“Solar Spikes!”

Coremon’s arms came together instinctively, a barrier of blinding yellow flames erupting and spraying out in a cross-shaped blast. It expanded in a second, the firepower immense for the new Elite’s small body. But still there was a black flash within the yellow, and Coremon’s legs sprang backwards as he was immediately forced onto the defensive.

The lemur spun forwards in a blaze of darkness, her entire body becoming ethereal, and with a single, pinpointed strike she landed a punch right in the middle of Coremon’s forehead.

“Phobos Phantasm.”

In an instant Coremon’s vision was filled by the assailant’s piercing gaze, which blasted through him, over every patch of fur on his body, beneath his feet, under his skin. He flinched, uncontrollably, and the shadow matter slammed into him again, throwing him backwards against the wall with an intense force.

He curled, willing his limbs to take over as he let gravity force him upright, and with a shake and a blast from his forearms he was free, just in time to see the lemur reform herself in front of him. He sprung again, swiping with a flaming claw and slashing her cloak, but her reflexes were easily on par with his, and she leapt up, pulling herself along the walls and ceiling with great leaps as she rushed down the ruined hallway.

“Don’t...let her...get away!”

Muspelmon’s voice was hoarse, but still coherent. Coremon’s eyes flickered sideways just for a brief moment, seeing the titan roll over, holding a hand against the ground as magma dripped down from his head wound. Coremon wanted to stop. He wanted to stay and help. But his soldier’s heart beat back at the panic and worry, and forced him into the moment.

“Yes sir.”

He ran off within a second, leaving the fallen general alone in his ruined quarters.

Near silently, Sifamon cursed under her breath as she powered down the hall, her feet leaving no sound even as she kicked back and forth. She’d been caught off guard, and the attack had forced her to jettison a good chunk of shadow matter. It took precious minutes to return to her normal calm state, and as she was, she knew she was vulnerable. Once inside the fortress, there were precious few gaps she could slip out through. And judging by the increasing level of noise, inside was going to get very dangerous very quickly.

Voices, just a turn ahead. She spied a vent and forced herself upwards, following the curve of the metal and ignoring the burning heat. Newcomers she could handle with some tricks of the light; she just needed to make sure she stayed out of sight of her pursu-

“Mollumon, down!”

Sifamon started, seeing the other two Rookies before her; Mollumon and Serpemon, slithering at a pace. The octopus was already descending, the torches dimming briefly and giving her a chance to slip into the shadows on the other corner. She waited, judging every movement by the millisecond, before springing.

In a flash of red, Coremon was already there, clambering up his fellow soldier’s body before he even had a chance to react, and spinning in mid-air.

“Solar Spikes!”

“DAMN you!”

Sifamon changed her stance, instead bringing one muscular leg around in a sweeping kick. It connected with Coremon’s own attack, sending him crashing downwards again. But the move had made its mark. Now she was visible to all three of them. And the flash of white at the far end indicated that the real threats – the Commanders themselves – weren’t far behind.

She twisted herself, running down the wall as she pulled a lance of darkness from her cloak, throwing it at pinpoint precision at a point just behind the stunned Elites.

“Black Pirouette!”

Waves of shadow burst out as she spun down the line, forming spikes that peppered the three Rookies. She landed in a flurry, rolling sideways and up the opposite side as the first of the Commanders turned the corner. In a fleeting second she glanced down, ensuring that Coremon was still down.

Wrong move.

“Acid Flare!”

Another flash and burn, this one rolling across her chest in a green blaze, thrown by Serpemon. She hissed, clambering up further as she tried to pull the flames away, but there was no more time. The hallway was lit up, and her shadows retracted into her, showing nearly her fully corporeal form. She gripped the top of the window as she witnessed Santelmon’s celestial form expand not thirty metres away, the statue blazing wildly.

“Bombardimon, shut it down!”

There was a pneumatic crack, and the sound of pistons, and she felt her grip failing on the window as the pane began to close, this side of the fortress shutting down. Lights and sounds. Perfect chaos in such a small space. She looked forward, her eye only on one thing for the past few seconds.

The space opposite her where Muspelmon’s attack had broken through the wall.

“Seraphic Purge!”

“Black Pirouette!”

The lemur shot forwards in a pinpoint twister, disappearing through the crack within a millisecond. The white flames reared up, Santelmon pulling back to avoid hitting the three Elites, even as Coremon scrambled upwards obliviously, reaching for the assailant’s trailing tail.

He wasn’t quick enough. And she pulled away into the shadows.

“DAMNIT!”

The manticore slid down, landing like a cat as the others crowded around him. Santelmon was trying to pull his own internal fire back under his control, while behind him, Fornaxmon was rapidly approaching, his pistons whirring.

“What’s going on? What’s happened here?”

Mollumon rolled his shoulders, trying to look professional despite his colleague’s pawprint in the middle of his forehead. A professionalism that Serpemon wasn’t going to allow him.

“I’m assuming that the loud explosion and the fact that you’ve just chased a renegade monkey out the area are related somehow?”

Coremon swallowed, turning in a hurry. “She attacked Muspelmon.”

“What?”

“I...came as fast as I could. She was there with a hunting knife, and he was down and badly hurt.” He turned hurriedly to Santelmon. “He told me to go after her but he looked bad. He needs help.”

Santelmon twisted, sharing a silent glance at Fornaxmon. They nodded, and the shining Commander rushed off in an instant, his flames already reaching ahead. Coremon held a hand to his mouth, feeling the beating of his own heart catching in his throat.

“We need to stop her. I don’t know who she is or what she’s after but she’s already gone for one of our leaders.”

“Can we stop her?”

Mollumon looked at the wall, and reached out, pulling shadow matter away at the tip of a tentacle.

“Can we even find her? She’s obviously one for subterfuge. Now she’s gone into the vents she could be anywhere.”

