Mollumon read slowly, and clearly, his diction worthy of one praised by the strategic division. There was silence throughout the rest of the courthouse, as they just listened to the journal. Entry after entry, experiment after event after war crime; a complete and unabridged picture of the elder Fire General, bared for all to see.

Coremon kept his head down throughout the entire ordeal, staying close to Crocottamon. When his name was mentioned, he looked up, and noticed the great beast’s head tilted slightly. Recognition, or perhaps awaiting a command. The hyena didn’t move from his spot though, remaining entirely transfixed by Coremon.

He could feel the weight of a thousand stares upon him, suspended as he was in the centre of the courthouse, over the chasm from which the beast had been pulled. His mind was screaming at him to just jump. To disappear into the blackness along with everything that he’d learned. But something kept him where he was.

Behind him, Serpemon’s head was lowered, and his arms were folded, his ear flaps twitching only a little as the dictation continued. Once in a while he opened his eyes, looking up at each of the podiums in turn. But he said nothing.

And Mollumon just kept reading, only the slightest waver in his voice.

“This world needs a saving grace. I’ve done my part to provide one, and I only pray that the true age of the Digital World shall still come to pass.”

He turned the page, then back again, before holding the book flat on the lectern in front of him. He raised his head, his face taut.

“That’s the last one.”

His words were short, and final, the echo dissipating around the courthouse, to be replaced with only the haunted murmurs and mutterings from the people around. Hamadryamon looked smaller than ever on her podium, her arms coiled around her and covering her face, as she murmured “oh my god...oh my god…” over and over again.

CRACK

The noise caught everyone off guard, as Muscovymon’s hand slammed down against his lectern, leaving an imprint. He remained in that position, visibly shaking, before bringing the hand to his beak.

“I...I fought for him...I fought his wars...I did his bidding...so long I served him…”

He buckled forwards, his elbow pressing into the podium.

“Why didn’t I FUCKING SEE IT?”

His voice barrelled around the room, as Coremon turned around on his platform.

“He hid it from all of us. The projects. The cleansing. I don’t know how much else is within his journals back within the Fire Kingdom, but there’s enough here at least to point to him in this case.”

The manticore looked up, a strange, flat expression on his face as he looked over the Sovereignty. “My mentor, the late Fire General Muspelmon, is the one who created your beast through dark science and cruel morals. He’s admitted that through his own words.”

Mollumon tensed behind him, gingerly reaching out with a coiling tentacle.

“Coremon...no…”

“That’s enough.”

Hasdielmon placed his hand against the side of the podium, and all of a sudden Coremon jerked upwards, carried by the suspended metal. It coiled around him before he could react, until he too was suspended in a cage, smaller than Crocottamon’s but no less complete. The two were brought up, until they sat at Hasdielmon’s eye level, able to see the boiling rage behind the gems that classed as his eyes.

“Your people...your kingdom…you make a mockery of my kindness and my support and you bring your crimes to my doorstep.”

The cages clanged against one another, causing Crocottamon to hiss and embers to drop down from his skin, as Coremon reached out and wrenched at the bars.

“Hasdielmon, please list-”

“You have no further right to speak.”

The angel swung his arm wide, gesturing to the guards at the door. “Secure the other two, and that infernal journal. Surtremon will answer for this.”

Hamadryamon shook her head, stammering her words. “But...the trial-”

“This trial is over. We have our culprits.”

Coremon turned around, grabbing at the bars of the metamorphic cage as he struggled to see the other two Elites. “We had no idea! We’ve only just found this out as well!”

“Enough.”

“Mollumon! Serpemon!”

The other two remained at the podium; Mollumon still holding the journal in front of him with a hollow look in his eyes, and Serpemon holding his head down, his hands by his sides. The Sagittarimon guards were moving towards them, a hesitance in their steps. Hasdielmon turned towards them, his eyes blazing as the two cages swung in his step.

“Now! I gave you an order!”

His voice boomed around the courthouse, more furious than the guards – or anybody present – had ever heard him before. They obliged, reaching the podium and clamping the two Elites in place. The journal hung loosely in Mollumon’s grasp, the tentacles gently brushing the edges.

Hasdielmon straightened up, his eyes scanning the room. “You three are to be held in my custody. Await your fates. And I’m going to make damned sure Surtremon and the rest of the Fire Kingdom come down with you. Bring them.”

The Sagittarimon holding Serpemon took a step, when the snake finally raised his head, facing the angel with a discerning eye.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to take us in?”

