The stench – burning metal, sparks and smoke, reaching its tendrils through the twisting city – was the first indication for many. So quick was he, and so wild, galloping back and forth through buildings and sculptures and gardens, his direction non-existent but his way unhindered.

For the first moment there was nothing but the acrid odour, as his claws sliced through a Rabbitmon and a Zubamon, his open maw removed the front quarters of a Bullmon and the trailing ashes behind him dissolved a block of citizens’ quarters in seconds, leaving their blackened data to trickle down past the skeletal remains of the building.

For the second moment, there was only time for awareness. Heads turning as they parted from bodies. Eyes looking out even as the ashes struck them, boring out through their skulls. Only a glimmer of time. Heat. Pain. The end. The ashes and glowing white flame, and the maniacal laughter from deep within his own disintegrating throat.

So it was only in the third moment, as the Spokes citizenry slightly further out had precious few more seconds to turn and see the oncoming shape of devastation, and the dead and disintegrated left in his wake.

It was only in that moment that the screaming began.

Crocottamon’s mind was a melding of lights and sounds and dim sensations as he ran, only barely cognisant of anything around him even as his body tore through it like acid. The helter-skelter from the past few hours. White, then silver, then gold, and now this strange otherworldly purple. Anger, then familiarity.

He’d heard the words from within his cage, perhaps firing off hints of memories, but so formless and shapeless now that they meant nothing. Only the symbol remained at the forefront of his vision, burning brightly and casting all else into shadow.

He skidded to a stop, whipping his head round as a couple of sources of movement were eviscerated by his jaws. The sigyl was still there. It had called on him for something. Destroy everything. Leave no-one alive.

Especially not them. Those three nameless ones. He’d thought one of them was important, not too long ago. Now he didn’t think so. There was only one instruction driving him.

He had to find them. Out of everything in this wild, confusing labyrinth of a place, they were the closest thing he had to a focal point.

Crocottamon raised his head, taking in a breath as ashes fell from his throat. The great nostrils atop of his malformed snout quivered, opening wide. Scorched metal, purged data, burning flesh, all melded into one soup of sensations. Too much for him to process at once.

He held his head higher, and forced the rest of his body to shut down for a second, leaving him standing static in the midst of white flame. One thing at a time. One sensation at a time.

That one. That familiar one. He could remember his scent. In fact...they were all the same familiar scent. One of the shapeless memories from his past.

His head shot down again, his body restarting and his jaws opening. His head whipped round, once, twice, before settling on a direction, the purple and silver swirling in his ash-clouded vision.

He had them. Those targets. His mission.

With a guttural laugh within his throat, he lumbered around, and charged forwards into the districts, leaving only dead metal in his wake.

The smoke had yet to clear from the capital building, as it shimmered and groaned, the great living force within reeling from the brutal assault. Muscovymon coughed up silver dust as he tried desperately to push himself into an upright position.

“ARGH!”

Pain jabbed him in the right shoulder as he collapsed downwards, hearing a clattering of metal. Something sprung out, followed by the unmistakeable sensation of his own blood pouring down onto the metal below. Hissing through his beak, he pulled his other arm out, and pressed the web hand over the stump of his shoulder. There was a glow and a sound of searing flesh, causing him to roar in pain. But it stopped the sound. For now at least.

“Let...me...move!”

His legs pushed against rubble, and suddenly he was free, rolling over onto his back as he stared up. The courthouse had been ravaged; the great hole through the ceiling, and ashen scars around the walls from Crocottamon’s claws. All around him guards and remaining rebels were gathering themselves up, caught by the eddies of his own blast, but thankfully away from the worst of the decaying ash.

Muscovymon placed an arm over his face, grinding his beak so much now that it crunched.

“I’d never wanted to feel this way again…”

“Be thankful you can feel at all.”

“Gryllimon.”

Muscovymon held out an arm as the cricket supported him, her hood blackened and pocked by soot. Slowly he got to his feet, swaying sideways as the new imbalance hit him, but he managed to stay standing as he reached his full height.

“All this time...I knew there was something wrong, even after everything I tried to do to fix this place...but I never would have guessed – out of all of us – that it would be him.”

Gryllimon lowered her head, tapping the tips of her fingers together.

“It seems you’re not the only one.”

The duck looked over his shoulder, at the gaping hole left by Crocottamon’s exit. And the lone figure of Hamadryamon as she stood there, staring out with her long, now ragged hair flowing in the new breeze.

Muscovymon’s breathing was heavy as he made his way over, picking over fallen pillars and splintered pedestals, until he was stood beside her. His vision was wrecked, but he could make out the swimming images before him; the great white and grey swathes cut through the capital district, the fallen arches and crumpled buildings. And he could hear the howling and wailing, melding with the intense laughter still rumbling in the distance.

“My home…”

The dryad shuddered, and breathed in as she did so, turning towards Muscovymon. He could see the dark marks swimming between the scars on her cheek; tears dragging ash and dirt down her ruined skin.

“I...I loved him...Muscovymon...I loved him as much as I love this place...and he tried to kill me…he looked me in the eye and told that...that thing…”

She held out a hand at an angle, reaching out towards the former commander. He looked at it. And didn’t move, his blank expression moving back up towards her face, as she pulled her hand back.