“Thank you and you’re welcome.”

The two Rookies and the remaining Commander looked at Serpemon, who was doing a terrible job at hiding the smugness on his face.

“She’s not far away. Makes sense, I suppose, after what you put her through, Corey.”

Fornaxmon looked down at the serpent, giving a bemused little puff of flame. Serpemon stuck his tongue out, and swung his tail forwards, the green globules of flame fluttering about inside.

“I managed to strike her. She won’t get it off so easily, and while she can’t, we can track her.”

It was true. As Coremon looked closely, he could see the little green lights dancing around in the globe, all throwing themselves against one edge of the ball, trying to reclaim the lost flame. Serpemon’s grin was the only thing that outshone them, and he shimmied sideways, nudging Mollumon with one shoulder.

“Go on then Wiggles. You impressed? I can tell you’re impressed. You want to say something.”

Mollumon harrumphed.

“You are...surprisingly useful sometimes.”

“We can’t stand around here!” yelled Coremon, planting a paw between the two. “She could be getting further away any minute.”

“She won’t be getting very far very fast.”

Mollumon reached up, planting one tentacle against the wall as more shadow residue fell out. “The grand hall isn’t just for show. There’s a maze of vents, chambers, pipes; everything this place needs runs through here. She can travel through shadows all she wants, but she’s going to get very lost if she’s not careful. And I suspect she doesn’t want to take any more chances.”

Serpemon placed a thumb to his mouth. “So what you’re saying is, she needs to get her bearings. And she can only do that if she knows the layout.”

“But she’s an outsider, so she won’t have the layout of all the vents. She has to navigate by rooms. And if I’ve got our location right...” The octopus stretched up, quickly scanning the orientation of the hallway, before slamming one tentacle in another. “The artillery archives. That’s the nearest cluster.”

Serpemon blinked. “You’ve memorised where everything is?”

“She’s an outsider. I’m a nerd. We’re born rivals.”

Fornaxmon crouched down. “The artillery rooms are a good several loops round from here. She’ll make it there before we can, and I can’t exactly fit through the vents.”

“No, but we can.” Coremon turned on his heel, his expression firm and decided once again. “Send us in. We can flush her out.”

Fornaxmon nodded, and without hesitation he reached aside, planting a gauntlet inside the torn wall. With a single, mighty movement and a jet of steam, he pulled, the entire panel pulling away as if it were paper, and revealing the pepperpot of vents concealed behind; some miniscule, others wide enough for the three Rookies.

In an instant Serpemon’s tail flashed, and he scrambled up the wall, hanging on outside one of the larger vents and pointing. “This way. She’s standing still for the moment.”

Coremon was with him in a second, while Mollumon slithered his way over to a couple of vents below, waving his companions on. “You go the direct route. I’ve got a plan.”

Serpemon and Coremon nodded, and vanished into the upper vent with a flash. Mollumon turned, looking up at Fornaxmon.

“See you round the other side. We’ve got this.”

“Aye, soldier.”

In an instant the octopus was gone as well, the faint rattling of his barrel echoing out from the torn wall. Fornaxmon clenched his gauntlet, before turning, and running back the way he’d come.

Every sound echoed through the ducts, amplified and echoing in the two soldiers’ ears. Coremon rushed forwards, his fingers scraping across the burnished copper as he followed Serpemon’s tail, and the green lights within. In the darkness it was clearer to see the green flames within as they lashed out in different directions, and with every lash the serpent would turn, crawling effortlessly through the tight spaces as well.

Presently the green lights pulsed, causing Coremon to blink. He opened his eyes, and saw another glimmer of green in the distance, following by the sound of scattering wind. They had her.

The two sped up, twisting and turning as the green glow got brighter and brighter, hints of a dark shape scuttling away just ahead of them.

“I’m going high.”

Serpemon’s whisper carried down the vent as he jumped up, scrambling into a turning and disappearing in an instant. Coremon didn’t slow; even without his companion’s tail he could see the green glow ahead, and his cat-like eyes were more than suited for the dark. That said, so were Sifamon’s. It was a tussle between familiarity and skill, tenacity and agility.

And Coremon was gaining.

His claws left sparks against the metal as he powered forwards, matching the running lemur pace for pace, eking away at her on the corners and never giving her a second to rest. He could feel his lungs burning but he blanked it out, focused single-handedly on catching his mentor’s assailant before him.

And then, light. They were by another room, running parallel with a wall, and all of a sudden she was exposed in full. Coremon took his chance, gritting his teeth as his arms began to flare up again.

But Sifamon turned, and her face was bathed in the orange of his flames, and the acid green of the patch over her chest, still burning from Serpemon’s strike. She tackled him, pushing him down onto the grating, and Coremon could see the flash of the hunting knife in her hand.

“Gangway!”

Coremon recognised the voice; he curled up, gripping the grate tightly as Serpemon bowled into the lemur, and both of them shot out of the side of the vent and into the room beyond.

The manticore avoided getting knocked out, and he curled around, hanging effortlessly from the newly-opened hole in the wall. Staring down, he saw Serpemon and Sifamon tumbling together, the lemur spinning in a wheel of rags and shadows, and the snake managing not to break his fall in the slightest. He landed face-first, lying still for a second, before grinning up at Coremon with a double thumbs-up.

“Result!”

SHNK

“Eeeek!”

Serpemon let out a high-pitched shriek, scuttling back from the hunting knife that had only barely missed going through the back of his skull. Sifamon yanked it from the floor once again, whirling around as she scanned the area around her for any means of escape. It was an open silo, stacked on nearly every wall with rows and rows of cannons, railguns and ballistas. The vents were out of reach now, hidden behind layers of pipework and fortification

But for one such as her, there were still plenty of hiding places.

“Black Pirouette!”