“You’re too dangerous to be allowed to roam free any further. The creature in there is proof of that.”

“So you’re going to take control of the creature, along with the information and means of controlling it?” Serpemon gave a wry smile, and raised his voice a little further. “Seems like that’s all very convenient for you, Hasdielmon.”

The angel stopped, his body frozen for a moment. He turned back, fixing a blazing eye on the serpent.

“What did you just say?”

Serpemon grinned icily. “There’s some important questions we haven’t answered. And if you’re aiming to end the trial this quickly, it suggests that maybe you’d like to ignore them. I wonder why.”

“How DARE you!”

Hasdielmon turned back, pointing a bandaged finger at the journal in Mollumon’s grasp. “The truth is out now. Spilled from Muspelmon’s own words. This beast here is your crime, and you are the ones accountable for it! There are no more questions that need to be asked.”

“No...wait…”

Mollumon shook himself out of his stupor, and pulled the journal closer. “That’s what you just said; it’s Muspelmon’s own words. Don’t you see; there’s someone else involved here-”

“How can I trust any of your words anymore? You were led by Muspelmon. Guided by him. Nothing you say holds any weight now; it’s only to serve his will!”

Serpemon hissed, dark anger flashing over his face, and he slammed his fist down on the podium. “Sure, I respected him. But I will NOT hang for that bastard.”

“Then curse your fates in his name,” commanded Hasdielmon, pulling the cages closer towards him. “I’ve given my decree that this trial is OV-”

Clang.

The cages jerked before Hasdielmon, causing Coremon to stare around, his eyes wide. The angel pulled, but there was no movement. He turned to his left.

“Gryllimon, what are you doing?”

The cricket had her arms on her own podium, commanding the walls of the courthouse for our own. She looked up, her antennae swinging before her.

“The trial isn’t over until the Sovereignty agrees it, Hasdielmon. That is our way.”

“We can’t let these-”

“You have no right to say what we can or can’t do. Not alone, at least.”

The cricket looked amongst the other two Sovereigns, but they remained still. Neither supporting her, yet not turning on her either. It was a stalemate. Her hands against his.

She turned back forwards, her attention turning to the defense podium. “ Mollumon, you had something to say?”

“Thank you, your highness.”

The octopus pulled himself forwards, opening the journal once again. “Gryllimon, please can you bring up again the numbers and times of the attacks that have taken place?”

The cricket stepped back, manipulating the map in front of her once again. “ Over fifteen in the last three months.”

“After Muspelmon had already released him. And some of them after he’d been killed.”

Mollumon turned the page around. “He says it in his own words, Hasdielmon. There were attacks from Crocottamon going on without his knowledge. There’s no denying his crimes in creating and using him, but someone else clearly had the same idea.”

Muscovymon leant forwards, grinding his beak. “How can we trust any words from that tyrant?”

Mollumon turned the cover round. “It’s a private journal. Only openable by his own personal brooch. Why would he have any need to lie in it?”

“So somebody had a need for Crocottamon,” said Serpemon flatly, gesturing towards Gryllimon’s map. “And judging by the times and places of the attacks, and the knowledge that he was kept within the rail terminal, likelihood dictates that the Digimon responsible came from within the Spokes.”

Mollumon straightened up. “Somebody with a knowledge and mastery over the Spokes’ power even. One of the shuttle drivers, maybe. But they’re not the only ones, as you well know.”

Hasdielmon’s head clicked, seething behind his mask. Gryllimon leant forwards.

“Being able to find the creature is one thing, but I believe it also mentioned in that journal the difficulty in controlling it.” She gestured to the map. “These attacks don’t follow a pattern, but they are controlled. Small, out of the way isolated events. Surely that could only be if the beast was fully obedient.”

Serpemon raised a claw to his chin. “Limited control is still control. The more powerful a Digimon is the more sway they could have over it.” He looked up at Hamadryamon. “A Champion level might not stand a chance, but we’ve seen that stronger Digimon can withstand its attacks. Possibly somebody even stronger may be able to establish dominance.”

He folded his arms, running his tongue over his lower jaw. “Though I can’t imagine they’d get out of it completely unscathed. And in that case...the real truth of how to control him would be quite desirable for them to know.”

Hasdielmon leant forwards. “What reason would any of us have to want to control Crocottamon to that extent?”

“What other reason would there be?”

The angel peered aside at Coremon, who stared out at him from his place in the bars. “You heard the journal. The admissions. The crimes. Any feelings of revenge or retribution would be completely understandable.”

