“So you’re the steward?”

Caesiumon raised a hand to his head, his chubby face shimmering in a way that might have been a blush. “One of them. There’s a few of us looking after the different sectors of the Spokes, mainly focusing on the lines to the major cities. I take care of the Fire Kingdom via the Grid Central terminal.”

He looked around. “It’s good to see they’ve finally mended the blockage; I get antsy about things like that. Should be ready to reopen.”

His purple eyes twisted upwards. “Or...was there another reason you wanted me here, General Surtremon?”

The Fire General was crouched low, his armour dull as he looked up at the terminal. Masterfully built and accessible as well, even for someone of his size. He lowered his head. “I have a request. Please keep this closed off, with the formal reason being for the previous blockage. Only for a few days.”

“General, what do you need this for?”

Serpemon looked up beside him, trying to gauge the knight’s thoughts behind the great mask. He turned his head slightly. “You’re fully aware you’re going into danger, aren’t you.”

“It seems likely. Is this so we can make a quick escape?”

The snake placed his hands on his hips. “Why did you only ask for me then? Shouldn’t Mollumon and Coremon be present for this?”

“It’s not for an escape. It’s a lifeline. And I’m trusting you with it.”

Serpemon turned fully towards Surtremon, whose blazing eyes were completely upon him.

“I’ve already lost a dear friend. I want to do right by him, but I couldn’t bear it if I lost standout soldiers such as yourselves. And in all likelihood, there’s somebody within the Spokes who will be out to kill you.”

He stole a sideways glance at Caesiumon, who was stood still, no expression on his chrome face.

“Coremon’s out for justice. Mollumon will want to understand the truth. Both noble and admirable, but it could fatally distract their focus in an emergency.” He pointed with a gauntleted hand at the young serpent. “You however, will do anything it takes to get everybody home alive. Is that right?”

The snake ran his tongue over his lips. “You’ve got me. I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

“Then please promise me. If you’re in danger, if somebody comes after you or threatens you and there’s no way out...send a message to Caesiumon. I will come for you.”

“You’d invade the Spokes just to come and protect us?”

The general’s expression steeled. “I’ll do anything to protect you now.”

The snake rubbed behind his head, sharing a glance with Caesiumon. No words passed between them, but the metal man straightened up, flashing the tattoo of the Spokes rebels that was affixed to the back of his shoulder.

“Oh dear, it seems like the blockage isn’t quite fixed yet after all. I doubt it will be ready for your journey in two days.” He looked up, cheery as ever. “The next nearest terminal to you is the stop-off within the Northern Tribes. You might need to make a bit of a trek to get there though.”

He leaned in. “Between you and me though...I’d be careful around there. There’s word of mysterious happenings and disappearances around that area, similar to what’s been going on in the Spokes. Could be some trouble waiting for you.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure we can handle it. After all…”

Serpemon paused, his eyes glinting as he looked up at Surtremon.

“We’ve got the best of the Fire Kingdom protecting us.”

“General…”

Hasdielmon stared ahead, his mask showing no expression and yet radiating with shock and fury.

“You’ve entered my city without my permission. You’ve brought your warring force to my doorstep. Is this an act of aggression?”

“No, don’t listen to him, he’s-”

Coremon began to rush forwards, but with a shimmer of copper suddenly Fornaxmon was in front of him, his armoured body placed between the Elites and the angel. He turned his head slightly.

“It’s alright. You’ve done more than enough. We can handle it from here.”

“General, there’s damage in the north of the Spokes and from the direction of the capital,”said Santelmon matter-of-factly.“There appears to be a path of destruction leading to here. Signs of a pursuit, probably after the Elites.”

He turned his body, his wispy arm gesturing towards Crocottamon, who stood stunned, the power before him too much to comprehend.

“I’d make a guess that this creature has something to do with it.”

Bombardimon grunted in acknowledgement, his cannons already pointed towards Crocottamon. Fornaxmon’s engine burned audibly. “Yggdrasil’s name...what is that…”

“General!”

Hasdielmon threw his wings wide, his voice growling with utter and unrestrained fury. “Why are you here now? What are you doing here? Answer me!”

“I expect YOU to answer ME!”

The great knight’s gaze burned into him as he clenched his gauntleted hands. “I came because I received an SOS from my soldiers. Soldiers I sent here in an ambassadorial mission. Ones who, if all was as it should be, should have been under your protection, Hasdielmon. Unless of course, that was never the intention.”

He held a hand out, pointing into the distance. “And now I’m here; my soldiers under threat, destruction in the streets, and you...coming to face me yourself. Am I right in assuming that you’re behind all of this?”

Hasdielmon stood stock still, his whole body shaking. He turned sideways, his gaze falling upon the three Elites, stood in a group behind Fornaxmon.

“You...all of you...set me up…”

With an animal roar he thrust his arm forwards, the sigyl flashing magnesium white as he screamed. “Crocottamon, kill them now!”

The hyena jerked, compulsion hitting resistance for the first time as he tried to marry the conflicting calls in his head. He paused for a second even as his flames burned white. And a second was all that was needed.

“Bombardimon, get it away!”

“I’m on it.”

Mollumon’s eyes widened and he thrust a tentacle out with a yell. “No, wait, don’t touch it directly!”

“Rapid Eruption!”

Yellow flames billowed behind Bombardimon as he rushed forwards, arms wide and releasing volatile sparks. Within a second he was being driven with the force of a freight train, his visor and armour plating closed up to protect himself from the sheer force of his own power.

Crocottamon didn’t have time to comprehend what was happening before the commander struck him, charging through the air and back into the decimated building behind him. Metal splintered and the roar of the flames melded with the choked laughs of Crocottamon, and in moments they were gone, blasted towards the deserted district along.

“No, come back!,” yelled Hasdielmon, holding his wings out as he made to fly after the beast, but a glow in the corner of his vision gave him pause as he saw the great swinging blade of Surtremon.

“Dante’s Maelstrom!”

Hasdielmon brought his wings up just in time as the blast hit him, sending him spinning and careering back along the melted rail. He landed in the ruined station, as Surtremon looked down beside him.

“Santelmon, Fornaxmon, after him!”

With another burst of flame – this one white and sparking – Santelmon spiralled up into the sky, angling himself towards where his colleague had disappeared to. Fornaxmon turned, his head twisting back towards the Elites. “If you know something we don’t, follow me. We’ll need your direction.”

Already there were sounds of a brawl not a few dozen metres away, flashes and explosions rocking the damaged terminal.

Mollumon and Serpemon grabbed onto Fornaxmon’s arm, with the octopus reaching out towards Coremon. “Come on!”

“You go,” blurted out the manticore, turning back towards Surtremon.

The knight shook his head. “I can’t protect you while you’re that close.”

“You can’t protect us with the beast either. We’re stuck here, sir.”

Surtremon lowered his head, catching Coremon’s wide eyes staring up at him. “Hasdielmon has something. If I can get it back, we can stop Crocottamon properly.”

Mollumon’s eyes widened, but he pulled himself in, knocking Fornaxmon’s back. “Go, take us down there. Coremon’s coming as soon as he can.”

The golem nodded, gave a quick salute of acknowledgement to his general, before running off in a cloud of steam after the other two commanders. Surtremon widened his stance, as Coremon zipped up the gate behind him, trying to get a good look of the battlefield.

“Thanks for coming for us, General.”

Surtremon was impassive. He merely wielded the great sword Logi before him, as the rail terminal split apart once more, Hasdielmon erupting from the wreckage. His body shifted, rings spinning faster and faster as his wings were spread wide, fury in his eyes and black scorch marks over his front.

“You’ve come here looking for war…”

Surtremon stared expressionlessly. “You have the power in your hands to stop this. Don’t stand in my way needlessly.”

The angel laughed, and brought his hand up to his neck where the glowing dagger swung.

“You know, right now...you look just like your predecessor did back then.”

With a twist and a snap, he pulled at the dagger, spinning it effortlessly and brandishing it before him. The scabbard glistened, rings of light forming over his scarred hand, then up his arms, before spiralling around the entire breadth of his body. His skirts and rings spun all the more, latches breaking and locks snapping, and piece by piece they began to break apart.

“Orbital Dominion!”

The rings spun wildly around him, each one glowing with a mystical energy. His wings were splayed now, the pristine feathers poking out like razor-sharp spikes. Freed from his bindings, Hasdielmon stood on lithe legs, his feet sharp and digging into the ground, and his arms raised in a combative stance. The aura came off him in waves, shaking the very material of the Spokes around him, and digging into Surtremon and Coremon’s very souls.