Coremon saw the shadows gathering round her, and he leapt, trying to intercept the spear of shadows as it flew up at an angle. He missed by a hair’s breadth, and before he knew what was happening he was caught by blades of darkness, embedding themselves in his right arm.

He saved himself, swinging down and landing smoothly next to where Serpemon was still gathering his senses. “Nice plan. We’ve got her into a place where we can’t actually reach her now.”

“But we can see her,” murmured Serpemon, scanning the ceiling all around as he held the globe on his tail. Presently he pointed. “Up there. She’s following the tracks.”

Coremon followed his gaze, scanning the curved walls above and the etchings of ancient circuitry within. Sure enough, he could see the shimmering shape making its way across the wall, darting between crevasse and coving, never pulling away. The manticore curled his tail, biting his lip.

“We still can’t reach her.”

“We don’t need to.”

“Molten Mortar!”

There was a series of bombs, followed by three globules of napalm bursting out from another duct on the wall. They struck the wall, the lava melting into the metal and blocking off Sifamon’s movements with a wall of liquid flame.

Mollumon appeared from the shadows a few metres above, shuffling forwards on his tentacles as he held his barrel high like a turret. Coremon could see the octopus’s body inside, tilting the makeshift cannon around as there came the sounds and telltale glow of more projectiles incoming.

“You might be fast in the shadows, but you’re not invincible. We can trap you like we can any wild animal.”

The lemur hissed, changing direction as she shook out a flaming limb, but Mollumon was tracking her expertly and precisely, firing projectile after projectile. They arced in the air, heavy with lava, but each one was still targeted precisely and landed not a few feet away from the shifting shadow. She was corralled downwards, each new barrage forcing her in a curve or back on herself. And then she was trapped; encircled by a molten ring of slag, dropping down on her from above and preventing her movements. Mollumon took the opportunity, pulling the barrel down and twisting his body, the spots on his skin glowing red hot.

“Slide your way past that, why don’t you.”

Sifamon materialised, her head spinning in the direction of the octopus with a venom in her gaze. He backed off, pulling the cannon back again and firing three shots straight into the centre of the ring.

“Phobos Phantasm!”

Sifamon erupted from the wall before the blast could hit, leaping in a straight line through the air as her body expanded into darkness. But while her attention was focused on the octopus, she didn’t notice the small red blur in front of her, swinging upwards on the arm of a giant ballista as his eyes flashed.

“Corona Rings!”

He spun in the air, leaving trails of flame behind him from his arms and tail that shot out in spinning wheels. Several of them connected with the shadow, snapping around and constricting in a second, even around the ethereal matter. There was a screech, and Sifamon dropped to the ground once again, yanking at the white-hot bindings around her limbs. She descended to all fours, reaching inside her cloak as Coremon landed in front of her, a furious gaze in his eyes.

“You’re not getting away. Not after what you’ve done.”

“ Will you stop INTERFERING!”

Sifamon bellowed, and leapt forwards, swinging with the great hunting knife as shadows followed her movements. Coremon danced back, blocking and retaliating with sweeping flames of his own, but there was a difference in size and in level and he found himself being pressed back.

He held up both arms, the flares bursting out as the knife came down, and he hissed as he felt the metal break his skin. Sifamon ducked down, and a leg came out at his chin, sending him flying backwards. As he crumpled, he could see her eyes above him, his flames reflecting off the metal.

“The Fire Kingdom will lose more than a general today.”

“Tail Sweep!”

There was a flash of green, and Sifamon fell backwards, Serpemon’s tail wrapping around her legs like a bolus and sending her crashing down. Coremon was up in an instant, but before he could make a move his companion had grabbed him in a running embrace, skittering swiftly towards the nearest artillery

“Let me go! I have her!”

“Nice thought, Corey, but we’re in the way here right now.”

Coremon wanted to retort, but the glow in the corner of his eye gave him pause, and he instinctively coiled his body up small, ceasing any resistance. Sifamon noticed the glow as well, looking up into the upper gantry of the archives, and the great spread of cannons currently pointing in her direction.

Only from one source, as Bombardimon’s voice echoed throughout the dome.

“Meteor Reckoning!”

Every single one of his cannons ignited at once, sending a rain – nay, a hail of missiles directly into the base of the silo.

Sifamon tried to scramble for cover, like the Rookies had done. But with her confusion, and the cascade of light bearing down on her from above, it was like trying to outrun a pack of falcons. She made herself flat instead, spreading out every essence of her being as the missiles struck true.

It wasn’t enough.

The explosions reverberated around the chamber, rocking the archives and even pushing Mollumon, Serpemon and Coremon back into their own cover holes, shutting their eyes against the blistering heat.

Then, it was gone, the blasts dissipating as quickly as they’d begun. The Rookies uncoiled themselves, looking into the centre of the chamber. The damage wasn’t as bad as it seemed; the armaments and their holdings of course designed to take many a direct hit before failure. There were indeed scorch marks all over; dislodged panels, one or two broken cannons, but the area still largely in one piece.

And in the middle, bubbling and oozing in a mess of molecular shadow, Sifamon scraped against the scorched ground, her cloak now merely a mess of rags around her. She was nothing if not tenacious, holding out against the air strike from above and still able to drag herself forwards.

That is, until a cleaver came down and planted through her outstretched forearm, causing her to scream in pain. Fornaxmon crouched down in front of her, holding a hand on her scalp.

“You’re under arrest for an unprovoked attack on a senior of the Fire Kingdom. Don’t make this worse for yourself.”

Sifamon’s eyes were wide for a second, faced with the raging orange flames of the Commander.

Then they glazed over, and the lemur’s entire body went limp as she fell into unconsciousness.

The Rookies emerged from their hiding places, brushing off the soot and grazes on their bodies as Fornaxmon slung the comatose lemur over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He looked up, wiggling his cleaver at Bombardimon above.

