd love to have an excuse to blow your oversized, metal butt to smithereens."
Bolgmon glared with bitter hatred, but he didn't make a move. Despite his burning anger, he knew the ramifications of acting out of turn right now. He didn't need Blitzmon to tell him that.
Bolgmon turned to Blitzmon, who was looking down with a deep frown. "Blitz… Hey, Blitz. What do we do…?" he whispered.
Blitzmon looked up at him reluctantly. "We don't have a choice… We have to do it," he said aloud.
Bagramon cast one final look at the two bug mercenaries. "Thank you for your cooperation. …I am not unreasonable, Bolgmon. Just do what is expected of you," he resignedly told them. "Kill the enemy. That's all. You take pleasure in that, don't you, Bolgmon?"
With that, Bagramon turned and began to wander away.
"Tch… Don't even think about making a run for it," DarkSuperStarmon warned the pair. "I'll be keeping an eye on you two. If you try any funny business, I'll bring the entire weight of Kowloon down on your sorry asses. And that'd be a mercy compared to what Demon would do to you two."
Blitzmon shot him a glare, but looked at Bagramon for some sort of intercession on their behalf. However, he didn't respond, as if giving his tacit agreement. Bagramon merely continued walking away.
"Heh… You're not so special any more, are you?" DarkSuperStarmon taunted them. He pointed his red glove at the two bugs. "Watch yourselves…"
DarkSuperStarmon turned and walked off to meet up with his junior Kowloon officers
Bolgmon remained still. His body was shaking with rage… rage and anxiety. The large, beetle tank raised his horned head and looked down at Blitzmon beside him.
"Blitz… Are… Are we really goin' through with this?" he asked him. There was a fretful hitch in his voice.
Blitzmon looked down at the ground, his fists tight against his sides. He stared at his boots, which were half-sunken into the mud that they were standing in.
For several seconds, he was silent. He felt like he was sinking… sinking into the very mud he was standing in. They were trapped and he knew it. His mind raced as he tried to think of a way out. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a way that didn't end with their deaths.
"…Blitz?"
Blitzmon fought back a grimace, trying to steel his nerve in front of Bolgmon. He looked up and turned to his partner.
"I know how you feel, Bolgmon – I do – but we don't have a choice," Blitzmon explained to him, his voice cold with pragmatism. "We are committed now. We're in too deep. We just have to play this smart and we'll make it through…"
Bolgmon frowned uneasily, but he nodded. He looked down a little, trying to cast away the doubts that were invading his heart and mind.
He would do whatever Blitzmon told him to do. He had no alternative. He knew Blitzmon was smarter than he was, and he trusted him completely. He wouldn't do anything without him…
After all, without Blitzmon, he would have nothing. Nobody.
"…Okay… Whatever you think, Blitz. I'll do whatever you say," Bolgmon promised him.
Blitzmon winced at his words, feeling guilt strike his heart like a small jolt of electricity. "…Don't put that kind of responsibility on my shoulders, damn it," he murmured, clenching his fists tightly. "Say that you want this too…"
Bolgmon frowned. "…I want this. I'll wipe out whoever I need to if gets you and me through this together," he assured him.
Blitzmon turned his head away. "…Just lay low. Don't make yourself a target. Do the bare minimum to make it seem like you're fighting," he instructed him. "Plan the logistics like you usually do and be mindful of all routes."
Blitzmon looked ahead, trying to muster his determination. As dawn broke, he stepped out of the mud and onto the grass.
"We need to see this through… If we don't, everything that we've worked to achieve – everything that we've survived – will be for nothing."
Bolgmon frowned and nodded, driving up out of the mud beside Blitzmon. "Yeah… I'm with you, Blitzmon. We'll do it."
Blitzmon nodded at Bolgmon before turning away. He gazed out at the dawn horizon, watching as dim light began to appear behind the thick, apocalyptic clouds.
Despite his outward words of resolve, he felt doubt creeping deeper and deeper into his heart.
His fist tightened, and a worried grimace flashed on his face outside of Bolgmon's view.
"Grandis… Should we have listened to you?"
Blitzmon turned away from the stifled dawn light, and looked back at Bolgmon and the armies amassing behind them in the receding dusk.
"Have… we made a mistake?"