Coremon stared from his vantage point, holding onto the balustrade with a grip so tight that his fingers bled. He stared at the warring angel, dagger raised and fire in his eyes.

The full breadth of his power, and his fury, brought out for a chance at bringing down his General.

And Coremon wasn’t sure if his General could win.

With a furious scream, Hasdielmon leapt forwards, arcs of light spinning away from his splintered body.

“DIE!”

Splinters of steel shot past Bombardimon’s head as he powered forwards like a flaming cannonball, his arms held before him as he held Crocottamon in his vice grip. Already the beast was struggling, his own musculature pressing out against the Commander’s own and prising the armour plating apart.

Bombardimon huffed, twisting mid-charge as he tried to glimpse before him, the whirring buildings just a blur in his sight. Trying to adjust his vision did nothing, ash already billowing in clouds around him, so all he could make out was an upcoming gap in the buildings.

“That’s gonna have to DO!”

ASSHGE

A burst of white blew out his hearing, and he twisted his head, white noise giving way to burrowing pain within his helmet. He ignored it, turning himself ninety-degrees even as Crocottamon snapped at him with the pale white eyes

AGHASSHGE

“Language!”

With a grunt and a burst of fire, Bombardimon pressed his hands above Crocottamon’s neck, slamming him into the chrome below. It peeled away behind him, pristine surfaces letting off strands of black wire, but it kept the beast still just for a moment. Bombardimon turned himself and pushed outwards, his leg thrusters making contact with a pillar at right angles.

CLANG

The two spun away, with Bombardimon managing to keep his grip for a few seconds, before throwing himself around at the last moment, tossing Crocottamon into an abandoned stall. He landed heftily, allowing his limbs to splay out as steam erupted from his rear tanks.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”

Metal tore metal as the stall split apart in front of him, and Crocottamon’s oversized head pulled out at an angle as it snapped towards the great beetle. Bombardimon huffed, and raised his hands, but a crunching sound caught his attention. Stealing a brief look down, he took in the damage within a second; flaked armour, exposed pistons and wrenched fingers tainted with white. Those same hands had grappled with titans and elementals alike; now wrangled into near scrap metal after only a few short seconds facing this creature.

“Damn…what the hell are you?”

The clattering before him refocused him immediately, as he found himself faced with Crocottamon’s charging form. His arms spun round, and he fired off pellets of explosive charge in a wide arc, but Crocottamon leapt upwards, spinning in mid-air as he opened his jaws wide.

“You son of a...”

Bombardimon dropped, his actuators snapping to full length and causing the hyena’s jaws just to graze him. But the Commander didn’t leave it there; he splayed his ruined hand against the ground and pushed upwards, spinning himself into a ball of fire. Crocottamon landed behind him, stance wide for a second, before leaping forwards again with a crunch of his own legs.

The beetle saw him, timing his spin and sending all his firepower to one crumpled fist, cracking the hyena across the face and sending him flying.

“Meteor Reckoning!”

The beetle opened all the panels on his body, releasing great swathes of projectiles as they crashed into Crocottamon broadside. For a moment he was downed, crying out into the air as the explosions pressed into him. But the longer he stayed there, the more he pushed himself up, and the more brilliant white his flames became as the energy built inside him.

ASSHEN EXPULSION

Bombardimon turned his limbs in an instant, blasting himself sideways as the white beam strafed the spot where he’d just been. He watched it arc around, the flame unstable and pulsing, but still carving chunks out of the district. And amidst the flame he could see a second one coming in, also white-flamed, but shining brighter than a star.

“Seraphic Purge!”

The beam shot up, splitting the wings apart as Santelmon formed them, but his vessel fell earthwards and released them again, forming two eagles of light that strafed the ground around Crocottamon. He stumbled, the attack spluttering to a halt, but as if in response he arched his shoulders, releasing a rain of white-hot spikes into the sky.

Santelmon spun again, the flames forming a spiral beneath him and managing to quell most of the blast. He spun all the more, looking like a top in the sky as trails of light spun around below him, glistening in a prism of colours. Crocottamon twitched, mesmerised by the sight, and not looking to his right.

“Halogen Bomb!”

Bombardimon’s attack struck true, blasting the hyena below the jaw and sending him somersaulting upwards. He landed roughly, his rear quarters snapping from his own bulk, but he didn’t even have any time to heal as Santelmon inverted himself up above.

“Antares Tornado!”

The spiralling fire was cut at the apex, and rushed downwards with a blaze of sound and wind. Santelmon’s precision was flawless; the blast struck true, impaling Crocottamon in the flank and then pulling his very body apart as the spiralling trails rushed into him within seconds.

Bombardimon stepped back, shaking his hands out as the remainder of the blast burst into stars before him. Santelmon was already next to him, his descent silent and his vessel glowing white hot.

“What are we dealing with?”

Bombardimon didn’t answer, merely raising his ruined hands. Santelmon flickered in response.

“Oh. I see.” He opened one shining eye. “Do you think that will have been enough to slow him down at least?”

hahahahahAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA

The laugh contained only pain as before them, the sparking and stuttering body of Crocottamon lunged forwards. His claws dug into the ground as he arched his back, the sintered gaping crevasse in his torso already stitching back together, the wound sealed with his own ashen emissions. He threw an arm out, and stumbled, the limb at the wrong angle to support him. A quick snap, and even that was back.

He turned to them, mouth hanging wide open and mane burning brightly with dead-white fire, making him look more lion than hyena. Bombardimon clenched his fists, chuckling mirthlessly.

“As if we should be so lucky…”

GHOOOSTLIGHT STARS

“Seraphic Purge!”

“Rapid Eruption!”

The heat and debris from the colliding blasts flew wider, reaching even as high as the upper balcony as Fornaxmon skidded to a halt. He looked down, trying to keep track of which of his fellow Commanders was firing at any given time, as Serpemon stuck his head out over his shoulder.

“Oh lummy day...that looks like chaos.”

“Get out the...way…” squirmed Mollumon, as he slid down onto the ground next to Fornaxmon. “This isn’t good. This creature – Crocottamon – drawing out a fight with him is a bad move.”

Fornaxmon gripped the rail before him. “What on earth is it? How did it get so powerful?”

Mollumon opened his mouth, then closed it, sharing a look at Serpemon, who shook his head.

“The ‘how’ isn’t important while he’s still rampaging. The long and short of it is he’s incredibly strong, smarter and more instinctual than he looks, and has no inhibitions. If he gets one good strike on you even you might be in trouble.”

Fornaxmon winced as, down below, Santelmon caught a glancing blow from one of Crocottamon’s forearms, sending him spinning away in a spiral of white flame. True to their rank, the two Commanders were managing to match him for speed and firepower. But they were still on the defensive, and Fornaxmon knew it.

He turned his head down to Mollumon. “You seem to have an understanding of its level of power. Is there anything that can kill it?”

Mollumon bit the end of his tentacle, leaving a beak mark on it.

“I couldn’t say for sure. But nothing lasts forever; not even someone as volatile as him.”

“What’s the scope, Wiggles? We try and get him to burn himself out?”

“I mean...look closely at him…”

The two Elites shared a stare at Crocottamon, as he spun wildly in the centre of the plaza, gnashing every which way. “He’s regenerating his wounds, but mainly from his limbs and sides. His head’s constantly on fire but it’s been sturdy all the way through, and given his eyes and teeth...I think he must generate all his power from there. It may be where his core is.”

“So if we break it then we stand a chance of stopping him for good?”

“I don’t know what’ll happen…”

Mollumon looked up at Fornaxmon. “That’s if you can get him to stay still enough in the first place, and he’s not going to let you do that without a fight.”

“Of course!” Serpemon planted a hand in his palm. “Coremon’s stayed back; he’s going to get the sigyl from Hasdielmon!”

“And force him to obey…”

Mollumon straightened up, his ear flaps pulling back as he gave a hard stare. “Commander, you have to keep him in place. If he escapes the district we may not catch him again until he’s ravaged this place.”

Fornaxmon nodded. “Keep him from going anywhere, but also don’t touch him and don’t let him touch us.” He let off a jet of flame. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Perhaps we can help with that.”

“Doedimon!”

Mollumon turned back to see the hooded beast beside them, with Baboongamon flanking him. “You saved us back then.”

“We have to do what we can,”said the rebel leader, holding himself awkwardly. “Even if we are hopelessly outmatched.”