“Slightly overdone it there, I think.”

The beetle’s indignant voice echoed back down at him, “I had to cover a wide area, sue me.”

“Honestly, no precision at all…”

Fornaxmon whistled, and looked down at the three battered Elites. “Good job. You all managed to come through there.”

Mollumon raised a withered-looking tentacle, knocking the side of his head. “We’re just doing our duty to the Fire Kingdom, sir.”

“Above and beyond, it seems.”

Fornaxmon rolled a shoulder, and tapped a little disc on his chest, revealing a ring of flames in front of him, between which a picture flickered into life.

“Santelmon, we’ve got the intruder. You can stand down anyone you have waiting.”

“ I can’t stand down anybody yet.”

Even distorted by the flames, Santelmon’s tone was different. Fraught. Almost panicked. Coremon shuffled forwards, desperate to hear more even as Fornaxmon pulled the disc closer.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“ You need to come right now. All of you.”

There was a blink of white, and a creaking sound, almost like the Commander’s voice cracking.

“It’s Muspelmon.”

They burst into the grand hall; Coremon scampering in the lead, Fornaxmon just behind, Mollumon and Serpemon making their way around his feet, and Bombardimon at the rear holding the now conscious body of Sifamon – her limbs bound and weapons removed, courtesy of some quick work by Serpemon.

The flame above was dim, casting the current occupants in a dull crimson light. Surtremon was crouched down to one side, and to the other, Hasdielmon with his wings folded behind him. The rest of the Sovereignty were there as well; Hamadryamon wrapped in her own leaves, Gryllimon with her forelegs folded in front of her, her head down, and Muscovymon stood stock still.

Coremon rushed ahead, his little feet patting against the stone, the sound echoing now it was unmuffled by the hordes of Fire Soldiers.

“We found her. We’ve got a hold of her; she won’t get away now-”

Surtremon’s great eye turned towards him briefly, but the General said nothing. Coremon stopped, his muscles freezing up as he saw the third Commander in the centre. Santelmon’s own flame was barely visible; a mere draping of white flame over his central torch.

“Coremon… ”

Santelmon turned to Surtremon, whose head descended further, nodding ever so slightly. The golem pulled back, revealing the prone, black-armoured figure laid down on the stone.

“ ...I’m sorry.”

Coremon stepped forwards, stopping mere inches away from his mentor. The armour and helm was almost pristine, save for the gouge through the helmet where Sifamon’s blade has struck. But there was no movement. No brightness or life through any of it. Coremon reached out with a shaking hand, pressing a palm against the elder general’s breastplate.

It was cold. There was nothing behind the armour at all, save for a few specks of data wriggling free from the joints.

Coremon flinched, drawing his paw back, but his eyes were focused intensely on the body of his mentor. Santelmon held his flames in front of him, his head lowered.

“He was already like this when I got to him. I tried to revive him. But he was just completely empty. I’m so, so sorry.”

The Commander’s own words were sullen, moreso than the three Rookies had ever heard them. With a clacking, Fornaxmon stepped forwards, placing a gauntlet around the rough stone.

“How...”

Coremon’s voice was quiet, but it echoed in the grand hall nonetheless. Mollumon held out a tentacle, but the manticore turned before he could do so, and his friend flinched at the raw anger over his face.

“ How did this happen? He was still alive!”

There was a shuffling in the corner of his eye, and he whipped round, his intense blue stare falling upon Sifamon, as she sat helpless in Bombardimon’s grasp. His legs sprang into action, and he powered his way past Mollumon and Serpemon with an animal growl. He reached Bombardimon, and grabbed the lemur out of the Commander’s grasp with a strength far escaping him, before slamming her against the stone by the scruff of the neck.

“ WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

Sifamon choked, her hands scratching at her chest as Coremon’s flames began to burn into her skin. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer; not with her throat in the Elite’s vice-like grip.

“ ...wasn’t...me...”

“Coremon, calm down! Let her go!”

The manticore whirled round, fully in the throes of his emotions as he bared his fangs. “She’s killed an elder of the Fire Kingdom! She has to face justice! She has to be executed! General!”

His eyes trailed up to Surtremon’s, but his face was as unreadable as ever beneath his mask, save for the shock clearly evident in his eyes. Serpemon and Mollumon slithered forwards, each grabbing onto Coremon’s shoulder, but he batted them away, returning his attention to Sifamon as his flames burned all the brighter.

“Whatever...whyever you’ve done this...I’m gonna make you pay-“

Click.

A shadow falling over him, and an unmistakeable heat suddenly close to his ear, and Coremon was suddenly frozen in place.

“Take your hands away, Fire soldier, or I’m going to have to end you along with her.”

Slowly, Coremon turned his head, and found himself looking up the barrel of a cannon. Muscovymon’s cannon, pointing at his head. The duck was staring at him with his one good eye, and his stare was firm and unyielding. Coremon clenched his fists.

There was the sound of metal unsheathing, and Muscovymon glanced sideways as Fornaxmon’s cleaver was held parallel to his neck.

“We don’t need any further death here, old friend. I’m sure you understand his anger.”

“Of course.” Muscovymon turned slightly, but didn’t lower his weapon just yet. “But we can’t let you kill her.”

Coremon took a gulp of air, looking around him, the room seeming to spin. “Wh...what’s going on here? What’s happening?”

“Calm yourself, young soldier. Fornaxmon’s trying to save your life.”

Mollumon took his chance, reaching forwards and pulling Coremon away from Sifamon. The lemur began to cough, but she didn’t move, as Muscovymon’s cannon shifted its focus onto her. With a shuffling motion, Hamadryamon stepped up beside him, and in a single movement she yanked at the cloak around the lemur’s shoulder, ripping it away and revealing a bare arm. There was a mark etched into the skin; a tattoo of four lines at varying angles.