Mollumon bowed his head. “If anybody knew even a fraction of what he’d committed, then to want his death would be perfectly understandable.”

“So they sent an assassin?”

Serpemon looked up at Muscovymon, and held his arm out. “They definitely sent Sifamon. But she was never going to be an assassin.”

“What?”

The snake held a hand to his chin. “It’s funny. Even if Muspelmon was getting on in years, he was hardly a pushover. Sifamon may have been skilled at subterfuge and quick, brutal blows, but she was still a Champion level up against a Mega. There shouldn’t have been any contest.”

Mollumon gasped, his head lowering. “Then...she was there to misdirect us. Strike, make a run for it, and lead us away.”

“And that’s when Muspelmon died. When none of us were present.”

Hasdielmon placed his palm on the podium. “You have absolutely no proof.”

“Course not. I wasn’t there.” Serpemon raised a finger. “But I do know that journal there disappeared at the same time. And then miraculously we find it again after being invited here. Somebody was there, and somebody took it.”

He held his arms wide, even the guards around him backing away now. “Why? Who can say why? It only contains the knowledge on Crocottamon and his construction and prowess. Oh but wait, there’s no way inside. Those secrets locked away by Muspelmon’s hand. So what’s one to do? Is the knowledge gone forever? No...no, for Muspelmon had an apprentice. One he’d gone to great lengths to laud and honour during that graduation ceremony.”

“Stop it…”

“So you hatch a plan. You offer an invitation; a false peace treaty, with an aim to get your enemy close. To find the secret he’s holding, and unlock the knowledge you need to control Crocottamon properly. For revenge, or conquest, or whatever the reasoning...but you need that power. And you twist everything and everyone in the Spokes until it finally comes to the surface-”

“I SAID ENOUGH!”

Hasdielmon’s wings arched as he slammed his hand down, the fury ringing out dissonantly from beneath his featureless mask.

“This TRIAL is OVER. This is nothing but BASELESS SPECULATION!”

“You think I don’t KNOW THAT?”

Serpemon hissed right back, his own voice startling Mollumon as he pointed an accusatory finger at all the Sovereignty.

“Trial? This was never a trial! There’s no win condition for any of us three; we knew that going in. The only reason we’re here is because somebody wanted – needed – us to be here. So we could be found guilty, and so anything we had – materials, knowledge or the single key to your revenge – could be taken away. That is your right as kings; to take without reason, and not even need to justify it!”

He took a breath, holding his hands up to his mouth. The Sovereignty stared down at him, silent to the last. Eventually the snake raised his head again, and his face was grave.

“I took a risk. It was the only way we could find the truth, and that was if only one of you was guilty. That’s the way of the Sovereignty, right? Four of you, with your own priorities but equal footing, so no one person has complete power. The Spokes gave us a way out by its own system.”

Muscovymon was no longer looking down at Serpemon. He held his cannon arm, the brim of his hat down. Gryllimon held her hands together, the fingers tapping together.

Hamadryamon leant forwards. “You...you still have nothing. No proof, no witnesses, nothing but your own words.”

“Proof and witnesses would be pointless. This is a trial concocted by the guilty. Nothing I say means anything. Because as witnesses – and as suspects – there’s only two pieces of information that any single one of you knows for sure.”

He slipped forwards, eyeing every one of them in turn.

“You alone know if you’re innocent…”

Hamadryamon straightened up, turning her head from side to side. Serpemon knew her eyes were moving beneath her mask. He carried on.

“...and you alone know if you’re not.”

Mollumon followed the snake’s gaze, not daring to say a word. He could feel the presence of the guards behind them both, ready to take them as commanded. But they were unsure as well, waiting for confirmation.

And in his cage above, Coremon held tightly onto the opening, trying to see out amongst the podiums.

For the attention of the Sovereignty was no longer on any of them. They were all now looking at one another. Silent stares. And yet noise and fury in that silence, as they looked for a sign.

A sign that Serpemon had noticed a long time ago, as he turned his attention towards just one of them, an innocence and earnestness to his voice as he asked one single question.

“Hasdielmon...please could you uncover your hands?”

“……...excuse me….?”

The angel shook his head, placing a bandaged palm on the podium. “This has gone on long enough. You’ve admitted you’ve got nothing. End this.”

He pulled at the metal, dragging Coremon and Crocottamon’s cages towards him.

But they didn’t come.

He looked aside him at Gryllimon, who was still holding one hand against the podium, her other hand gently ticking against her knuckle.