Mollumon looked down, seeing the great lacerations over Doedimon’s armour. Baboongamon was at an angle behind him, and at a closer inspection Mollumon could see scalped grey marks over his left arm and both legs. Clearly even from that distance, Crocottamon’s wild attack had taken its toll.

“You shouldn’t be here. The rebels, the citizens-”

“They’re being taken care of,” interjected Baboongamon. “The Sovereignty are actually doing something useful for once.”

“So...this is all we have then…”

Mollumon rested a tentacle against his beak, letting out a sigh. “It’s for the best. And it gives you room to do anything you need to.”

Fornaxmon shrugged, aiding Serpemon and Mollumon off his shoulders as he stood looking over the wild battlefield below. “I don’t approve of getting civilians involved. But whatever you decide to do, stay out of his range.”

“Commander?”

Fornaxmon turned his head, seeing Doedimon’s concerned glowing eyes looking into his.

“I’ve put a lot of trust in your soldiers, and I have a lot of people to protect. Can you stop this thing?”

The golem let off a puff of flame, as his generator powered up audibly inside him.

“Just you watch me.”

In a single movement he bent his knees, and thrust himself forwards, clearing the gulf between the buildings and the plaza in a single jet-powered leap. The wind whistled past him as he fell, and he held his arm downwards, landing upright with an almighty boom on the metalwork below.

The plaza shook, catching Crocottamon’s attention and indicating Bombardimon and Santelmon to his presence. The beetle gave a hollow laugh. “You took your time.”

“What’s the situation?”

“We’re not in pieces yet.” Bombardimon held his hands up. “For the most part. I don’t want to drag this out though.”

Fornaxmon raised himself up, letting off jets of flame as Crocottamon’s blazing maw turned in his direction, the beast already clawing at the ground.

“Then let’s just make sure we don’t give him any time.”

He straightened up, his chest glowing white hot as Crocottamon lunged towards him, his only instinct to tear the golem to pieces.

“FURNACE BURST!”

Despite the residual white noise of distress and pain and panic around her, Hamadryamon raised her head, aware of the sounds of heavy firepower from far in the distance. She turned around, squinting across the wreckage with the little vision she had left. There, on the edge of the dome, she thought she could see flashes against the metal. Glinting of flame, and laser, and light.

“Hasdielmon…”

“Hamadryamon, help us move this.”

The voice snapped her out of her stupor, and she turned around, her vines pulling to one side as another pathway down into the catacombs opened up. Already the most active civilians and rebels were moving, taking the infirm and the injured down into the darkness below.

She moved on autopilot, her head filled with static and pain above all else. A gate here, a tunnel there. Something that had used to be a decorative archway she’d been so proud of. How much of it lost to a single day of damage now? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know.

A sharp whistle hit her in the ear again, as she laid a Jellymon over Rebellimon’s outstretched arm; a makeshift stretcher for those who needed it. Beside him, Cutemon clicked his cheeks, grinding his teeth together. “I’m gonna have my bloody work cut out for me for months…”

He noticed Hamadryamon standing beside him, and tilted his head back. “Hey you, Viney, make sure you come find me when this is all over too.” He nodded at her. “Those marks need a taking a look at.”

Hamadryamon raised a hand, holding it against the rough skin of her cheeks. “You’d...help me?”

“It’s my job to help you. Don’t mean I like you.” Cutemon shrugged his shoulders, the labcoat ruffling up around his neck. “If we don’t do what we can for each other in times like this then the whole world’s gone to shit already.”

He hopped up onto Rebellimon, and they trundled away, leaving Hamadryamon alone in the crowd once more.

She didn’t notice Muscovymon coming up behind her until he tapped her on the shoulder, and she recoiled, her vines curling around her from panic.

“Sorry. Easy, it’s only me.”

“Muscovymon...I don’t...don’t do that…”

Muscovymon looked into her mask, and the proud Sovereign he once knew as she barely remained in one piece. He sighed, and looked into the distance.

“The Fire Kingdom have entered the Spokes. They’re engaging Crocottamon. And Hasdielmon.”

The dryad’s hands curled before him. “I thought I heard them…what do we do?”

“What can we do? We’ll only cause them harm by being there.”

He looked around him, at the dead spires of the support structures in the gloom below, civilians descending below the wreckage of the capital and into the tunnels beyond. “I haven’t seen Gryllimon anywhere. The exits are opening. I’d expect her to be back by now.”

“Pardon m-me, sir?”

The two former Sovereigns turned and looked down, at a small and unassuming figure of an armoured dinosaur, tapping his blocky feet nervously. A shield-like frill poked out from his neck, and at the end of his tail, a spherical mace rolled back and forth amongst the wreckage.

“Who are you?”

“Chromon. Gryllimon asked me to find you and make sure you were safe. She’s opened as many of the exits as she can.” He lowered his head, averting his gaze. “She...w-w-won’t be coming. She said she had something urgent to take c-care of.”

“That’s not acceptable.” Muscovymon gritted his beak, turning around as his tattered cape swung behind him. “I need to find her now. We’re not losing anyone else-”

“Muscovymon!”

A hand held him by his, shaking but firm, stopping his movements. He turned, looking at Hamadryamon’s wounded face, as she shook her head.

“Please...don’t go…”

For a moment his stance was firm. Defiant.

Then his shoulders descended. He turned her hand in his, and held her close, her body feeling more fragile than ever. He looked down at Chromon, defeated, as the dinosaur turned around.

“You should get below ground. I-I-I don’t know how much the Fire Kingdom can contain the collateral.”

Muscovymon turned, stealing one last glance across the ravaged Spokes, and at the blazing battle in the distance.

Then he turned, and with Hamadryamon’s arm around his shoulder, they both descended into the catacombs.

Surtremon stepped back, holding Logi at an angle before him as a dozen glowing discs shot up his length in a vast arc. They sang as they moved through the air, each one resonating with each other and increasing their sharpness and striking power as they did so. Behind him, Coremon had to dive back as three more sliced through the terminal before him, leaving only white lines in the metal.

The General wasn’t letting them get that far; he held up the broad side of Logi and parried the next wave away in a spurt of flame, before spinning the broadsword in an arc. The movement caught Hasdielmon’s own; a crescent-kick that sent even the great knight stepping sideways. The angel leapt back, avoiding the swipe of Surtremon’s diamond tail as it went for his legs. He bent down, his eyes flashing brightly against his opponent.

“You planned this. All of this. Right from the beginning. Calvary Dagger!”

With a sharp and wild movement he leapt forwards, the sheathed blade glowing in his hand as he held it straight out. Surtremon angled himself again, holding his second hand against the flat of Logi as he caught the lunge in the centre of the blade. For a second it held, glowing like magnesium in Hasdielmon’s hand. The angel leant forwards, with venom in his hand.

“You can’t deny it, can you.”

The dagger pulsed in his hand, and Hasdielmon threw his arm wide. It looked like nothing, but the blow was real and instantaneous; Surtremon was thrown backwards by an arc of light, slamming into the wall beyond with an almighty crunch. Coremon leapt up, his eyes wide.

“GENERAL!”

“Stay down!”

Surtremon pushed himself into a standing position, holding his shoulders forwards. “Tell me I was wrong to protect my own. Look at you. Is this the welcome and hand of peace that you offer?”

“You never intended to take it in the first place. Deception. Manipulation.” Hasdielmon raised an accusatory finger as his dominion spiralled around him. “The guilt is clear enough in your eyes, and that will be your death.”

The giant knight took a breath, and held a palm up against his chest. There was a split in his breastplate; strong enough to take the attack, but the blow had run deep, cutting through layers of armour and thick hide right to his very core. Pain was a rarity for him these days, but he knew not to take his strength for granted, nor the power of the element protecting him.

“That’s an incredible strength you’re wielding there. Passed down from the masters of the high courts.”

Hasdielmon’s eyes flashed, and he thrust a barrage of discs at the night with a yell.

“Don’t you DARE speak of them! You have no right! None of you have any right!”

Surtremon stepped back, allowing the discs a glancing blow as he pulled further into the courtyard. Logi was held low, poised for an upwards swing as Hasdielmon paced before him.

“This power...life, and light, and the essence that drives Digimon kind. My ancestors earned this strength. So many years of study and meditation and perfection…” He clenched his fist. “I never stopped learning even after you took my home from me. I had to keep the practise alive, with hope that I could use it to take your own dark science and bring you to an end.” He opened his hand, the blazing insignia bright in his palm. “And even then, it wasn’t enough. I had to resort to your own ways.”