“He had us all fooled.”

The slight voice of Gryllimon drew the pair’s attention as she walked up beside them, her antennae quivering. “All this time he was the best of us. The just and the wise. He’s up there now, isn’t he…”

Hamadryamon looked up, seeing the vast curved dome of the roof of the Spokes. The angel’s vast form was hovering there, wings beating slowly as he scoured left and right. So tiny, and yet so destructive. Commanding his monster from afar.

“He’s looking for the Elites.”

Muscovymon lowered his beak. “Why bother? He’s already set Crocottamon loose on a rampage. If they can’t get out of the Spokes, they’re as good as dead anyway.”

“He’s still searching though.”

Hamadryamon held out an arm sideways, looking at her hand as it twitched against the wall. “They exposed him. Brought out the truth about him and what he did. Perhaps that’s all it needs to turn a kind man into a tyrant. Tearing down those walls of kindness.”

“What are you going to do about it then?”

Another soft voice, but not from Gryllimon. The Sovereigns turned, looking down at Doedimon and Baboongamon, and the remaining rebels gathered behind them. Doedimon held out a hand, pointing up to where Hasdielmon was.

“You’re the Sovereignty. One of you turns, the other three of you can stop him. That’s what you promised us with this rule of yours. Accountability. Restraint. A failsafe to make sure this couldn’t happen. So let me ask you again…”

Doedimon took a step forwards, and as he did so Baboongamon growled, as did Tobiumon, and suddenly a dozen voices of fury were aimed towards the Sovereigns, as they stood at the edge of their former palace.

“What are you going to DO?”

Hamadryamon made to speak, but her tongue felt dull and her words hollow. She looked over at the other two, but Gryllimon merely shook her head as she held up quivering fingers, and Muscovymon stared emptily ahead, his torn arm dark and oozing.

“…..I can’t take this anymore…..”

The dryad sat down, and wrapped her arms around her head and shoulders, her hair falling raggedly over herself as she trembled in a ball. Baboongamon snorted, and spat on the ground.

“Pathetic.”

Gryllimon’s antennae twitched, and she looked out over the burned battlefield. “I can hear blast shots.”

Muscovymon looked out as well, his mechanical eye refocusing. “That must be the royal guard. They’ve moved already.”

Doedimon lowered his head. “Do they stand a chance?”

The duck shook his head. “The best they can do is slow him down.”

“That doesn’t seem to be stopping them,” said the rebel leader, resting his arm on one of his maces. “At the very least you seem to have instilled some form of resistive spirit during your time as a Sovereign.”

Muscovymon held his remaining hand up to his beak, staring out at the wreckage. The battle raged harder in the distance, the shots and shouting not letting up, even as he could hear the unmistakable screams of his guards dying.

Looking down, he could see movement. Survivors from the wreckage; few, but present, clambering out and freeing their own, many still standing where others couldn’t yet.

“The Elites…those cocky buggers...they’re drawing him away.”

He clenched his fist, a slight smile playing over his beak. It seemed like the spirit of the Fire Kingdom that he had admired for so long wasn’t dead just yet. And, through the dour hopelessness of the situation, it nonetheless sparked something deep within him once more.

All of a sudden he turned towards Doedimon, his stance broad and confident once more. “The rest of the rebels; they’re in the catacombs, aren’t they?”

Doedimon nodded. “We sent down anyone who needed more protection while Crocottamon was brought up. The young and the frail.”

Muscovymon turned towards Gryllimon. “You’re the archivist. Open them up as fully as you can.” He turned back to the window, his cape blowing in the breeze. “Maybe we can’t fight that thing but we have an opportunity to reduce his damage. Any citizens you find, bring them in. I don’t know what those Elites are planning but while they’re fighting for us we can ride out this storm. Save as many as we can.”

He looked down at Hamadryamon, expectation on his face. The dryad curled up further, her teeth grinding. “I can’t...we can’t save the Spokes like this...we can’t-”

“Oh, get UP!”

Muscovymon reached down, and pulled the dryad up by the arm, standing her up beside him as she looked into his eyes. “We all need to help now. We brought this on the Spokes; we owe our people that much at least.”

Hamadryamon choked. “Do you think they will accept the Sovereignty now-”

“What Sovereignty?”

Muscovymon turned her out towards the window, showing her the struggling citizens below. “Sovereigns of what? These are the Spokes now – the people clinging on to a dying nation, like they always have. If we can’t serve them as Sovereigns, then the Sovereignty is dead. We join them as survivors, and equals.”

Hamadryamon stared in awe at him; at his face, firm and determined, but not angry.

“Hasdielmon was the pillar for the people. If he’s betrayed us, then it’s our job to take his place. If that means our rule is over, then so be it. At least we’ll all have a tomorrow.”

Hamadryamon’s hands were still shaking. She stared down at them, curling her fingers as the broken skin spit and rippled. A faint glow appeared at her fingertips, prompting the growth of a small cluster of vines. Muscovymon reached out, gently holding her by the palm.

“If you ever cared anything for these people, even just a little, now’s the time to show it.”