“I thought as much,” said Hamadryamon, straightening up. “An anti-monarchist from the Spokes.”

Hasdielmon turned away, the pain clear in his eyes even as he didn’t say anything. Muscovymon crouched down. “How did she come here? Did she follow us?”

“She’s clearly adept at hiding. Or she was, at least.”

There was a shuffling sound as Coremon kicked at the ground, trying to break free from Mollumon’s hold, but the octopus held firm. Hamadryamon turned to him. “I’m sorry for the force, but Muscovymon’s right. This is a criminal from our jurisdiction. How she’s dealt with is our responsibility and ours alone.”

A great stamp echoed through the chamber, as Surtremon took a step forwards.

“That may have been the case, lady, but this conflict of yours has now entered my domain. An elder general is dead, likely by this assassin’s hand.”

“She is a citizen of the Spokes, whether she wills it or not,” replied Hasdielmon, his wings flickering. “We must be the ones with the final say here.”

Coremon ground his teeth, staring down at the floor. “This...this is insane...she’s right there...she killed him...it’s our right to have revenge...”

“The right of justice is a complicated one.”

The manticore looked up, seeing Gryllimon bent over Muspelmon as she clicked her forefingers. She turned, her voice quiet as ever.

“Whatever the outcome though, the right does not lie with the young ones. Can I request we discuss this alone?”

Coremon’s eyes widened, and he looked up at the towering figure of Surtremon, the knight’s gauntlet clenching.

“General, please...we have to-“

“Coremon, that’s enough.”

“But general-“

“I said that’s enough!”

His voice bellowed out, silencing everyone else in the room. The knight turned, and his eye travelled downwards, fixing Coremon with a hard stare.

“You’ve already gone above and beyond. All of you have. But this isn’t your responsibility anymore. Leave us.”

Coremon didn’t move. His mouth hung open and his paws pressed against the ground before him, feeling the cold stone more than ever. Even as Serpemon nudged him he didn’t move. Surtremon lowered his head.

“Fornaxmon? Please escort them out.”

“Sir.”

The mechanical commander moved, pressing behind Coremon until finally he was forced to walk away. The manticore stared ahead, stumbling his footsteps. Mollumon bent down, giving him a strong shoulder to brace against, while Serpemon trailed along behind, his arms held solemnly behind his back.

As they passed through the doorway, Coremon stole a glance back at the closing in gathering, and the dark shape that had been his mentor laid out in the centre. Muspelmon seemed so small from here.

He turned, and held out a palm, reaching out just once more, feeling for the great warmth and chuckle that the elder general had offered.

The door closed behind him, and his palm felt only bare metal. He leant his head forwards, crouched up against the barricade, as the others crowded around him.

Fornaxmon let out a mechanical sigh, crouching next to the young soldier.

“I don’t know what to say...”

He reached out a gauntlet for Coremon’s shoulder, but the Elite just thrust his arm back, before bringing it forwards and striking the metal with a muffled clang.

“How could they...”

Fornaxmon lowered his head. “General Surtremon will do everything he can-“

“How could he?!” The soldier whirled around, glaring up into the glowing visor of the Commander. “Muspelmon was his predecessor! He taught him everything! And he won’t...fight for his justice? His memory?”

Fornaxmon clenched his fist. “There’s nothing he can do right now. You know the alliance with the Spokes is tenuous right now. Any more rash actions on either side could spark a war. A war we all want to avoid.”

“But...but he...I...”

Serpemon shuffled forwards, holding his hands in front of him. “I know it feels wrong. Trust me, I do. But you do understand, Coremon...right?”

The smallest Rookie gritted his teeth, unable to look at anyone else as he gnashed out the words.

“Of course I do...I just...this...”

He sniffed, and finally he could feel the tears coming; tears suppressed in front of the General, the Sovereignty...the emotions all crashing into place at once.

“This day...wasn’t supposed to...be like this...”

Without warning, he ran; sprinting at top speed down the hallway. Fornaxmon reached out with his arm, but Serpemon shook his head.

“Leave him. I think he needs some time right now.” He looked away, his own eyelids heavy. “I...think we all do.”

The Commander’s arm fell downwards, swinging by his side. “Still, it’s my duty to look after you three now. I’ll just make sure he’s not alone.”

“Thanks, Commander.”

He began to walk forwards, before pausing just slightly, his head turning just enough for the two Rookies to see the glow from his internal flame.

“You all did exceptionally well today. You should be proud of yourselves. I’m just...so, so sorry...”

Neither Mollumon nor Serpemon had an answer. They just waited, leaning against one another as the Commander disappeared. Serpemon puffed out his cheeks, and nudged the octopus next to him.

“What do you think?”

“...I think I need to find a room and hit something repeatedly.”

“I feel you.” The snake glanced over his shoulder, giving a surreptitious nod backwards.

“And about her? Or the Sovereigns?”

“How should I know? It’s too early to say anything.”

Mollumon gave a gurgling sound, descending further into his barrel as he slumped.

“Honestly though? I feel like the gauntlet of war might already have been thrown.”

The two shared a glance – two youngsters, wise beyond their years and yet powerless beyond their accolades. But with no more knowledge to give, they too set off into the grim night, as the torchlights barely flickered above them.

Several days later

“Our lives are only borrowed. Forged as they are from the fabric of the digital world in which we live. Be we new or old, the smallest Rookie to the mightiest Mega, it is an inevitable truth that one day the dust which forms us shall return to that very world.”

“We as soldiers must fight, knowing this, accepting this. That is the path we take, and it is the noblest of us that strive for a world where so many others may live their lives to the fullest.”