Surtremon let out a breath. “Then it’s clear to me. You never understood that power of yours at all.”

Hasdielmon twitched, his head turning towards the general’s in silence. Surtremon pushed himself up further.

“There’s a reason your power comes with such a high price. It’s not meant to be wielded in battle; not by any one person. It is for the benefit and the rights of others. As a Sovereign you should understand that.”

“...how dare you…”

Surtremon steadied himself, holding Logi low. From behind him, Coremon saw his eye flick back. Gauging where the Elite was. He took a step away, and the manticore mirrored his movements, staying out of Hasdielmon’s line of sight.

Not that the angel was paying attention to him anyway, as he planted a scarred hand over his mask, his shoulders shaking.

“How DARE you erase their legacy! My people! My history! That which your kingdom took from me for its own gain!”

Surtremon’s hands gripped around the handle of Logi. “I’m offering you a chance, Hasdielmon. Call off the attack. Let us help you as well as the Spokes.” He lowered his head. “We’re soldiers, not monsters. We can choose to end this.”

Hasdielmon laughed. Short, sharp, and furious, punctuating his reply.

“You already ended it for me long ago. My responsibility? My benefit to others? That’s going to be me dragging you down to hell WITH ME!”

His body convulsed, the dominions shooting out once again in whirring blades. Surtremon raised a gauntlet, but leapt right to parry the projectiles away from Coremon. Three of them struck him, slicing into the armour of his right arm.

The knight’s eyes flashed up, and he pulled the arm up further, holding Hasdielmon’s arm away as the angel made to bring the dagger down into his eye. Surtremon acted quickly, raising a leg and striking the angel in the midriff, sending him backwards. The knight wasn’t finished yet; he swung with the momentum, bringing Logi around in a wide arc towards the ground.

“Devouring Wisp!”

The blade sliced into metal, letting off trails of light as it did so. The knight looked up, seeing the dominions homing in once again, but his own power was already intercepting them; clouds of flame released from within Logi. They shot out in a cross pattern, striking the rings and making them veer away, as the knight’s chest glowed with his control of the element.

“Surtremon!”

The knight ducked as Hasdielmon swiped at his helm, and stepped back as the dagger came again, this time as a lunge to his shoulder. By the third strike he managed to knock the angel back once more, but Hasdielmon spread his wings in a wide feint, before leaping up and landing a brutal kick on Surtremon’s cheek.

He raised a hand, the wisp returning to his gauntlet, and swung wide towards Hasdielmon, who merely rolled with the blow. But Surtremon kept going, first his tail and then his second fist catching Hasdielmon at the end of his arc. He staggered back, holding his hands up in a cross motion. Surtremon heard the whistling, and ducked down as the orbiting projectiles slammed into his back. He winced, feeling the pain of the impact even through his thick armour. Hasdielmon’s power was something to be reckoned with, and looking at his stance and the wild fire in the angel’s eyes, it was clear it wasn’t coming back on him anytime soon.

He reached out beside him, the flames of Logi reacting to his movement, but Hasdielmon moved first, his leg swinging.

“I won’t let you!”

Surtremon avoided the blow, but it wasn’t meant for him; instead it caught Logi by the flat of the blade and sent it crashing down. Instantly the wisp dissipated, leaving the orbital projectiles to shoot towards Surtremon unimpeded from above.

“You’re mine now!”

Surtremon planted his fists together, his gauntlets glowing with bright, holy fire.

“Star of Muspell!”

The light burst outwards; a shockwave sending the projectiles far and wide, and pushing even Hasdielmon back from the sheer force of it. Surtremon’s eyes widened, and he turned just for a second, aware of the wide range of his own attack, and that Coremon was still in the area. A flash of crimson fur told him what he needed, but it was still a millisecond distraction, enough for Hasdielmon to come at him with full force once again.

“Calvary Dagger!”

“Star of Muspell!”

Blade hit barrier. Energy and energy, striking and pulling apart, striking the angel’s wings and the knight’s armour. He finally grasped Logi, and pulled it up one-handed; not enough to swing it, but enough to block the barrage of light coming down upon him. He twisted, sweeping the great blade around him as the firestorm rose to meet the fragments of light. Lights danced across the shining metal, the display iridescent and painful.

And still the angel kept coming.

The lights from the two titans clashing were lost on the next district down, the air filled with the sound of explosions and the debris of molten metal and ash. The plaza tilted, one layer of support crashing down to one side and sending Crocottamon sliding back a few feet. He looked up, snarling at the blazing form of Fornaxmon descending upon him.

“Clay Divider!”

The golem swung, his blade extended fully and glowing white hot, and he slashed at the beast’s jaw. It flopped wide, but the ash was already spewing out, eating holes in the metal at Fornaxmon’s feet. He stepped aside, seeing the grey dots on his armour from where the corrosive substance had splattered him.

“It’s going to take more than that.”

HHGAHGAHA

Crocottamon leapt, gnashing with glowing teeth even as the Commander threw him backwards. He swung again, letting off a burst of flame, but the metal gave way beneath him once more and he stumbled. When he reached for Crocottamon, the hyena was already climbing, leaping up the metallic incline with the athleticism of an ape. He paused twenty metres up, grasping the metal side-on with twisting claws as he shook his jaw back into place. Already ash was erupting from his back, forming great clouds that swung around all present. Fornaxmon looked up, unable to make out the glowing jaws through the heavy smog.

“Get him down from there!”

“Meteor Reckoning!”

“Diamond Diabolo!”

Ballistics rained down on Crocottamon, and he snarled skywards, firing waves of ash towards Bombardimon and Doedimon. They scattered in both directions, although both getting struck by the blows as they left gouges in their armaments.

But the attack had done its job; the other side of the platform gave way, crashing down to ground level and sending Crocottamon sprawling. He leapt upwards, but Fornaxmon was already there, slicing into his throat with the great clay cleaver. It rent into his flesh, but stuck halfway, the sheer muscle and flesh holding it in place.

“Damn it…”

He pulled Crocottamon closer even before he saw the glow in his throat, and landed a savage kick into his trunk, retracting his blade as he did so. The beast spun as he was thrown back, and Fornaxmon skidded back as well, caught by the whirling claws.

“Seraphic Purge!”

The white veil shot over Fornaxmon’s head, slamming into Crocottamon full force and driving him into a wall. Santelmon kept spinning, holding himself within Crocottamon’s midriff even as the beast snapped and slashed at him.

“I need someone to hold him!”

“I’m on it.”

In a flash of green and white, Doedimon had leapt down, crashing into the metal with an almighty boom. He raised his palms, the air seeming to shimmer before him, before it formed a vast panel of interlocking triangles. No...not a barrier, but a sphere, held above his head as his hood billowed from the wind.

“Geodesic Tomb!”

He threw it forwards, and Santelmon shot out again, propelled by his own flames. Crocottamon rolled forwards, but the sphere slammed into him, enveloping both him and the collapsing structure around him. It pulsed, and collapsed, sending pylons of metal and rubble crushing in around Crocottamon with a horrendous crunching sound.

Santelmon landed beside him, with Fornaxmon taking his other flank. “Thank you very much.”

“It’s the least I can do,”remarked the armoured beast, before nodding over at Santelmon. “You’re looking a little shaken.”

Santelmon shook himself, the cone of his vessel rattling worryingly. Fornaxmon stole a look, and saw the lacerations and indents all around the metal, and the bright lights showing from within the cracks in the panels.

“You need to hold back more. You’re not built for this.”

“I’ve been a Fire Soldier longer than you have, tinman. I know what I’m built for, and I’m damned if I’m holding back here.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

The awful laugh echoed out again, and Santelmon tilted himself forwards, twisting the two cylinders of his arms as his white flames flashed. “You need another opening to get in? Let me give you one.”

Before Fornaxmon or Doedimon could stop him, Santelmon shot back towards the shuddering sphere, the cylinders now spinning white hot all around him. He could see Crocottamon’s great jaws, scraping, banging against the sphere, the barrier at the verge of bursting. And then through, shattering into glass-like shards of energy as the beast fell outwards in a crumpled heap of bone and ash.

Santelmon didn’t give him a chance; he inverted himself, and stabbed downwards into the metal with the white-hot spire of his main vessel. The cylinders landed either side of him, cracks already forming over the metal and forming a ring around Crocottamon.

“Incensus Ascension!”