The dryad didn’t answer. She only moved her head a fraction; the slightest of nods towards the former commander.

Muscovymon returned the gesture, before turning back towards Gryllimon. “Open the catacombs. Make as many paths out of the city as possible. I’m counting on you.”

“Of course.”

“The rest of you, anyone who can move and can help carry or support, follow me.”

He turned towards Doedimon. “If you have rebels waiting underground you should go to them. They’ll need your help as well.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got my own mission.”

Muscovymon paused, looking at the hooded beast, with Baboongamon crouched next to him. “Your guards can slow that beast down, you said? I’m assuming that means you’re putting your faith in the Elites to stop it.”

The duck looked down. “I’m putting my faith in their resolve. How that’s going to turn out, I don’t know.”

“Then they could do with all the help we can give them.”

Doedimon stood up straight, tapping himself on the chest. “I’m strong enough to fight. If I can offer support, that’s where I’m best used.”

“But the rebels-”

“I’m leaving them in your hands. Hand. Don’t let me down.”

Muscovymon ground his beak. “Alright. But don’t throw your life away without a fight.”

“Trust me, I fully intend to fight.” Doedimon walked past Muscovymon, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I doubt we’re going to meet again. Carry on in my place, won’t you?”

The beast walked to the edge of the window, looking down into the streets. He became aware of Baboongamon’s hulking form beside him, and looked up with curious eyes.

“You not staying to help?”

“And let you get all the fun? I’m strong as well. My place is with you.”

“Your family’s going to miss you if you go down with me.”

“We’ve all got someone we miss.” The great creature grinned beneath his stone mask. “Regrets mean that we’re alive. And moving forwards. If it keeps them all alive, I’m willing to deal with it.”

A screech from the distance, somewhere between a laugh and a scream, brought everybody present back into focus. Doedimon stole one last glance behind him, at the three former Sovereigns already moving. He gave a quick wave, at nobody in particular, before he and his second-in-command leapt down towards the distant devastation.

“Fire soldiers...you’d better have a plan…”

Coremon had never run so fast in his entire life. He could feel the silvery buildings whipping by beside him, some of them fast enough to graze his skin with the movement. But he didn’t stop. He dared not stop, not while he could hear the slicing and the melting behind him.

He tried to look over his shoulder to see anything behind him, but his senses were just overwhelmed. All he could see was Mollumon just beside him, having an even worse time trying to run at speed than he was. He was hunched over, his tentacles shooting out at any exposed rod, so he moved at more of a gallop than a run.

“Where….are we going…”

A roar sounded behind them, and Mollumon grimaced and buckled down even more. “Anywhere away from here.”

“The others-”

“The others are fine, Coremon.” The octopus pulled his ears back, facing him with beady eyes. “Hasdielmon wants us dead as a priority. And as long as we can hear that beast behind us, we can assume it’s following his plan. So the others aren’t in danger; we are.”

Coremon swallowed. “...and anyone else in his way…”

Mollumon hissed, and was about to reply when a bladed spike shot down metres away from him, causing him to veer. He cursed as he half-dragged Coremon into a new pathway, further spikes raining from the sky, and then they realised that an entire building was collapsing down right down the alleyway they were running.

“WIGGLES, RIGHT!”

“SHIT!”

Another hard right. Coremon felt the splinters pepper his arm and he yowled himself, but his legs weren’t stopping for anything. He looked to his left as Serpemon sped along beside him, whipping his tail back and forth for propulsion like a black mamba.

“We’re going the wrong way. Back to the left.”

“I know, I remember, I’m just trying to stay out of his line of-”

A cackle chilled the three to their spines as they looked back as one, their eyes meeting with the dim vision of Crocottamon only a hundred metres away.

“Oh hell.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!

They barely touched the ground, almost throwing each other forwards in a mad sprint to the edge of the capital district. But they were slower. Far slower. Serpemon’s tail orb flickered and Coremon felt his arms growing white hot, but they all knew there was no fighting they could do. If they were caught, they were dead.

HHHAGHHHHHHGGHGH

Coremon reacted fastest now, his arms opening in a sweeping motion as he yanked Serpemon out the way of a sweeping lake of ash, cascading over the edge like a waterfall. The sudden attack broke their momentum, and the three looked back to see Crocottamon’s lumbering body, jaw open and with a clear shot at all of them.

“Plasma Splitter!”

Bolts of white-hot energy shot out at Crocottamon from either side. His muscles spasmed and split at the seams, causing him to collapse in his own ash pile, gnashing at thin air. The Elites could see the sturdy horns of AtlurBallistamon in between the buildings at the side, and looking closer, smaller figures of Sagittarimon and Rinkmon galloping in lines flanking the deadly maw. The Spokes Royal Guard had reached them.

A red shape glided in front of them from the right, Frozomon’s single yellow eye swinging towards them. “You three still here?”

A cracking sound caught their attention, as Crocottamon slammed a claw into the ground, causing one of the streams to disconnect. He made to pounce, but two more bolts struck him from further back, more of the heavy gunners in reserve. Mollumon ground his beak as he saw the juddering motion of the nearest AtlurBallistamon.