The angel turned back, and pulled again, but the hold was stronger now. To his left he saw Muscovymon also keeping the cage in place, his webbed hand splayed against the podium. The duck’s mechanical eye was fixated upon him, nothing but blackness behind the stare.

“What are you...what do you think you’re-”

The angel’s confusion gave way, and he turned back, looking at the serpent before him. So small, and so powerless. Nothing but his words and his wits, and the information he’d just been given.

He had nothing. The angel knew that very well. No possible way to turn this around. No evidence or witnesses worth anything.

But as he stared into the snake’s blank face, and the earnest eyes staring up at him, Hasdielmon knew very well the weapon he’d chosen. Complete trust between the Elites, sowing distrust between the Sovereignty. And he had no power alone. His own laws ensured it.

Looking closely, he was almost certain he could see a flicker of a smile on the side of Serpemon’s mouth, as he asked the question once more.

“Hasdielmon, please can you remove your bandages and show the courthouse your hands.”

Hasdielmon’s wings were still behind him. He no longer held the podium, his hands instead curled around the dagger suspended at his neck.

“Is there a reason you won’t?”

A different voice, this time Doedimon from the rear of the room. Baboongamon doubled down on it, as did Tobiumon, until all the rebels were yelling their input into the courthouse, the guards doing the bare minimum to hold them back.

“Show us! Show all of us!”

“Was it you who attacked us?”

“Have you been controlling this thing?”

Hasdielmon looked down at his hands, which were bunched into fists, black spots appearing at the edges of the bandages.

“Hasdielmon...darling...it’s okay…”

Hamadryamon leant inwards, grinding her teeth as her hands shook. “It’s okay, isn’t it? You can show us...there’s nothing wrong with them...right?”

The angel’s shoulders fell. He stared ahead, and the hollering died down as he slowly peeled the end of one bandage from his wrist, unwinding it methodically. Hamadryamon didn’t look at first, clasping her own podium. But eventually even she turned, watching as the fabric fell down, and grey ash fell down with it.

Hasdielmon moved to the other hand, moving faster now, until the ragged cloth fell away, draping over the podium. It was clear to all of them to see now; Hamadryamon more than anything, for she bore the same wounds across her own body. Pale, scaled skin and jewelled nails, marred by dead flesh, and white ash, flaking away and leaving pockmarks in the pristine metal.

Coremon held his breath, his hand instinctively going to his chest, as he watched the angel raise his hands without word nor complaint, showing the front and the back of his palms, and the true extent of his wounds.

Muscovymon stood up straight, venom in his voice.

“What’s your explanation for this, Hasdielmon?”

The angel didn’t say a word, simply holding his bare arms out for all to see. Coremon bit his lip, and looked aside from Hasdielmon towards the other cage, and at Crocottamon within. The aperture was open enough for him to see the beast’s eyes, focused as they were on Hasdielmon’s exposed palms.

“He seems to recognise you, your highness.”

“Guilt Construct.”

Mollumon shuffled forwards, holding tightly onto the manuscript before him. “I saw it when you first brought us through here. You have the ability to manipulate the will of others, am I right?”

Hasdielmon still didn’t answer, slowly flexing his fingers as they shook slightly. Gryllimon shuffled forwards, tapping her fingers together rhythmically as she spoke.

“Under certain constraints. He needs knowledge of his target. Their own hopes, desires and fears, and the more he can tap into their base instincts the greater control he can exert.”

“So then it’s not out of the realm of possibility for him to influence Crocottamon. Even if it’s not perfect.”

Gryllimon lowered her head. “With the strongest will, he could even stop hearts if he wished.”

“This...this has to be a mistake…”

Hamadryamon’s voice was small, rasping slightly from the wound on her cheek. “You...you’re the best of us...you always have been.”

Hasdielmon remained silent, staring into the very centre of the chamber as the lights of his eyes shone into the abyss. Hamadryamon gritted her teeth, and pushed her own podium, edging ever closer to Hasdielmon as she reached out towards him.

“It’s not true...darling, whatever it is then you-”

“ DON’T touch me.”

A flurry of wings and a sweep of his mighty arm, and Hamadryamon cried out, stumbling backwards on her own podium. She stood, her arms shaking as she held herself upright, staring at the angel’s outstretched arm.

Slowly, he closed his hand into a fist, shaking and dropping ash as it did so. He brought it back, slamming it down on the podium before him, as he kept his single, blank stare.

“Strong will, is that right? You have no idea…”

He looked up, his eyes meeting those of Muscovymon, and of the rebels on the other side.