Pillars of fire shot up; splaying out into a network of flame, so bright that nobody looking on could see within. But they could hear it; the sounds of pure agony and writhing flesh, mixed with that same, endless, horrific giggle.

From the next level up, Baboongamon ducked and weaved, holding Serpemon and Mollumon over his stone-studded shoulders. He leapt as a spurt of flame shot out towards him, and headed down a step, growling from his throat.

“Your experiments really are sickening to watch.”

“Not my experiments, bub,” irked Serpemon, narrowing his eyes at the shuffling flames. “Very much my problem though…”

The beast leapt down, but Mollumon tapped him on the neck. “Watch it. Don’t get too close.”

“Doedimon’s down there. I’m not letting him fight on his own.”

“Doedimon’s more durable than you, as are the Commanders.” Mollumon clicked his beak. “Can you feel it? The air’s heavy with his ash.”

Serpemon looked aside at the octopus, who was pulled further inside his barrel, his skin looking dry. Even Baboongamon was slowing, his rasping growl even more pronounced. Serpemon could feel the corrosive edge to the air himself; debris melding with the deadly substance. They still had some altitude, but he dreaded to think how it was affecting the warriors down below.

He squinted, leaning over the arena. “Come on, guys, you need to end this.”

The sentiment was carried forwards as Fornaxmon took another step forwards, holding his blade out once more. The flames parted before him, showing the half-molten form of Crocottamon snapping at the air. Fornaxmon tilted upwards towards Bombardimon. “Again! Aim for the head!”

“Halogen Bomb!”

The ballistic missiles fell from above, each one landing on the creature’s shredded neck, pulling it apart all the more. Fornaxmon broke into a run, firing a concentrated blast from his visor right at the impact point, melting the flesh even more. He sped up, his arm wide as the blade glowed white hot.

“Again...once more...Clay Divi-”

NO

The hulking mass shifted before him, the entire upper body spinning, and Fornaxmon realised too late the reason for Crocottamon’s contortion, as the twisted muscles around his midriff were released, sending his entire upper body spinning in a great whirling clothesline. The beast’s fist caught him on the shoulder, buckling it as he veered sideways from his own momentum.

“Fornaxmon!”

It took the golem precious seconds to stop, such that when he turned, Crocottamon was half-emerged, his tail whipping around within the white flame and leaving swirling patterns. Fornaxmon raised his blade, then paused, seeing the flames dive inwards.

“Oh god...you’re absorbing it…”

GHOSTLIGHT STARS

The voice was changed again; growling and decisive, and following Crocottamon’s movements as he twisted, his tail swinging out like a Morningstar mace. It fired shots of white flame in a wide arc, each one detonating on impact and causing the whole plaza to shake. Fornaxmon raised his arms just in time before one shot caught him head on, the blast sending him back into the wall.

Bombardimon stumbled, raising his hands again as the fire burned inside, but something clicked uselessly as he tried to fire. He looked down, seeing his cannons wrought open by Crocottamon’s previous assault.

“SHIT!”

In a millisecond he thrust his arms aside, the metal clanging on the wall behind him, and with a flex of his legs he leapt forwards, skidding down the collapsing building and down towards the direct firing line. He landed opposite Fornaxmon, rolling each of his remaining firearms around his body. Two down completely, and none of them undamaged. He could feel the air pockets in his tanks as well, his own fuel supply far from optimal.

He wasn’t the only one who fell, as Baboongamon lost patience, dropping the two Elites beside him. “I’m going in.”

“No, wait!”

“The longer your friend doesn’t come, the longer they need to hold him down.” Baboongamon yelled, as he skidded down the debris. “If I can buy another second, that’s another second between us and death.”

He bounded sideways, using the collapsing pillars as stepping stones as the armour cracked on his vast forearms. “Mount Stone!”

It was a feeble attack, meant to create noise and distraction more than anything, as rocks clanged against the slanting metallic disc. Crocottamon twitched in the centre, the sounds and lights around him overloading his senses, even as his muscles swelled to dangerous proportions, white light visibly coursing through his veins. He barked, and bellowed, focusing his jaws wide as he focused on Fornaxmon.

ASHEN EXPULSION

“Furnace Burst!”

White light hit orange, both of them colliding in mid-air and being deflected wide. It lasted only a second, but Fornaxmon came off the worst, pushed back to one knee from the sheer exertion. Crocottamon shook his head, his jaws still aflame, and reared back to make another shot.

Suddenly, a streak of flame shot past him, causing him to stumble. Again, this one slicing into his right arm as Santelmon spun with all his might, leaving trails of holy fire over the battlefield. Crocottamon opened his mouth, when the air around him fragmented once more.

“Geodesic Tomb!”

Another direct strike, as Doedimon crouched mere metres away. His armour was splintered and his right arm still hanging uselessly, but with his left he kept his hand clenched, the barrier pressing down on Crocottamon within. Lights shot up all around, as Bombardimon, Santelmon and Fornaxmon fired with everything they had; a trifecta of flame converging on the beast in the centre. Doedimon coughed, blood spluttering on the metal before him, and he felt Baboongamon holding him upright from behind, a rock for which to brace against.

“You...shouldn’t be here…”

“Shut up. I chose to come with you. Use me.”

Doedimon huffed, and pressed back, letting Baboongamon brace his exhausted frame as he summoned all his power into maintaining the barrier, the energy within now making the surface completely opaque. Mollumon and Serpemon watched helplessly from up above, the octopus shaking his head.

“Come on...come on...why can’t you just DIE…”

HAHAHAHAHAASHEN EXPULSION

The sphere rippled, the fragments shattering once again as the blast of ash shot outwards. It superheated the air, forcing Bombardimon and Fornaxmon apart as their beams broke apart.

Crocottamon looked almost skeletal for a second, his flesh bubbling grey. But as he raised his head, his jaws still grimacing horrifically, the muscle bubbled up from that infernal core once again. No longer with any trace of anything living; just flesh, never-ending flesh and meat, a barrier and a tool rather than any semblance of sensation. And with the loss of life within his physical body, so Crocottamon lost all pain entirely.

He crouched, staring ahead. No sight in his eyes nor scent in his nostrils. But he was aware. He could sense the heat. The cores of others and the emissions they tapped into. He knew where they were.

The last image – the only image – flashed within his mind. The sigyl. Muspelmon’s command.

Kill.

Destroy.

The Fire Kingdom wills it.

That was all that he needed. Instinct took over the rest.

He leapt forwards, Bombardimon raising his hands in front of him as he rattled his cannons in a desperate attempt to reload. Already Santelmon was rushing in from the side, spinning as fast as he could as the trails of light shot out behind him.

“Antares-”

Crocottamon dived sideways, his direction and momentum changing in a second. Bombardimon only had a moment to comprehend what had happened, but Santelmon didn’t even have that. He crashed into Crocottamon’s waiting chest, the firepower sending them both skidding backwards for a second. And only that, as the beast had the commander clamped firmly in his claws.

They dug in, splitting into the metalwork of the delicate lantern as if it were foil paper. It sparked as it fell away, white flames billowing outwards.

“LET GO OF HIM! METEOR RECKONING!”

Bombardimon unloaded an entire tank’s worth of ammunition into Crocottamon, but it barely brought him to one knee. The snap of his head sideways indicated that it had caught his attention though, and he thrust his arms apart, Santelmon’s body splintering as he did so. The top half of the commander’s torch shot into Bombardimon mid-firing, sending him crashing backwards.

The beetle looked down at the shattered lantern in his arms, as wisps of white flame spiralled up his arms. “Shit...Santelmon...Santelmon, where are you?”

“Not...gone yet…”

The flames congregated, trying to spread out into wings, but sputtering out before they could get anywhere. Santelmon’s diminished form could only form spindly arms that clambered over the jagged edge, with his two dark eyes staring up at Bombardimon.

“Stop him...he’s got...the rest of me…”

“Furnace Burst!”

“Diamond Diabolo!”

Bombardimon looked up at the attacks flying into Crocottamon, but he was unmoving, crouched over the remainder of the vessel, and the trails of white flame still in his claws. He pressed down, the lantern melting as more and more energy leaked out. And as the Santelmon beside him writhed and twisted in silent agony, so the energy stopped leaking and started twisting upwards, climbing through Crocottamon’s bones, into his eyes, down his throat. He was absorbing the Commander. And as he did so, his eyes grew brighter and his teeth flickered and sparked, his own ashes reaching boiling point.