“They can’t hold him. You’ve got to get out of here.”

“To where? It’s a closed city. Fightings all we’ve got.”

Frozomon planted his metallic fist against the ground, and Mollumon could see the chunks already taken out of it – wounds from mere momentary contact with the deadly white ash.

“You’re going to stop this thing, right?”

Coremon looked aghast, but Mollumon and Serpemon nodded in unison. Frozomon huffed, and tilted his body as his ballistics module aimed at the ground.

“There’s another carriage half a kilometre down the edge. Run. Get to where you need to; we’ll keep him held. Glaciate Missile!”

The projectile slammed into the ground, creating a pathway of ice over the boiling ash. In an instant it released streams of steam at the edges, but the three were already running, clearing the field in seconds. Coremon glanced over his shoulder to see Frozomon veering round, firing further missiles at the downed Crocottamon.

He tried to shout something. Anything. But his mouth wouldn’t work, and his legs wouldn’t stop. And the captain of the guard was lost too in the blurring buildings.

The crackling plasma wrapped around Crocottamon’s neck, causing him to make choking sounds as his head bowed low. With a jerk he managed to take a step, but another cry of “Glaciate Missile!” and his forelegs were encased in black ice. He looked up, his eyes swimming as he tried to focus on the red guard before him.

Frozomon stared back, terrified to even break eye contact, but he could see the streams of plasma from the gunners starting to waver. A volley of arrows from up above where the Sagittarimon were, and a vanguard of Rinkmon, using their speed and prowess to throw projectiles in a fly-by formation. Crocottamon snapped, and one screamed as he was peppered with ash, falling to the ground below.

Another two missiles, but they were mere ornaments on the behemoth’s body now, no more capable of holding him than the weakening streams of energy. Frozomon pressed his fist against the ground, yelling at the top of his voice.

“Any of you...if you see an opportunity...then just run!”

Aaasshhgen

A sudden new burst of heat, and Frozomon braced himself as the goliath’s hulking form arched his back.

EXPULSSSION

In a movement far outside what his body should have been capable of, Crocottamon’s front half snapped to the side, and he opened his maw wide as a spiralling spike of white hot ash came bursting out, far removed from the random waves of before. It struck one of the AtlurBallistamon true, and the poor gunner was split open in an instant, his plasma releasing in sputtering bursts as his body was opened up from the shoulders down.

The explosion caught his companion, causing them to crash to the ground with buckled horn and twisted claw. But they got off lightly; the electric nets had halved in strength, and with a guttural sound from his jaws Crocottamon twisted, still firing the beam in a vast arc. It strafed over the rooftops above, and screams of sudden pain indicated the decimation of the volley of guards posted there.

Frozomon could see the dots rushing over the balustrades, the remaining flanks no longer safe with their distance.

“I SAID RUN!”

The sudden booming noise caused Crocottamon to whip his head round, mouth crunching down on a volley of frozen missiles – the last of Frozomon’s reserve. They crunched, and expanded, encasing the hyena’s head in a block of ice as he thrust it back and forth, already releasing steam.

Frozomon looked either side of him, but the ash lake was still present, and the other side was a wall of untouched buildings. Looking ahead once again, he saw Crocottamon barrelling towards him, his jaws flapping open in frozen and thawed strips, remelding themselves even as he ran.

“...and they told me it would be safe to be stationed here…”

With a final mechanical move, he twisted his body almost in half, his blade glowing red hot as he aimed it at Crocottamon’s jammed maw.

“Defrost Bla-”

HAAAGH

He was engulfed before he could finish, Crocottamon’s clenched claw splintering through his engine and boiler, and reducing his internals to shreds, even as the monster’s upper jaw was seared in two. Frozomon’s blade kept going from the sheer force he put into it, reaching the top of Crocottamon’s neck. It lodged there for a good few seconds – a burning pain in Crocottamon’s skull – before he let off a juddering shake and the twisted and hollow metal was split into fragments, reduced to mere glints of red falling over the edge of the capital district.

The sound of the venting steam and crunching metal spread wide, causing all three of the Elites to shudder in turn. Coremon whipped his head around, staring hollowly back through the buildings.

“Oh no…”

“We’re out of time,” said Serpemon hurriedly, as he grappled with the juddering cords that held the shuttle in place. “It seems like he’s able to track us. We need to get off the capital.”

“It’s our fault.”

Serpemon frowned as he looked down at the red manticore, whose head was low, staring down at the ground in a moment of sudden and crippling horror.

“That creature...that beast came from the Fire Kingdom...we brought it into being...I brought it here...ho...how many are dying right now because of me-”

“Coremon, listen to me.”

In a flash of purple, Coremon was whipped round, and he suddenly found his head clamped between Mollumon’s tentacles, as his eyes stared directly into the pinpoint sparks of his partner’s. He was held still – only for a couple of seconds, but for what felt like hours.

“Muspelmon created that monster. Muspelmon’s the one to blame here. You, me, Serpemon – none of us had any idea. Don’t let Hasdielmon’s words get to you; he’s trying to punish a nation for the rogue actions of one. And he’s allowing the slaughter of more innocents to make it happen.”