“The will required to stop you all from tearing each other to pieces. To keep these decaying towers standing.” He turned his head, ever so slightly. “To live with your...pathetic...fawning...as you stepped on everyone who crossed your path.”

Hamadryamon’s words caught in her throat, as she descended slightly. Hasdielmon’s actions mirrored hers, as he straightened up, facing Crocottamon’s cage next to him.

“And still that will wasn’t enough. The best I could ever do was to aim him, and once the deed was done, all but crush him back into the tunnels, and hope I could find him again.”

There came a scraping sound as Muscovymon’s hand scrawled over his own podium.

“Is that...an admission, then?”

“Gryllimon.”

Hasdielmon’s low voice cut through the watching crowd, all fury and indignation gone and replaced with cold, hard truth.

“Gryllimon, you know everything about me, don’t you.”

Tap.

Tap.

The cricket nodded. “I’m only a collector of information. You know that very well.”

“Please would you extend the map. There’s something I need to show everybody here.”

The cricket obliged, the map extending outwards, showing the breadth of the ocean, and the other continents far away. And then it turned, zooming in on the grand structures at the far side across the sea. The concentric circles of the Elysian Courts and the Tartarean Labyrinth; intertwined by their very creation. And surrounding them, the pockets of ancient strongholds of the Virus Busters and the Nightmare Soldiers; remnants of an archaic stalemate leading to current, tentative peace.

And further still, resting on a single island, dull grey against the ocean.

“I had a home here. Across the sea, within one of these ancient palaces. I was an archivist myself, one amongst generations of seraph. Looking after the dominions of our world.”

He straightened up, holding his bare palm against his podium, as the island on the map began to shake.

“That history was lost in a single assault. Collateral, caught in an offensive from the Fire Kingdom. I found out later that we weren’t even a target; that the war was with a subterranean complex in the north. But the leaders of our home wouldn’t allow passage nor sanctuary for soldiers. And so we were destroyed. For convenience.”

He looked over at Coremon, who was staring at him with wide, blue eyes.

“General Muspelmon – your mentor – he led that assault. I survived, along with a pittance of others. Migrated to this continent and started my new life within the Spokes. But all the while, the Fire Kingdom thrived under Muspelmon’s hand. I could see his tactics, his campaigns, and the things he kept hidden. And I couldn’t do anything. Nobody could. The Fire Kingdom was an absolute.”

He reached out, his hand holding the cage before him, turning the aperture to show the crouched Crocottamon within.

“Here’s another victim right here. I didn’t know the full extent when I found him, but there was no doubt in my mind it was Muspelmon’s work. And somehow, even just the smallest amount, he listened to me. He responded to me. I wonder if he may have been there, a long time ago when the divine libraries turned to ash.”

His eyes turned downwards, facing Serpemon’s gaze upon the defense’s stand.

“I feel for you. You have grown to see your kingdom as a beacon of stability, and righteous power. But it’s a power grown from the blood of countless lives throughout this world. Be it on the will of a single ruler or the trajectory from a hundred rulers prior. And you’re here now, the new generation, carrying out its bloodstained will with innocence in your eyes.”

Serpemon and Mollumon both stared, their eyes lost in the angel’s bejewelled ones. His voice was low, like so many bells tolling within the great armoured form.

“Do you feel it? The weight of the sins that brought you here? Do you feel them crawling through your body?”

Mollumon held his body yet tighter, the journal hanging out of his grip. Even Serpemon was sombre, a single hand coming up to his chest.

“Hasdielmon...I’m sorry…”

“Too late.”

The angel held out his scarred palm, ash falling down from it.

“Guilt Construct!”

The wave of energy was invisible, but immense and palpable nonetheless, and the two Elites collapsed in unison, the invisible grip taking their breath and contorting their bodies. They gasped, feeling the entirety of their selves under the angel’s hand as he threatened to rip them apart.

“NO!”, screamed Coremon, and he flung himself at the walls of his cage, but it remained unbroken as he stared helplessly down at the two soldiers in the angel’s grasp.

“STOP HIM!”

A clicking sound caught Hasdielmon’s attention, and he turned to see Muscovymon standing atop his own podium, his cannon arm raised before him.

“That’s enough, you murderer!”

“You have no say. You’re one of them as WELL!”

Hasdielmon tilted his hand, and the duck faltered, his own body stiffening as his own conscience was brought to the surface. Hasdielmon’s eyes were blazing now, as the ends of his scarred fingers curled inwards.

“You carried out that monster’s will. You all carry his guilt. You shall suffer in his absence.”