“GET...DOWN…”

Santelmon’s voice was louder than anyone had ever heard it, static and garbled but commanding. And as if in response, Crocottamon reared up, his paws now glowing white hot, and no longer even resembling hands but instead jagged spires of volatile flesh.

Already the fighters were retreating, no longer able to stop him as he descended, the spikes piercing into the ground.

COLD HORIZON

The ground splintered. The metal peeled apart, and a torrent of dead data surged outwards towards the surrounding Digimon.

Coremon could only watch, in horror mixed with intense awe, as the two giants battled before him. Every step shook the terminal, sending slates crashing and pillars tumbling. Hasdielmon was on the offensive; leaping and swinging, sending blade and disc at Surtremon again and again with arcs of light.

The general kept stepping back; less mobile, more defensive, and deflecting each new attack as it came his way. Only his eyes moved nimbly, as Coremon watched them behind the mask – darting every which way; at the ground, at Hasdielmon, at the orbitals, at him. Total awareness of everything around him.

A gap opened in Hasdielmon’s onslaught, and Surtremon rushed forwards, swinging his great sword in a wide arc. Hasdielmon saw it, jumping upwards with a crack of thunder, but Surtremon came from underneath as he opened his palm flat.

“Star of Muspell!”

The barrier shot upwards, catching Hasdielmon in the sternum and sending him higher. For a moment he hovered, the dominions hovering in space around him, lights dancing over their surfaces. Then he twisted, and his wings spread wide as the lights converged.

“Celestial Hail!”

The daggers were already falling as Surtremon shifted himself away, holding his gauntlets up to shield himself as best as he could. It wasn’t enough though; the lights sliced into the metal, shearing splinters and leaving marks of deep purple and rust red over the steel. Even as he held Logi up to try and retaliate, the angel descended, his sharp legs swinging at the knight’s head.

CRACK

Surtremon roared, turning sideways as Coremon noticed a crack running down his right horn. The general held his leg back, turning the movement into a forwards thrust as he brought his right arm round into a brutal punch. One connected, then two, buckling Hasdielmon’s own armour. But the angel leant forwards, and his wings billowed in Surtremon’s face, dazzling him momentarily with lights.

“You’re slowing, General.”

With an animal yell he turned, throwing Surtremon to one knee, before raising his hand once again.

“Orbital Dominion!”

The projectiles spun up again, and Surtremon found himself backing up, angling Logi left and right in an attempt to protect himself. Hasdielmon seethed, sending the assault further, before a flash of crimson caught his eye. He turned his head, and Surtremon turned to follow his movement. Coremon heard the whistling over his head as he dived down in a frantic attempt to save his own life.

“NO!”

The disc crashed into Surtremon’s back, as he crouched between Hasdielmon and Coremon’s demise. He looked up, his glowing eyes focusing on the terrified Elite, but another disc struck him before he could speak. Then another, slicing over a shoulder blade.

Hasdielmon clenched his fist as the projectiles kept coming down, with such ferocity and power that it sent up trails of silver and clouds of shimmering dust; enough for Coremon to move out of sight. But Surtremon was stuck, holding onto Logi’s handle with two hands as he tried to stay standing.

The barrage stopped, the dominions wheeling away as they blinked slowly, depleted of energy. Hasdielmon descended, his own lights flickering from the severity of the assault, but he walked forwards nonetheless, his voice dripping with disdain.

“I should be thankful. Such a pitiful display. That would hurt Muspelmon more than anything I could ever hope to do.”

Surtremon coughed, turning his head to glare up at Hasdielmon.

“What do you hope to achieve? Whatever Muspelmon’s crime...whatever he did...it can’t be enough to justify this massacre.”

“Don’t act so INNOCENT!”

His leg swung, cracking across Surtremon’s face and sending the knight sideways once again. He moved his arm though, Logi held downwards as fire flickered across the blade.

“Devouring Wis-”

“I won’t let you!”

No sooner had Surtremon struck the blade in the ground than Hasdielmon had come up close, his own hand curling around the knights. Only a brief spurt of flame burst out, scorching the angel’s mask. But the dominion shot to the right, cracking across Surtremon’s hand and sending Logi skidding away out of his reach.

BANG

Another strike across the knight’s face. And another, as Hasdielmon whaled on him, blade in hand and leaving gouges across the knight’s mask.

“There’s nothing to you. Without your sword, without your armies, without your fortress; you are a general of nothing.Nothing except destruction, and conquest, and taking from the innocent. You’re talking of Muspelmon’s crime? You’ve inherited it. You’ve benefited from it. Every single Digimon who fights under your flag, fights for an unjust cause. There is NOTHING you can do to remedy that, save for allow your own demise.”

A devastating knee to the throat sent Surtremon skidding back, choking and spluttering. Hasdielmon’s wings beat behind him, as he held out a flat palm towards the knight.

“And deep down, you know that, don’t you.”

He clenched his fingers, the light pulsing from his scarred palm.

“Guilt Construct!”

The shockwave was immense, and Surtremon went down, barely holding himself upright on one bent elbow. His eyes flickered beneath his battered mask, staring at the ground as his own heart wrenched at his body, spiking and flaring throughout every muscle. He couldn’t even look up to see Hasdielmon coming towards him, weapon glowing brightly in his hand.

“Calvary DAGGER!”

CRACK

“SURTREMON!”

Coremon could only shout out as he saw the general fall, hitting the ground with an immense boom. He curled, his arm falling over his face, as his mask bounced on the ground alongside him, split across the snout.

Hasdielmon stood over him, the dagger glowing white in his hand. Even through the scar tissue and dead flesh, he could feel it burning him, the energy tied to his very heart. But he ignored it. He’d become accustomed to ignoring the pain at this point.

He could see the great knight struggling before him, one shaking palm pressed against the metal floor. Hasdielmon crouched down, breathing heavily beneath his mask.

“I was right. I’m always right. And you can’t even admit it, such is your conditioning. A slave to a broken system, even right at the very top.”

He reached out, pressing his fingers against Surtremon’s shoulder as his palms glowed yet again.

“Curse him, Surtremon. Curse your predecessor. You’ve suffered because of him. Your guilt is because of him.”

“...you’ve got one thing wrong…”

A hand grabbed the angel’s, holding it firmly around the wrist. Hasdielmon’s eyes flashed, and he pulled back, but Surtremon’s grip was like iron, twisting the limb around with no effort.

The angel pulled his dagger back, but Surtremon moved first, his eyes flashing bright orange as he brought his head forwards with an immense force into Hasdielmon’s burnished mask.

CRUNCH

The angel’s eyes flickered, stunned by the intensity of the blow, but he didn’t move back. He couldn’t, still held as he was by Surtremon’s vice-like gauntlet. And as the knight pulled himself up to one knee, Hasdielmon looked down into his uncovered face. A face lined with experience, with a ragged beard, sharp cheekbones and furrowed snout, speckled with white and grey. But his eyes...Surtremon’s eyes were focused upon him. And in them, Hasdielmon saw the fires of a thousand suns, burning brighter than even his own.

“I don’t know what Muspelmon’s done. It’s my duty to pay for his sins; I agree that much. I’m passive, I’m indecisive, and I lack the strength and temerity of the generals and kings before me. But you think that’s the guilt I carry? That’s your one mistake.”

Coremon watched in awe as the knight pulled himself up onto one knee, and then to his two feet, holding Hasdielmon all the way. The angel beat his wings, trying to pull back, but Surtremon’s other hand came out towards him, grabbing his other wrist as his voice bellowed out across the terminal.

“The Fire Kingdom is not a mere force of nature. It is its people. My soldiers are me, and my duty is to them. If I hold any guilt, it’s that I allowed any harm to befall any one of them. Every soldier that falls in battle is my own failing. Always has been, and always will be. Innocent, guilty, Elite or elder; my soldiers actions are my responsibility and their lives fall down to me. My only sin is that I wasn’t here to stop you earlier. And that’s a sin I’m about to rectify right now.”

And in a single, mechanical move, he wrenched his hand upwards. And Hasdielmon’s arm buckled, twisting with a horrendous snap.

CRACK

“AAGH!”

The hand opened, twisted with the movement. And as it did so, the glowing sigyl flew out, bright orange against the silver. Surtremon’s eyes twisted back.

“Coremon!”

The Elite moved faster than he ever had before; darting out from the debris and leaping across the ground. He could see the angel’s eyes following him, and felt the whirring of the dominions as they crashed into the plaza behind him. But his eyes were already on the downed brooch, shining against the metal.