His ear flaps shifted, and Coremon felt a shaking in the grip that held him – the octopus’s words as much for himself as it was for Coremon.

“We believe in the creed of the Fire Kingdom. Servitude, diligence, and justice. One of our number has committed a sin, and it’s our duty to make it right.”

“But...you’ve seen Crocottamon...what could any of us possibly do-”

Coremon stared ahead, and then looked aside, up towards the shuttle as Serpemon sat atop it. The snake grinned, and tapped the side.

“Right now, we’re the only ones whocan do anything to stop him, remember. Let’s stand by that.”

Coremon let out a breath, holding his forehead just for a moment against the barrel chest of Mollumon. Then he straightened up, and in a flash had clambered up towards the shuttle, the octopus swinging up after him. From behind them they could hear lumbering footsteps and the tearing of metal; Crocottamon’s pursuit starting up anew.

“He must be able to sense our direction. Smell or heat vision or something.”

Coremon turned towards Serpemon as the shuttle jerked into life, gliding up on the rails even as they shook back and forth. “These things aren’t meant for high speed. We’ll never get to the south district before he catches us.”

“We can if I utilise the most foolproof propellant I’ve devised yet.”

Mollumon went pale, twisting his tentacles around the structure of the shuttle, as Coremon tilted his head.

“What’s that?”

Serpemon grinned, and pulled out a shard of metal, glowing green from his own flames.

“Gravity.”

In a sharp movement he sliced the rails behind them, leaving the shuttle only suspended from the front two. No longer supported, the frontmost network began to buckle, flexing downwards with a horrendous screeching. Coremon grabbed the vessel as well as it began to descend, gaining speed as it weakened the structure further.

“Look out!”

A gnashing of teeth behind them indicated their presence to Crocottamon, as he splayed against the edge of the capital district with glowing jaws. Mollumon aimed his barrel, firing off boluses of magma at their assailant as they descended further and further from him, out of the reach of his claws. But he’d seen them now, and was pacing, looking over the lip of the district.

“If he dives down after us we can’t outrun him!”

“We can if we stay out of reach,” yelled Serpemon, and he pointed to the side. “The rails. That’s what we need to follow.”

The three looked at the approaching single rail, the main network across the districts as it rapidly approached. The falling shuttle was reaching a high speed now, and their one chance at safety was approaching at a frightening rate. Coremon braced himself, calculating the jump in his head even as Mollumon pulled him and Serpemon close, wrapping them in his tentacles.

ASHEN EXPULLLSION

“GO!”

The white-hot blast strafed upwards, aimed at the shuttle supports rather than the rail, but Mollumon had already jumped, taking the risk of being too early rather than too late. He reached out with his free tentacles, holding them in a spring formation, and with a clang they struck the rail, his comrades falling either side while still wrapped in his grip. Serpemon screeched as he swung out over the abyss, seeing Crocottamon’s blast strafing out below him.

“PULL UP! PULL UP!”

Mollumon lunged forwards, yanking both his partners up onto the rail itself before falling forwards, the effort having strained his tentacles to the max. But they were there; one step ahead once again. And ahead of them – a straight run through to the south district, and the waiting rail terminal.

But one step was all it was, and they couldn’t afford to stop, as all three of them mustered their draining energy to run across the bare rail.

Serpemon could feel the fatigue within his entire body as he coiled back and forth, scrabbling along with his hands as well for all the good it was doing. He glanced back, seeing the dark hulking shape of Crocottamon clambering across the network of rails that held up the smoking capital.

“It looks like he’s taking the low road.”

“Can he get back up again if he’s down there?”

Serpemon grimaced, watching Crocottamon lumber back and forth with grasping hands, with the agility of an ape swinging through the treetops.

“By the looks of it he can do whatever he wants.”

“We have to take our victories where we can,” stated Mollumon, wrestling his way across the rail himself. “If he’s down there it’s going to take longer, and we have to rely on his poor direction. At least now we have a straight run, so long as we’re not interrupted.”

“I don’t think we have alot of OPTIONS!”

“Celestial Hail!”

The rail was suddenly illuminated by a rain of glowing daggers, shooting down like a storm. The Elites yelled, forcing their speed up as far as they could, before Coremon had a chance to look back towards the sky.

“It’s Hasdielmon! He’s seen us.”

Serpemon clicked his teeth and growled in an exasperated way. “You know what? This feels decidedly unfair.”

The dome was clear, the mist hanging low as it was eaten by the fire and smoke from the capital. Thus the three of them could see the vast figure of the angel, his wings beating slowly, but with enough force to approach them like a meteor. He raised his hands, his eyes glowing vividly even at this great distance.

“You won’t escape from me!”

Pinpricks of light burst into life across the sky once again, before a hundred falling stars shot towards the Elites once again. They saw them coming this time, and moved in unison.

“Grab on!”

Mollumon dived one side, Serpemon the other, and Coremon lunged between them, the three of them using their momentum to keep swinging forwards underneath the rail, even as they saw the glowing daggers penetrate through the rail material all around them. Serpemon hissed, and banged hard against the rail with his tail.

“Death up above and death down below. We’ve not got a whole lot going for us right now.”