“ If he dies, who’s going to protect the rest of us from you?”

A shining blur rushed forwards, and within seconds Doedimon stood in front of the defence lectern, spinning his chain maces. The guards made a tentative move, but they were blocked in seconds as Tobiumon and Baboongamon guarded their leader, giving him the room to move.

“Diamond Diabolo! ”

The weapon spun forwards, aiming in an arc directly for the angel’s head. Hasdielmon huffed, moving his arm and deflecting the projectile head on, causing a grazing blow against his forearm. But for just a second the grip was broken, and Mollumon was the first to move, lunging sideways and grappling Serpemon to the ground. They lay for a moment, taking great choking breaths as the influence left them, before the serpent raised a shaking finger.

“Grab...the...journal…”

Mollumon turned around, seeing the book unguarded on the lectern, at just the same time as Hasdielmon did the same. His lower body splayed apart, and then split with a cracking noise, as the angel flew downwards with an outstretched hand.

“Mount Stone!”

“Geodesic Tomb!”

The two heavy hitters of the rebels moved quickly, pressing their force against the angel, but he was still a Mega level and the attacks only slowed him, his arm bursting through and grasping at the book. But Mollumon was closer, springing forwards on his tentacles and taking it from the angel. They latched just for a second; the scarred fingers grasping at the front face and threatening to pull it from Mollumon’s grip.

The angel failed, and the octopus pulled backwards, his tentacles instinctively enwrapping the journal and leaving Hasdielmon’s fist clenched. Another push from Baboongamon and Doedimon caused him to tilt sideways, and he saw Muscovymon stood up again, newly freed and his cannon charged.

“Cannonball QUACK!”

“GET DOWN!”

Rebels, guards and Elites alike hit the ground, leaving a clean shot for Muscovymon as his blast hit Hasdielmon square in the centre of the chest. It threw him backwards, and he crashed into the side of the courthouse, the impact making his base rattle and his wings spread out. His head lulled forwards for a second, before he pushed back once more, throwing him into the centre of the room with a single mighty beat of his wings.

“THANATOS LIANA!”

Hasdielmon froze in mid-air as the tendrils wrapped over his limbs, his wings, his neck and torso, binding him in seconds. He turned his head to see Hamadryamon standing back on her podium; hands shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks, but vines still pulsing out from her wounded arms. She shook her head, trying to speak but choking on her own tears.

A clicking sound brought Hasdielmon’s attention back forwards, and he saw Muscovymon and Doedimon stood side by side; out of breath, but standing firm, their weapons trained upon him.

A gentle humming from behind him spoke to Gryllimon doing the same, as he felt her tapping fingers resonating with his own body. He turned his head, only barely able to look behind him as he watched the cricket stand to her full height – still tiny in comparison to him, but with an authority and an aura as the metal map before her twisted into writhing strands, following her lead like she was the conductor of an orchestra.

“Gryllimon...I thought...you understood…”

The cricket didn’t reply, instead spreading her arms apart as the ornate metal tendrils shot forwards towards him. She shouted, her soft voice echoing around the chamber.

“By the power and control vested in the Spokes Sovereignty, we reject the actions of our member and revoke his control over the Capital. Proposed by Archivist.”

Muscovymon lowered his head. “Seconded by Strategist.”

Hamadryamon swallowed. “C...conf-f-firmed by Culturist…”

Hasdielmon’s eyes flashed, but as he twisted the fingers of his left hand, he could feel the influence over the structure of the courthouse fading, the purple glow no longer following his lead. Gryllimon turned her hands, and the metalwork followed her completely, tracing over Hamadryamon’s vines and locking Hasdielmon even more firmly in place, leaving him suspended and frozen in the centre of the courthouse. Bound, helpless, with nothing but the visible fury in his eyes, and the shaking of his clenched fist.

“You...all of you...have no idea...what they’re capable of…”

The angel rose his head slightly, his featureless face nevertheless staring daggers at the group standing at the edge of the courthouse. Guards and rebels, holding a line, still trying to comprehend the act of fury and impulse they’d just witnessed.

He lunged suddenly, his great form straining against his bindings, but they held fast, no longer under his command. Hamadryamon held her hand more tightly, her free one clenched over her tear-stricken face.

“Hasdielmon...it’s okay, we can...we can talk about this...darling, please look at m-”

“Don’t call me that.”

His voice, flat and emotionless, nevertheless stabbed at her, as he wouldn’t even look in her direction.

“I feel nothing towards you. Any of you.”