In seconds he had it once again, the warmth now horrifyingly familiar in his hand. And he was running again, not even looking back at the general and the angel.

Hasdielmon let out a cry of fury, swiping his good hand sideways as the dagger glowed white-hot. “I won’t let you!”

“Enough!”

Surtremon’s fist struck him in the cheek, sending him reeling sideways. He took the opportunity to raise his hand, the dominions rushing forwards from behind him, as Surtremon crossed his arms over his chest.

“Star of Muspell!”

“Orbital Dominion!”

The projectiles struck true, the barrage smothering the great knight as Hasdielmon swung his dagger in a wide arc. But he never made contact, as the general struck again; a devastating punch to his jaw.

With a bellow, Surtremon thrust his arms apart, a wall of flame sending the projectiles spinning. He took a step, and swung again, his third hit making contact. Hasdielmon blinked through blurring vision, seeing the General’s stance before him; fists raised, armour bruised, blood seeping out through the cracks – but his eyes still as defiant and powerful as ever.

“Come on!”

The lunge caught his other hand, the dagger flying away and embedding itself on in the metal floor. Hasdielmon had no time to do anything; he brought his hands up in a guarded position, but another bone-shattering punch just sent him back.

Step by step, blow by blow, the general forced the angel backwards. Hasdielmon tried to kick, to punch, to do anything to stop the onslaught, but powered by his element and his own physical prowess, Surtremon was relentless. And all the while the angel could feel his own grip on the battlefield loosening. Dominions fell from the sky, shattering on the metal. His dagger pulsed, far out of reach now, as he swung feebly at the knight’s face.

“Your power’s burning out, isn’t it…”

Hasdielmon summoned a burst of strength, bringing his own head forwards towards Surtremon’s snout. But the general tilted downwards, his head deflecting the blow, before raising both hands sideways and slamming them into Hasdielmon’s neck in a two-handed blow.

“I worked for this. Every day, without fail. Because I believed in what the Fire Kingdom stood for. And I wouldn’t be up here right now if I didn’t still believe. This power? There’s nothing artificial about it. This is trusted to me by my predecessors and my descendants, that I may use it to fight for the right thing. If I fail in that regard, they are to take it from me.”

He breathed out, the element pulsing in his chest as smoke billowed from his nostrils.

“But until that day comes, I will stand firm against people like you.”

“ENOUGH!” yelled Hasdielmon, holding out a shaking hand as his palm clenched. “GUILT CONSTRUCT!”

The pulse rippled outwards, engulfing the general before him. But Surtremon didn’t even flinch from the blow. He reached out, grabbing the wrist as he pulled Hasdielmon in closer.

“You’ve got no hold over me anymore.”

His knee came up, striking the angel beneath the jaw. In a last-ditch attempt, the angel opened his wings, buffeting the knight back as he took to the skies. In seconds he was out of reach, his wings holding his battered body aloft.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction, general! You’ll...you’ll fall just like the rest of them! I won’t be taken by you!”

Surtremon gritted his teeth, getting up from his crouched position. And Hasdielmon noticed too late that he now held Logi in his hand, the blade shimmering with radiant heat.

“You’re not going anywhere, Hasdielmon.”

The angel turned, calling on every last bit of strength to try and get away, even as he felt the arc of heat behind him. With the practise and grace of the dozens of generals before him, Surtremon raised the great blade, fire billowing out from his mouth as he yelled.

“Dante’s Maelstrom!”

The flames pulsed. Twisted and sharpened, forming a single, precise blade of flame that spun up towards the retreating angel. In a single, silent blow, it sliced through his left wing, the feathers burning to ash in seconds.

“AAAAAAAARGH!”

Hasdielmon didn’t even feel the pain of the impact as he crashed into the wrecked terminal below; only the singular, burning agony of the blow, tearing into every node of his body. His remaining wing was already alight, the feathers burning away even as it spasmed and jerked uselessly. Hasdielmon could only let out hoarse grunts as he lay sprawled there, reaching out towards nothing with a broken, clutched claw.

It felt like hours of the same burning agony. He became aware of the shadow passing over him, and just turned himself sideways, looking up with dead white eyes towards the tall figure of Surtremon standing over him. Logi in one hand, and shoulders rising and falling from the exertions.

“Hasdielmon, member of the Spokes Sovereignty, by the power I wield as a nation of this digital world I place you under arrest on charges of murder, war crimes, and intent of genocide. Your sovereign rights will be suspended without intervention from your peers, and as such you will be tried under Fire Kingdom jurisdiction.”

The words swam in Hasdielmon’s head, as he pulled in and out of consciousness. The pain was dulling now, taking all ability to move with it.

The general crouched down, and the pain flared up once again, as Hasdielmon found himself looking directly at the knight’s exposed face.

“Don’t disrespect my soldiers ever again.”

He let go, and Hasdielmon fell back, his mind gone white.

Serpemon opened his eyes to a monochrome world. Cold. Grey. White specks in the air and a numb static over his skin. Only a few things hinted to him that he wasn’t dead yet, namely the stinging pain in his muscles as he clung desperately onto the beam above him. And the tightening taut rubber of Mollumon as the other Elite held tightly.

“What happened…”

Serpemon pushed himself up, aware of numbing dust falling from his scales, as he looked down from their vantage point.

“That happened.”

The attack had devastated the area. Metal peeled away in layers from the epicentre of Crocottamon’s blow, the surfaces ravaged and the struts eaten away, making the whole area look like the bloom of some grotesque grey flower. Many sections of the ground had been eaten away entirely, showing the latticework within the darkness below the district. Pools of white flame remained stuck to walls, or even floated back and forth, the damage so visceral and complete that the very air had been set alight.

And there in the centre of it all; a curled, jagged ball of flesh and bone. The expulsion had been so great as to tear his entire skeleton open from inside, leaving ribs sticking out and his breastbones jutting forwards. His limbs lay sprawled beside him, immobile, and twitching with white flame. Only his skull remained recognisable, the jaws juddering and shaking, as white sparks spluttered out from his oversized throat.

Even after all that, Crocottamon was still alive.

Mollumon held himself over Serpemon, looking back and forth with wild eyes. “Where...are the others...is anyone still around?”

As if in response, a glow fired up from a pule of splintered metal and ash, and Fornaxmon burst forth, his body still spewing the forge’s flames that had beaten back the wave of desolation. He lurched forwards, holding a hand down as his furnace roared, just about staying standing as a patch of bright colour on a grey world.

He looked aside, seeing Bombardimon’s shell steaming behind a collapsed balustrade. The Commander still holding the half-vessel of Santelmon, with a wisp of white flame barely visible leaking out of it.

To the other side, a flickering geodesic dome, the fragments falling out of the air as Doedimon lay curled up in front of a barely breathing Baboongamon, the stumps of his legs smoking in the dust.

ha

The commander looked back forwards, feeling the dust eating away at his own joints. His fire burned brighter than ever, spurting out through the cracks and holes in his armour as the pistons over his back pumped into overdrive.

ha

The beast was standing before him. Bones scraping and cracking, pushing out into fragments, making him look more like he was standing on a tripod than the muscled limbs of flesh and blood. Indeed, they still hung off at poor angles, the shattered paws still twitching uselessly. But Crocottamon’s own internal fire was still strong, driving him, moving him through sheer force of will.

“Unnatural thing…”

Fornaxmon stood up straight, and took a step, then another, each one causing further blasts of smoke behind him.

“You...cannot be allowed...to exist…”

ha

The quiet laughter from within Crocottamon’s throat did nothing to stop his movements, as he lurched forwards, thrusting out wads of flesh and muscle behind him as his skull burst into flame. But Fornaxmon refused to let his momentum up, swinging his cleaver left and right, pushing him back into the centre of the wrecked arena. Each swing slower than the last, but each thrust with more power, cracking teeth and bone before him as he hacked away at the pile of flesh.

“Vulcan COMBUSTION!”

The orange flickered against the white in Baboongamon’s vision as he raised his head, seeing Fornaxmon struggling before him. Another fragment fell from the air, as he looked down, seeing Doedimon collapsed prone before him.

“Oh...no…”

The glint in the rebel leader’s eyes flickered momentarily, as if in acknowledgement to Baboongamon’s movement. Then it went out, and the dome fell away entirely, splintering away into fragments. Doedimon was gone.