Coremon crawled forwards, glancing a look at the base of the Spokes as he did so. He couldn’t see Crocottamon anywhere, and that concerned him.

The hail above paused momentarily, but the greater imminent threat was the sound of further beating wings as Hasdielmon flew as fast as he could in their direction. Coremon shook himself back into focus. “If he comes close enough to use his Guilt Construct, we’re stuck. He can do what he wants with us then.”

“You two, maybe. I’ve done sod-all to be guilty of.” Serpemon paused himself, holding a flat palm against the rail material above. “How far away is he and how fast is he coming?”

Mollumon swung down further. “Less than five hundred metres, but he’s scanning the rail. He doesn’t know where we are yet.”

“Then we just need to time it right.”

HAGAGHAGAGGAAH

Crocottamon’s laugh chilled all three of them, but when they scanned for Crocottamon there was still no sign of him. Only a slowly rising stench of burning steel. Coremon tried to see further, but Serpemon pulled him back, holding the support beside him tightly. And it was only then that Coremon realised that the structure was vibrating.

“Wiggles! ETA?”

“He’s almost on us! Five...four…”

“It’ll hafta be three!”

They all swung back up, landing flat on the rail as both Coremon and Serpemon let off flares of flame into the air. Hasdielmon’s head turned towards them, and he raised his own palm, mere milliseconds before the main intercity shuttle shot underneath him, aiming head on for the three Elites.

“DAMNIT!”

He swerved, his wings too big to be able to manoeuvre him at speed, and he was forced to take a wide, crescent arc beneath the rail structure itself. His wings sliced through some smaller cables, sending the pendulums swinging away into the wastes below, before rising up once again.

“You little wretches…”

The shuttle was already far ahead, maintaining high speed through the districts, and at this level he could just make out the three dots that were the Elites, clutched tightly onto the front of the shuttle.

The angel clenched his fists, beating his wings as he cried out into the air.

“CROCOTTAMON!”

DHHAADY

“CLIMB!”

His voice carried far, reverberating across the metalwork of the Spokes. Hasdielmon bowed down, taking a moment to steady his mind. Then he leant forwards, beating his wings as he took off in pursuit once more.

Hasdielmon’s call reached down to the shuttle, where the three Elites were clutched to the front, bruised and battered by the impact, but out of the way of the angel for now. Mollumon groaned, sprawling himself out. “God, this day’s really doing a number on my elasticity.”

Coremon pressed his thumbs against the bridge of his nose, trying to focus on what he could feel. “That was an unreasonable amount of luck.”

“Don’t undermine my efforts so casually, my friend,” smarmed Serpemon, and he rapped a knuckle against the metal below him. “This here shuttle’s on our side.”

“Sure am.”

“Caesiumon?”

Coremon looked down, and saw the purple lights blinking against the surface on which he stood, the shuttle being an extension of the metal man’s own power. “How did you know to come to us?”

“The little serpentine chap paid me a little visit before heading to your trial. Told me to set things in motion.”

Mollumon folded his arms. “Not that we had a feeling the whole event might go badly, but still…”

Coremon blinked, and looked over at Serpemon, who was bobbing his head back and forth in a coy fashion.

“Is there anything that you don’t have some kind of plan for?”

“I don’t plan things. I just leave my options open, and improvise when the time comes. Anything to get us on the express train home.”

Coremon looked ahead at the oncoming wall of the Spokes, and the aperture below of the rail terminal.

“We just need to get there in one piece then…”

He squinted, seeing a dark shape on the far end of the rail, gripping onto the metalwork. And heard the oncoming laugh once again.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

“SHIT!”

Serpemon’s tail whipped behind him as he scrambled at the silver surface beneath him. “How can he get around this fast? What the hell was Muspelmon doing to him to make him such a fitness freak?”

“No time to think about that. We need to get him off the track. Caesiumon?”

“No can do. I’m focusing on moving you.”

“Damnit…”

Mollumon stood himself up, pulling his barrel over his head and angling himself forwards in a turret formation. “Coremon, you aim, I’ll shoot!”

“Got you,” said the manticore, rushing behind the barrel and tilting it straight forwards towards the lumbering figure of Crocottamon.

“Molten Mortar!”

Ball after ball of flame shot forwards, peppering Crocottamon before them with impeccable accuracy. But even with Mollumon firing with all his might and Coremon adding his own firepower to the mix, it was hopeless, every hit just fizzling away without even a dent in the beast’s momentum.

But it did get his attention, and his ire.

Crocottamon raised his head upwards, white fire gushing from his eye sockets and his jaws, and falling down on the track below him. It ate through, carving gouges from the chrome, and he stumbled from the scope of his own power as the structure began to twist sideways.

“It’s not enough!”

“Aim down!”

Serpemon joined Coremon behind Mollumon as they pushed towards the track itself, perforating the material as the whole structure began to tilt wildly. It was moving...just…not quickly enough, as the beast still focused upon them, unnatural reflexes and endurance keeping him steady and pointed in their direction. All he had to do was wait. Hang on. Once they reached him, he could complete his task. Once they reached him-

“Mount Stone!”

“Diamond Diabolo!”