“That’s as it may,” said Muscovymon in his broad baritone, as he stood at the head of the courthouse, “but you have willingly broken the laws of the Spokes and committed acts of intent to kill. Your crimes will be dealt with by a just tribunal.”

The duck turned his head, his mechanical eye picking out Mollumon and Serpemon from the crowd. “Don’t think this changes anything though. Muspelmon’s confessions will be brought to light. The beast we have captive cannot be allowed to create further chaos.” He lowered his cap. “This may indict the three of you, as it will myself.”

Mollumon lowered his head. “I’m prepared for that. I’m only concerned about the truth.” He held the edge of the journal before him. “I think...I’m sure we all are…”

He raised his eyebrow, and held the tome before him, the contents locked away once again. “The sigyl’s missing. The key…I can’t get inside...”

“Oh no…”

Coremon’s voice was tiny amidst the conversation, but it was still present. He turned the cage around, trying to make the journal out, or get someone’s attention, but he only found himself spinning towards Hasdielmon. And with horror, he realised the angel was staring right at him.

Hasdielmon had been banking on the journal. The secrets revealed within, allowing him the means to control Crocottamon. But Muspelmon had been cautious; even within his private writings, he’d made sure to keep the secret hidden.

But he’d still made preparations. And somehow, Coremon had been able to completely command Crocottamon. To take this ghost of flame and fury, and bring him to a complete standstill. There he was, in the cage just above him, still swinging gently.

Coremon couldn’t have known. Hasdielmon knew that much. As they’d stated; there was no reason for Muspelmon to lie in his own journal. The general hadn’t told a soul.

But Coremon had read the journal first. And he had figured it out.

Something stirred in Hasdielmon’s mind. The wording of the journal. Coremon’s look of horror. The key.

The key that he’d just now managed to grab, locking the information away once again.

And Coremon could see the understanding within those pure, blazing eyes, as Hasdielmon tilted his burned hand upwards, the brooch glinting between his fingers, black and bronze in the haze.

“CROCOTTAMON!”

The Sovereignty stopped, all attention back on the angel as he looked forwards, the gilded symbol of Fire emblazened in his grip. And only Coremon looked aside at the other cage; silent, still, the behemoth within staring out at the captive angel.

He was never loyal to Muspelmon. Or Coremon.

He was loyal to the flame.

And whoever held it.

“CROCOTTAMON, GET OUT!”

Coremon grasped the window of his cage, screaming at the top of his lungs. “SOMEONE GET THE KEY FROM HIM BEFORE-”

It was too late. There came the sound of ripping metal, and nails on slate, and in less than a second and with an almighty, terrifying roar, Crocottamon exploded from his cage.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Wheels of white ash cascaded through the air as Crocottamon’s body flexed, moving properly for the first time since Coremon’s command the previous night. He landed atop Hasdielmon’s podium, and skidded sideways, nearly toppling over before his claws hooked inwards, latching him in place.

He swung his head around, no sense nor reasoning in his eyes as he looked for the symbol – the symbol that guided him and commanded him without question. He found it, seeing the key in Hasdielmon’s hand as he was held frozen in Hamadryamon’s vines and Gryllimon’s web.

The angel looked behind him, his burning eyes meeting Hamadryamon’s mask as she stood there, terrified and still.

“Hasdielmon...wait-”

“Remove her. Finish the job I gave you.”

“NO!”

The dryad recoiled in an instant, her hands coming before her and splaying into vines in a vain attempt to stop the beast as his attention instantly clicked towards her again. But panic was her driver, and her movements were wild, and sloppy. She could only stare at her own growing forest being torn apart in front of her eyes, ash cascading in her direction from the hyena’s illuminated maw.

“ Please no…”

“MOVE!”

A figure lunged into her from the right, thrusting her away from the podium, and suddenly Muscovymon was there, cannon arm already swinging outwards as the glow expanded within it. It slammed into Crocottamon’s face with a flash and an almighty boom, the explosion sending him and Hamadryamon sideways, and just about deflecting the hyena’s movements.

The Sovereign turned around, holding arms out in front of Hamadryamon, but already he could feel his movements failing as his cannon arm set on fire. Crocottamon slammed into the wall above him, throwing ash in all directions, and latching onto the wall with great claw marks. He turned in an instant, the command still fresh in his head as he focused on Hamadryamon once again.

“Disruption Frequency!”

The sound – audible and piercing and utter pain – echoing around the chamber as Gryllimon’s wings opened up beneath her cloak. Crocottamon shook his head, and tried to leap, but his limbs wouldn’t obey him, the sound blocking out his senses temporarily. He thrashed back and forth, tearing streaks away from the wall with every movement as it decayed with his touch.