The walls of the grand hall shifted, the same flames and torches from weeks earlier casting shadows against the stone and metal. Thousands of soldiers stood to attention, facing the front; a mere echo of the former celebration. Orange and white had given way to a deep crimson, with only a few spots illuminated. The podium was solemn; the Commanders, unit captains, and the Elites themselves all stood to attention, heads bowed towards the altar at the centre.

The general’s words were true as ever. Mighty the elder general’s body and strong his armour may have been, but he too was subject to the laws of the digital world. Within mere hours, there was no body to cremate, or to bury. Only a helm and a battleaxe; the last legacy of the latest ruler of the Fire Kingdom to fall.

Surtremon stood at his full height at the head, feeling the snaking flame in front of him, and the burning feeling blazing through his skull. But he continued, his hands clasped firmly on the handle of Logi.

“General Muspelmon embodied the spirit of the Fire Kingdom for centuries. He was a presence throughout the entirety of my own life, and I know through many of yours as well. Many a victory and many an end to war was brought by his hand, and it is with great sorrow we remember how suddenly he was taken from us. We can only work to bring his vision to pass, in order that he may receive the justice owed to him.”

Mollumon felt a twitch to the right of him, and glanced down momentarily at Coremon. But the little manticore didn’t say or do anything, save for clenching his shaking hand on the stone.

“These words though are not a plea for vengeance, nor can they be a call to war. The digital world will give, and will receive. It is with the blessing of the Fire Kingdom that we offer the memory of the late general as part of the legacy of this world.”

Surtremon spun his broadsword upwards, before reaching out, resting the flat tip against the edge of the altar before him. The flames curled out; not grand nor explosive, but more like a fine mist. And as they did so, the grand flame up above coiled downwards, the fortress offering a part of itself as well. A smaller, solemner moment than before, but no less mighty.

The flame split apart, leaving embers that caught in the breeze and fluttered this way and that.

They descended down to the ground. Surtremon returned his broadsword, and raised his hand in salute. The others beside him did the same, right down to the three Rookies at the far left. Coremon wanted to shut his eyes, to blank out the burning sight. But he remained steadfast, not even brushing away the tears already forming.

After a couple of minutes, Surtremon lowered his head. The embers fluttered to the ground, grey and white specks against the stone.

“Go in peace, General. May your legacy be safe in our hands.”

And it was over.

“Is it just me, or has the job difficulty gone up exponentially the past couple of weeks?”

Serpemon rolled his head back, waggling one frill until he heard the loud, bubbling sigh from Mollumon on the other side of the room. “You know, frankly I could do with a little extra training. Everyone’s just been so busy.”

Serpemon lent back against his bunk, holding his languid arms behind his head. His globe rolled back and forth at the foot end, casting little lights across the walls. It was a cosy room for the two bunkmates, not helped by the snake’s habit of picking up interesting objects, trinkets, bits of rock; an assortment of things currently splayed out in varying piles of disarray.

Mollumon’s half was no less crowded with things, but they were stacked neatly and ordered to a strict system. Gauges and dumbbells, parts of firearms, and many, many folders of inventories and blueprints; all a testament to the octopus’s tendency to bring all his work home with him. Serpemon was often tempted to go through them and muss all the order up, but he had been pre-warned and explicitly told that He Would Be Swung Repeatedly Against The Ceiling if he did. The snake had limited self-preservation, but it wasn’t non-existent.

Not that even Mollumon seemed to be entirely switched on at the minute. He sighed, letting the folder he was looking at droop forwards and sinking further into his barrel.

“Have you seen much of Coremon lately?”

Serpemon stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Glimpses, here and there. Not a lot outside of the funeral though.”

“I’m worried about him.” Mollumon plugged the folder back in its stack, and shuffled sideways, folding his front tentacles. “It’s a blow to us all. We always knew it was going to happen sometime, but this is just...rough.”

“A little bird tells me you’ve been up to the neck in it all as well.”

Mollumon smirked, his beak twisting on a tilt. “Nothing much. Just going through Muspelmon’s affairs. The ones that he didn’t bisect at the end of it, at least.”

He pressed in further, his sunken-in eyes scanning the rim of his own barrel. After a few moments, he looked up again, noticing Serpemon staring at him intently.

“What?”

“I know that look,” remarked the snake, and he rolled over onto his front, his frill fluttering. “That’s the ‘I’m trying to solve a 3D brainteaser puzzle but I don’t want to share any of it but it’s an interesting one’ look.”

“You seem familiar with it.”

“I’ve perfected that look myself. I pride myself on being a smartass; you know that.” Serpemon fluttered his eyelids. “Go on then; spill the deets. Did you find anything?”

Mollumon hesitated for a moment, clearly conflicted. Then he shuffled forwards. “There was barely anything missing, save for one journal. There was an obvious slot where it should have been.”

“Any idea what was in it?”

“It’s Muspelmon’s private collection. Could have been anything. But they didn’t find anything of the sort on Sifamon.”

“She is a good hider-of-things, from what I can gather. Though I’ll admit, if she really just wanted a book then she probably wouldn’t want to start a fight with Muspelmon to get it.”

“Well...that’s the other thing I don’t get.”

Serpemon sat up, clutching the edge of his bunk as Mollumon shuffled closer, his voice lowering.

“I didn’t get a chance to see her; the Spokes Sovereignty took her into custody when they left. But I did a little bit of digging through the Digimon historical during my spare time. We’ve got a little bit on Sifamon; Virus attribute, Nature Spirit, all what you’d expect. But she’s a Champion level.”

“I did wonder...”

Serpemon placed his forefingers on his lips, swaying from side to side. “A master of shadows...a natural assassin, sure...but that’s quite somehuevos for a Champion level to try and take on the Mega level ex-General of the Fire Kingdom. Even if he was getting on in years, no disrespect to him, rest his soul.”

Mollumon huffed, his ear flaps curling over. “Could she really kill him? Could she get lucky enough to take him out in one blow like that.”