The voices rang out, catching both the Elites and Crocottamon by surprise. And the hail of stones struck the rail with force, pressing it sideways and twisting it all the further.

Crocottamon made a half-turn, spying the forms of Doedimon and Baboongamon from their position on a passing balustrade.

And the turn delayed him just enough for the second wave – Doedimon’s almighty diamond mace – to strike the rail dead on, shattering it in one.

Shards of metal joined the volley of stone, creating a storm in the sky that swept Crocottamon up. He gnashed, white flames bursting in all directions he could, but even he couldn’t overcome gravity as he fell downwards, back towards the roots of the Spokes.

Coremon let out the breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. “We’ve got time. It’ll still take him a couple of minutes to come up from there.”

“I admire your optimism, chief, but we’re running out of track as well.”

The three looked ahead, the twisting structure approaching them at breakneck speed. The shuttle shimmered below them, as Caesiumon’s eyes blinked open at the front. “I’m going to jump. Hold on.”

Holes opened up along the shuttle as the three crouched down, holding onto whatever they could and bracing themselves. Caesiumon increased the speed, but the rail was collapsing beneath him now, angling downwards and threatening to plunge them all into the chasm along with Crocottamon. With a lurch the rear of the shuttle burst open into vents, as purple fire struck the tracks.

“Base Blaze!”

The pellets exploded, cracking the rail all the more but launching the shuttle forwards like a comet, sailing over the boundary of the southernmost district. Coremon opened an eye, squinting as he saw the edge of the wall of the Spokes; the rail terminal, rushing up to meet them at breakneck speed.

CRASH

SNAP

The world inverted. The shuttle caved in, growing pillars in front of it during the impact to lessen its momentum, but it still tumbled and scraped and skidded and juddered through station buildings, down balconies and roofs, until it embedded itself in the ground, the chrome surface pockmarked with debris and residual violet flame.

With a hiss, the side of the shuttle opened from inside, as Coremon and Serpemon fell outwards, motionless for a few crucial seconds. Coremon was the first to raise his head, squinting against the silver haze all around him.

“Wha...where...Mollumon?”

“I’m here. I’m achghuifl….alive…”

The manticore looked up at the roof, where his friend was lying through a balcony, his barrel nursing several splintered slats and his body horrendously twisted and bruised. He looked up, pointing a feeble tentacle forwards.

“The...terminal…”

Coremon pushed forwards, but yelled out involuntarily as his leg wrenched sideways, caught by the sharp shards of metal from the shuttle. As the pain began to hit in waves, so did the increased sensory overload from the destruction around him...and the slowly loudening maniacal laughter coming from underneath.

“We don’t have any time left. Serpemon...hurry…”

“On it,” croaked the snake, as with a lurch he freed himself, his own body lacerated to all hell. Still he pushed forwards, crawling towards the great sliding gates on his front arms, swaying back and forth as he did so. The other two Elites were unravelling themselves behind him, Coremon screaming as he pulled his leg free and half skinning it in the process. Mollumon snapped another slat, willing his boneless body to move even as he coughed up blood.

Serpemon reached the gate, banging a palm against it as he tried to remain upright. His motion sounded, reverberating over the metal, then dying down as it was lost in the chaos all around.

And then another bang. Louder, closer, shaking the entire platform and causing the snake to fall to the ground.

He rolled over, pushing his back up against the gate, as he grinned up at the titanic figure before him.

“Hey there, Hasdielmon…”

The angel stared down, eyes blazing, and his wings folded further up behind him, shedding little points of light as they did so. He turned his head, looking at Coremon and Mollumon still in front of the wrecked shuttle, and then the frail body of Serpemon before him.

“This is the end for you.”

Serpemon bit his lip, his ear flaps flickering. “Nice job cornering us. Crocottamon sure is efficient. Didn’t even destroy more than half of the Spokes in his uncaring murderous rampage.” The serpent’s eyes rolled upwards towards the angel. “You must be proud.”

“Guilt Construct!”

A wave shot out from his hand, and the serpent went down, with Coremon and Mollumon following after from the shockwave. The angel held them for a second, eyes furious. Then calm once again, and he pulled his hand inwards.

Coremon pressed a palm against the silver before him, coughing up blood as he spat out the word.

“W...Why…”

He glared up, his hackles rising as he stared at the towering figure. “All you had to do was kill us. We had what you wanted. Why cause this much...devastation? This much chaos? So many innocent lives…what...what’s thepoint of this?”

“You really think killing you is all I want to do?”

With a clanging and a creaking, the skirts of the angel lowered, as he placed his massive blank face close to the Elite’s.

“Crocottamon came from your kin. Your skill, your aggression, your persistence, your disregard for the existence of other peoples. The same kin that destroyed nations without a backwards glance. Crocottamon will charge and rampage and destroy until it burns him out, and that is what the remaining nations of the world will see.”

He placed a hand to the dagger at his chest as Coremon stared spitefully up at him. “They’ll all see the dark science of the Fire Kingdom, and the damage they cause. And more accusations will come. They will come upon you and purge you as the tyrants you are, and that will quell Muspelmon’s legacy for good.”