Gryllimon looked aside, her antennae quivering with the effort of moving, and she stared at the three Elites from their position on the podium.

“ Go...now...what are you waiting for…”

“Open the doors, now! Get everybody out!”

Muscovymon’s cry spurred the guards into action, along with Baboongamon and Doedimon as they pulled each great gate in turn, wrenching the historic aperture apart. The smaller rebels escaped first, then anyone else who could while the two strongest rebels and the commander of the guard guided them through. It took seconds, but seconds that they barely had as Crocottamon roared; a blast of white ash that nearly melted Gryllimon where she stood. She doubled down, her wings droning higher and louder, even as Serpemon reached out for her.

“You have to get out as well!”

“Serpemon...all of you…”

The cricket’s claws clenched inwards, and she looked at them beneath her hood, her eyes shining purple behind her bandages.

“You have...to stop this…”

Serpemon stared helplessly, even as Mollumon grabbed him in one tentacle and Coremon in another, bursting out through the doors even as one shook itself loose from the immense power. A laugh from Crocottamon merged with a roar from Hasdielmon as his wings splayed again, snapping the mere metal that now bound him.

“I won’t let you get AWAY! GUILT CONSTRUCT!”

The Elites froze from Hasdielmon’s grip, all three of them held in place as he focused on them. Behind him, Crocottamon lunged again, causing Gryllimon’s footing to stumble. Muscovymon held up his cannon arm, but it swung uselessly, the barrel and half of his side torn away by the decaying embers.

HAAAAHAHHAHAHHAA

“Oh, shut up!”

Gryllimon’s hold broke just a second before Muscovymon lunged forwards, plunging the remnants of his cannon deep into Crocottamon’s open maw.

“CANNONBALL QUACK!”

BOOOOOOOM

With no barrel to guide it, the energy burst out uncontrolled, tearing through the hyena’s body and sending him hurtling backwards into the screaming wall...and straight through it.

Down in the capital below, the noise wrenched the entire district sideways, toppling buildings and distressing citizens. They looked up, seeing the fading light from Muscovymon’s last-ditch attack, and the falling body of Crocottamon as he landed on one of the high towers.

The interior of the Courthouse was torn asunder, ancient metalwork writhing from the blow and causing pillars and alcoves to topple inwards, down into the chasm beneath. Hasdielmon spread his wings, hissing to himself, and before any of the other Sovereigns could stop him he flew upwards, through the same blast hole as he left them to their fate in the collapsing courthouse.

The still atmosphere caught him as he hovered, looking down at the capital, glinting and glittering as always, in that same, sickening fashion as it had for aeons. He looked left and right, but there was no sign of the three Fire soldiers, nor any of the rebels.

“No...no, no...I will not let you run away from this...”

Haha

The angel lowered his gaze. There, only just below him, lay the fractured body of Crocottamon. Already moving, and already pulling itself together, the blast a mere setback against his mighty untapped internal power.

Hasdielmon hovered down, and Crocottamon turned towards him, ready to attack. Then pausing again, the expression turning from maddened fury to immediate subservience, as the key glittered in Hasdielmon’s palm, held out in front of him.

“You poor thing. With that power you wield, how long can you last…?”

Ddhhaddy.

The angel sighed, still holding his arm out. The sounds of devastation behind him were fading, giving way to the concerned voices from all around the capital. Hasdielmon’s hand shook, but he steeled himself, speaking under his breath.

“We have one chance. Just one, to end their reign for good. And for that, we...we need a spectacle. You can do that, right?”

Ha

“You’ll do anything I say now...right?”

Haha

The angel’s shoulders jerked. Just momentarily. A stab of cruel mirth amongst the fury.

“Hah…”

Hasdielmon’s hair blew in the synthetic breeze, as he held the sigyl out closer, his voice flat and empty.

“Tear this all down. Every building, and every citizen. Let no-one escape, and leave no-one alive.”

Crocottamon’s eyes flashed into coherence, just for a split second. Perhaps some comprehension of the magnitude of the order. Or perhaps something else.

Then he turned, and leapt downwards, the spiralling towards of the capital building falling after him where he struck them.

Hasdielmon took a deep, contemplative breath, his eyes focused ahead on nothing.

Then he turned, and with a mighty beat of his wings, he set off in search of the three Elites, as the screams of terror and death from the silver city below began to fill the artificial sky.

TO BE CONTINUED…