“And if she couldn’t...then who was it really?”

Serpemon bit the end of his thumb, his eyes narrowing. “Assassins have clients. And clients will use the assassins close to them.”

Knock knock

The sudden rapping startled the pair, and they split apart, trying to look nonchalant. Serpemon hissed into the air. “Come in?”

The door opened, the aperture taken up completely with Bombardimon’s wide form. He descended, the insectoid head held at an angle.

“There’s a whole lotta whispering coming from in here.”

Serpemon grinned. “Mollumon just needs a bit of tender loving care now and again. He asked me to be gentle with him. Keep the tootsicle massages a little softer.”

The snake stuck his tongue out, followed by swiftly ducking as a dumbbell was hefted directly at his head by his bunkmate. Mollumon huffed, blowing bubbles, before looking up at the Commander. “Do you need us for anything?”

“I need you both to come with me.” Bombardimon twisted around, his eyes wide and discerning.

“You’ve been personally summoned by General Surtremon.”

Coremon sat alone, staring ahead at the blank altar. He didn’t feel entirely present, much like he hadn’t for the past couple of weeks. Little by little the soldiers had filed away from the grand hall, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go. Mollumon and Serpemon had left early, busy with their own tasks. A few others had stayed later; coming up to try and comfort him. They too had left now.

For such a massive building, the place felt hollow, and empty now, and yet oppressive in its girth. He just sat, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of himself.

And then, there was a presence. Another lone one beside him. Little company, despite the huge difference in size between them. He could feel the shadow being cast over him as Surtremon crouched down.

“I wondered if you were still here.”

Coremon wanted to respond, but words were failing him. He turned, and began to raise his hand in salute, but the general reached out, holding his movement at bay.

“Easy. It’s just me now.”

The knight’s voice was soft, and almost delicate sounding, like it might crack at any moment. Coremon looked up, his tail coiled tightly. The general’s eyes were looking down, not meeting his own. And for a moment the grand hall seemed even larger, swallowing the both of them up. Making them both as powerless as one another.

Surtremon reached into a chink in his chest armour, and pulled out a tiny folded parcel, reaching out towards the young Elite.

“I meant to get this to you before now, but I couldn’t find a chance.” Surtremon carefully dropped it at Coremon’s feet, who reached out, clasping it in both hands.

Coremon flinched, for a moment not wanting to touch the little package. But he opened it up, gently sliding his mentor’s brooch out into his palm. The letter unfolded with it, his mentor’s handwriting clear and scratchy as ever.

“It was on Muspelmon’s body when he passed away. He wanted to pass it to you, it seems.”

“Thank you sir.”

“I’ve done nothing to be thankful for.”

Surtremon sat up, his hands held on his thighs. Coremon looked up into those same eyes; bright and vulnerable behind the impenetrable mask.

“You must hate me. I was entrusted to lead this nation, and I failed all of you. You three in particular.”

Coremon gritted his teeth, wanting to shout out suddenly. But he swallowed, holding the brooch against his chest.

“I’ve been...thinking a lot about what happened. There was nothing you could do. Not in front of them. It was the wrong time.” The little manticore looked aside. “If I hate you...it’s because of what you had to do. Not what you wanted. I know that really.”

Surtremon sighed, the great shoulders descending. “To lead is to bear the sins committed in your presence, whether you have control over them or not. It’s a lesson you’ll find out yourself one day.”

“But I did have control over it.” Coremon clenched his front paws, his arms flaring up with repressed anger and grief. “I keep telling myself, if I’d been faster, or if I’d stayed with him...something else would have happened. I can’t shake that, sir. I can’t get rid of the feeling that I...I failed to save him.”

Surtremon reached out, gently running one finger down the young Elite’s side.

“All your blame lies with me. I know more than you know how you feel, but you must hold firm against your doubts. Find the truth.”

He leant back, and straightened up, the living flame above glinting off his mask.

“And even if you couldn’t save him, you still have a chance to find justice for him.”

Coremon started, holding the brooch tightly as he watched Surtremon stand up before him, a towering presence in the hall once again.

“General?”

“If I may, I’ll ask you to follow me to my office.” The knight turned, his broadsword glowing over his back, and his voice now echoing once again. “I have a mission for you.”

He began to walk away, his footsteps quiet and methodical against the stone. Coremon looked back at the altar for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of the flame above him, and close to his heart. He tucked the brooch away, and hurriedly followed after the general.

The three Rookies sat in a line, arms crossed in front of them as they held their shoulders in. Surtremon’s office was nothing compared to the grand hall, but it was still vast and overbearing, by necessity in order to hold him. There weren’t the stacks of knowledge and legacies that Muspelmon’s had held; Surtremon’s was completely functional, and mostly bare. There was a large map across one wall, a set of hooks along another, supporting Logi as it pulsed idly. And in the corner, there stood a relatively small mariner’s chest, just sized enough for the general to open with one hand.

Surtremon turned round, and got to his knees, flipping the top of the chest open as he did so.

“I’m sorry it’s taken until now to get you all here. The negotiations have been long.”

He reached inside, and passed a thin slab of steel down to Mollumon. The octopus opened it, with the other Rookies crowding round behind him.

“From the...Spokes Sovereignty?” Mollumon started, and looked up. “Have they contacted you?”

Surtremon rubbed beneath the chin of his mask. “It’s been non-stop. A high-ranking political figure murdered by an insurgent from a tensely-allied nation? There’s a lot of serious conversations to be had there.”

Coremon pressed the heel of his palm against the stone, looking away. “Did you ever find out what happened to Sifamon?”

“The report is she was executed a few days after arriving back. Tried and found guilty of murder and anarchism.” Surtremon raised a palm. “I can’t say any more than that because I don’t know myself.”