“All this for revenge against Muspelmon? He’s already dead! You’re sacrificing your own people to-”

“These are NOT MY PEOPLE!”

Hasdielmon’s voice broke into a roaring bellow, silencing the manticore in a heartbeat. The angel straightened up, his wings spreading to their whole width and quivering in anger.

“My people had a history! They were academics, and alchemists, and sought only for understanding of starlight and faefire! There were generations; elders, and children, learning and teaching and smiling and laughing! They were my FAMILY, Coremon! And Muspelmon led his army through and burned them to the ground, to send amessage. To win apolitical struggle with the Elysian Courts! The only family I’veEVER known, taken in a heartbeat! I feel nothing for any replacements.”

He raised a palm, pressing it against his forehead as he began to laugh. “You could...have come with me, you know...held prisoner. All of you; none of you were there at the time. You could have survived behind my walls as Crocottamon tore into the Fire Kingdom itself. But you...whatgrip that place has on you...what false promises it’s polluted your minds with…”

“So we sit back while you slaughter our home?,” hissed Mollumon, holding himself upright against the shuttle. “Stooping to the same tactics as Muspelmon.”

“A zero-sum gambit. I have no illusions of coming out of this alive or in the right.” Hasdielmon turned his head to survey the smoke and the flames behind him. “But if I take Muspelmon’s legacy down with me, that will satisfy me through any punishment. Just...knowing that his torment is never-ending in whatever hell he’s ended up in.”

HAHAHAHA

The grinding laughter cut through to the bone of the three Elites, and they turned in unison, hearts sinking as they saw Crocottamon stagger forwards. Up close again they could smell the burning metal, much of it now fused to his back and turning the white flames purple. His jaw hung wide open, teeth so malformed from his constant regenerations that they blocked his muscles. And yet still he laughed, each one forced painfully through his harrowed throat.

He crouched, but Hasdielmon raised a hand, the sigyl glowing within it. And Crocottamon stopped, staring attentively. The angel lowered his head.

“The power to shape the future. Unlimited control. I can make things right.”

His eyes looked down at Serpemon, who was leaning back against the metal of the gate. “I should apologise. You’ve committed no sins, other than the sin of the blood coursing through you. You should curse your fates, for choices you made in innocence. I cannot forgive the people you serve.”

Serpemon’s jaws pulled upwards in a curved smile. “I don’t believe in fate. Choices, sure. Our choices led us here, unveiled your crimes and forced your hand. And they also brought you and Crocottamon here to us.” He blinked, his pupils narrowing. “I’m not one to thank fate for that.”

Hasdielmon paused. He held his arm out straight, the sigyl glowing brightly from his own power. “What is there to choose? You were trying to escape. It’s only poor judgement that you chose the wrong way to run.”

Mollumon leant back. “Serpemon, you nimrod; did you forget that the Southern entrance is blocked off!”

“Yeah,” added Coremon, “remember how we had to take the long way round to get here?”

Now Hasdielmon was stock still, his anger and lust for his own power subsiding to the rational part of his head screaming at him. These Elites were not stupid. For all three of them to have overlooked something like that…

The smell of burning metal hit him; growing stronger, more potent. He’d thought it was from Crocottamon, but the remnants of the debris had long since burned away, leaving only the pure white ash.

Hasdielmon looked up at the gate before him, as it shimmered, the surface turning liquid. White spots marked its surface, looking ethereal and beautiful...and letting off smoke…

Serpemon pushed forwards, rolling his shoulders. “Aiii...they took their sweet time to come to the door.”

“What have you done?”

Serpemon looked up, almost friendly with his smile. “You may have a point about Muspelmon, you know. I believe I said I had no intention on dying for the bastard. But he does have a legacy. Or at least he’s a part of it, as we all are.”

Smoke was billowing out now; from the pots in the gate, to the hinges at the edge, and at the centre of the metal a bright light was glowing. They all stared, even Crocottamon, the stimulation grabbing his attention away from the seal. Serpemon held his arms wide, a grin playing over his face.

“And whatever vices the Fire Kingdom has, they don’t abandon their own. That is a legacy I can get behind.”

Hasdielmon slammed his palm down on the ground.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

“Brought you here for trial, Hasdielmon,” said Mollumon matter-of-factly, as he folded his arms.

“If you want to destroy the Fire Kingdom so badly, then you can let them know yourself.”

“Clay Divider!”

A burst of steam and a spurt of flame pierced through the centre of the gate, right before the whole structure split apart, bending away in a volley of twisted chrome. The heatblast shot out, buffeting Serpemon as he struggled to stay upright. Hasdielmon’s hair and wings blew back, but the rest of him stayed stock still, staring at the clearing smoke, and the figures standing behind.

They moved forwards; Commanders Fornaxmon, Santelmon and Bombardimon, splaying out amidst the platform.

And behind them, taking slow, deliberate steps with the great broadsword Logi in his hands, Surtremon walked through the archway into the Spokes.

“Hasdielmon…”

He paused, widening his stance. His blazing eyes surveyed the scene only for a second, before focusing back on the angel before him.

“What are you doing to my soldiers?”

TO BE CONTINUED...