Coremon pressed his teeth together. Even though his heart had been yearning for her blood, it wasn’t a satisfying answer, and he knew even deeper down that it wouldn’t have been. He looked back, following his colleague as Mollumon traced down the metallic message.

“’There is much regret for the actions and losses incurred due to the intentions of a rogue citizen, and the Fire Kingdom may utilise its right to reparative action in order to maintain the alliance between nations. As per the terms of the negotiated agreement between the Fire Kingdom and the Spokes Sovereignty, the below persons may be granted access to the Spokes districts in a diplomatic capacity for the limited period specified below.’”

Serpemon blinked, and peered up at the general. “We’re...us three are...invited to go to the Spokes?”

Surtremon nodded. Coremon scowled.

“So they can apologise to us personally? Sir, I...I don’t see the reason for this.”

“Don’t you?”

Coremon turned to Mollumon, who leant the plaque on the floor, his ear-flaps twitching. “An incident occurs, and reparations are requested. But we’re looking for a little more than reparations, aren’t we General?”

“I’m sure you’ve all had your own discussions and thoughts.” Surtremon leant forwards, resting his palms on his knees. “I have to be careful with the words I use, even in the sanctuary of the Fire Kingdom. I cannot be seen to accuse or incite conflict where there is no way I can prove its necessity, and the Spokes are as insular as they are tense towards us.”

Mollumon curled the end of a tentacle around his chin. “There’s a history of war between the two nations, isn’t there...”

Coremon blinked. “So someone did plan an assassination then?”

“Muspelmon’s death is only a result. It could be a call to war, or revenge, or an accident or even Sifamon working of her own accord. None of us know anything, and we can’t know anything without investigation.” Surtremon looked up at his broadsword. “But I can’t send soldiers in to investigate, or the Sovereignty then have a case to call for provocation. In the best case it would be lockdown for any of our nation to gain access or trade for a long time. In the worst case, that would be war between us.”

Serpemon picked at his bottom lip. “So...as a compromise...you’d like to send us?”

“You’re new Elites. It’s an ambassadorial mission, and as ones directly affected by the incident, it would be an act of wilful defiance on their part to refuse you.”

Serpemon waggled a finger. “Plus we’re Rookies. We’re not a threat.”

Coremon pouted at him, at which the snake waved with a snigger. “I know, I know, we’re damned good at what we do, but let’s be honest; nobody’s going to see us three and claim we’re an invading army.”

“That’s true. Unfortunately the terms do stipulate it has to be you three alone. Nobody to accompany you.”

Coremon shuffled forwards, looking at the intricately scrawled digicode on the tablet. “You’ve made all of this happen so we can get justice for Muspelmon?”

“Justice? Maybe. Believe me when I say, Coremon, I want to do right by my mentor as much as you do.”

The general knelt forwards, his eyes scanning the three soldiers before him.

“But really, I want a return to peace. And I want the truth. With that, I can ensure that nothing like this ever happens again, here or anywhere else. That would do more right by him than any revenge.”

He straightened up. “It’s a mission, but it’s a personal one. I won’t force any of you to go; there will be other ways and opportunities that arise. But this is your chance to find out for yourselves what is happening in the Spokes, and how we can bring this whole situation to rights for us all. Would you accept?”

Mollumon wrapped a tentacle around another, tilting his head. Serpemon clasped his hands thoughtfully.

“Yes sir. I’ll go.”

Coremon answered nearly instantly, stepping forwards and placing a hand on his chest. He pulled it back, looking at the brooch still held in his palm, and the bright flames etched across it.

With a shuffling, he heard the others join him by his side, with Serpemon’s lanky arm traipsing across his shoulders.

“Our first proper mission, eh? A bit of a doozy, but all going to a good cause.”

Mollumon snorted, rolling his eyes at the snake’s lack of decorum. But he raised a tentacle in salute. “Make that three of us. We accept.”

Surtremon nodded, ever so slightly.

“I had faith that you would.”

Snow blasted against Sifamon’s exposed face, forming clumps of frost in her fur and making any vision impossible. But she ran as fast as she could, crawling and clambering over splintered debris and skeletons, even as her leg was increasingly refusing to work, the holes within it expanding and shedding grey data. It burned; a pain more intense than the cold that she was being bombarded with.

“HAHA HAahaHA aHAHAAHAHA HAHAHAHA!”

She risked a glance back, immediately regretting it as she saw the hulking behemoth in the blizzard behind her. There was a blast of heat amidst the cold, and she felt herself peppered with ash and snow. She screamed, falling onto her back as she pulled at the remaining rags around her, the embers already burning into her with that same horrific pain. She reached for the shadows, but there were none, and even if there had been there was no way she could focus enough right now to escape.

“Please...no...whatever it is...call him off...”

The shadow swayed, edging forwards, and she could make out the bright, mad eyes and the glowing maw, dripping white fire onto the snow below.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out as you wanted...I really tried...please, no...NO, H-HELP ME!”

She screamed into the storm as the shape fell upon her, and her body was overcome with pain. Swiping claws, gnashing teeth, a torrent of the same ash that rent deep into her body and pulled her very data to ribbons, deleted so instantly that it didn’t even fade to the air.

The behemoth stopped, and shook his shoulders, his breath forming white clouds before him. He clenched a paw. Took a step. Took another one back as a growl rose in his throat.

“...hehe...hahahaha-“

“That’s enough.”

The laughter caught in the beast’s throat, and he whirled around, splaying his legs and snarling at the figure in the fog. Something wrapped around his mind, and he whimpered gently.

“ Return to me now. It’s done.”

The beast took two steps. Then stopped. He shook his head wildly, the glow returning to his eyes once again. The other figure held their hand out further.

“I told you to OBEY! ”

The beast howled. Chattered maniacally. And with claws unsheathed, he pounced.