“You bastard...I was supposed to...get you out the way…”

The beast rolled down onto his forearms, only one of them supporting his mighty frame right now. The pain was so intense over his body that he couldn’t even feel the stumps of his legs, or the shards in his chest. For a second he breathed heavily, blood falling from his maw. Then he looked up at the white world.

There. High above, on the rim of the fallen plaza, a flash of crimson fur.

“Even if...only...one extra second…”

Baboongamon lurched forwards, dragging himself through the dust towards Santelmon’s downed vessel.

Coremon skidded to a halt high above the battlefield, looking down with wide eyes. His heart was pumping wildly, growing in pace as he took in the extent of the damage that had occurred, and the dwindling number of figures still fighting the dead-eyed beast.

“No...no, no, no…”

He shook himself back to focus, and held out the sigyl before him, feeling the warmth pulse in his hand. But it was futile; Crocottamon couldn’t see him, so wrapped up in his mad fury was he.

“Damnit! I need to get down there!”

“Let us!”

The Elite looked up, seeing Mollumon and Serpemon swinging towards him across the damaged struts even as they collapsed behind them. Coremon let out a sigh of brief relief, flashing the sigyl in his hand.

Serpemon nodded grimly, pulling Coremon close and swinging him down the shattered debris, with Mollumon in close tow, each of them leading each other in leaps and bounds into the white abyss.

“Come on...come on…”

Fornaxmon swung again, cracking the beast’s jaw to one side, but it swung back in his face, forcing him to bring up a wall of flame in a desperate bid to block the deadly substance. The flame didn’t block the claw that came for his chest, the blow sending him backwards once again.

The golem staggered for a second, digging his heels in as the beast leapt for him. He knew if he went down in front of Crocottamon, it was over, even for someone as durable as him.

Crack. A splintering sound in one leg, and he found himself going backwards again as something failed within his body. He held his arms up against the charging monstrosity.

It stopped, jerking to a halt, and whipped its head round in a sweep of flame. Bombardimon stood there, arms smoking as they held Crocottamon’s hindquarters in a tight hold.

“Didn’t forget...about me...did you?”

Crocottamon twisted, but Bombardimon rolled, throwing the beast behind him as it shattered its makeshift limbs on the metalwork. The floor shook again, more metal plating falling away.

Bombardimon found himself holding his arms up, facing the gaping maw as flames licked around him.

“Meteo-”

The jaws sliced forwards, crunching over his hands, and shattering them in an instant. Bombardimon looked up, seeing the white flames pulsing in the back of the beast’s throat.

“Do you think that’s gonna stop me!?”

With a roar he thrust his shattered hands away, opening every vent on his shell as he lunged both stumps deep into Crocottamon’s maw, the flame already boiling within it.

“Meteor RECKONING!”

The blast rocketed outwards, white flame melding with yellow, and splitting Crocottamon’s jaws wide open from the force. Bombardimon was sent hurtling back, his body cracking against the wall as fuel leaked out from the holes in his shell and body. His eyes twitched, and he fell forwards, smoking.

“Bombardimon!”

Fornaxmon rushed forwards with a yell, firing a continous, burning stream of flame into the wound that was Crocottamon’s face, but the beast was lunging again, the white flame overtaking his own as it now covered his entire body, and Fornaxmon found himself looking up at the ghoulish visage as it loomed over him in a deadly tsunami

“Seraphic Purge!”

The sweep of white shot out from the side, sending the beast veering off course. Fornaxmon saw the phoenix-like flame arc upwards, flickering out in the sky. And looking back, he saw Baboongamon at the side of the arena, hunched over the barely-holding vessel of Santelmon.

“Thank you…”

Crocottamon landed upright, the skull turning up as white eyes blazed with neverending fury and flame and utter destruction.

And they landed on the bright crimson form of Coremon before him. Flanked by Mollumon, and Serpemon, and holding out a bright light. Brighter than the sun. Brighter than anything in his entire mind. The will of the Fire Kingdom.

“Crocottamon, STOP!” bellowed the tiny soldier, dust and tears catching in his throat.

And the monster stopped. He cocked his head. The splintered jaws rattled, trying to form shapes, as sounds gurgled out from deep within the mutilated mass of flesh.

daddy?

Coremon gritted his teeth, watching as Fornaxmon rose behind the beast, his cleaver raised high and glowing white.

“DO IT! KILL HIM NOW!”

“Clay Divider!”

The cleaver struck flesh; sparks and flame bursting out from Crocottamon’s neck. The beast jerked, the pillars of bone holding him up quivering, and then collapsing as his nerve functions were severed. Fornaxmon pressed down, his own furnace working into overdrive as he carved inwards, through sinew and bone and hardened ash as he got closer to Crocottamon’s core.

daddy

it hurts

Crocottamon’s head fell, hollow eye sockets fixed intently on Coremon as he held the shaking sigyl out. Mollumon and Serpemon were beside him, holding his arms.

why

Coremon didn’t dare look away, his teeth pressed so hard together as to make his gums bleed. Crocottamon didn’t move, even as Fornaxmon reached the very centre of his neck, the blade touching against the pulsing core. His furnace flickered, looking down through the scarred flesh at the beast’s unholy essence.

“I’m sorry.”

He slammed his arm down, ripping through the final remnants of flesh. Crocottamon’s head fell down, slamming against the ground as the jaws collapsed entirely.

Fornaxmon fell backwards, releasing great bursts of steam as ash fell from his blade. He turned his head, looking sideways at the three Elites, as they collapsed as well.

It was Mollumon who raised a tentacle. “He’s still standing…”

He was. No head, but the core still visible, flickering before them all. Faster and faster, as flames erupted from the living carcass before them. Mollumon ground his beak. “All that power...everything that was powering him, it’s gonna erupt out of there!”

The heat was rising exponentially, enough to make the ground crack beneath the monster’s feet again. And the monster was expanding; flesh and bone bubbling up and splattering liquid white flame all around. Fornaxmon pushed himself backwards, turning his head back and forth. “All that, and he’s still going?”

Coremon could only stare at the writhing mass before him; now no longer even recognisable as living, but just a conglomeration of embers and flame and molten matter. Colours shifting, flashes of orange and blue in amidst the steadily brightening white.

Serpemon let out a low, hissing breath. “That thing will take out the whole district. Or even more.” He bit his lip. “We’ll never get out of here in time.”

“You don’t...need to…”

The Elites and Fornaxmon looked aside, seeing Baboongamon hunched over, just about supporting himself on one arm. Clutched in his other, the shattered lantern, with a thin, white wisp flickering out from it. Santelmon briefly formed a face, his black eyes round and focused.

“Part of me’s...still in there...I can reel his energy in...to me...just to contain...it…”

Fornaxmon rolled over, holding himself up on a buckled hand. “Santelmon, you do that and your vessel will give out entirely. You’ll die.”

“I’m not an idiot, Fornaxmon. Stand aside.”

The golem’s body glowed. He shuffled himself back, as Baboongamon took a lumbering step towards Crocottamon’s melting core. He stole a glance at the Elites, and nodded, his bleeding jaws pulled back in a grin.

Santelmon coiled himself into a faint wraith once more, holding himself around Baboongamon’s buckled shoulders.

“It’s been an honour, Commander.”

The core split before them, roaring one last time like some great dragon. Baboongamon leapt, holding his arms out as wide as possible, and slamming his entire body into the core. His fur set alight, and his stone armour melted onto his bubbling flesh within seconds. But it was enough force, pushing himself, Crocottamon and Santelmon back towards the gaping abyss, into the depths of the district below.

The spires rang out, the glow turning dimmer, then brighter, flashing quickly.

And the entire district shook and sung, as a pillar of white flame erupted from the centre of the arena. The Elites, Fornaxmon, and Bombardimon all held their arms up before them against the intensity of the light and the energy.

But for the first time, there was no scorching heat. No pain. Only a gentle warmth, as the pillar spiralled upwards before them, dead white and grey melding with bright gold. It reached over the top of the district, spreading out momentarily like a phoenix’s wings. And for a brief second, the flame didn’t roar. It sang, crisp and clear and beautiful throughout the jangling pillars of the Spokes.

The flames ebbed away. Spiralling into little wisps up above, splitting more and more as they burnt out.

And then they were gone entirely. Only a few pinpoints of light descending around them all, silence reigning.

Minutes passed, without a word said between anyone. A shadow passed over the district, causing the Elites to look up at Surtremon’s titanic form. Bruised, beaten, missing armour, but standing tall with Hasdielmon’s unconscious body in his grasp.

“I saw the light.” The knight looked down at the commanders before him. “What happened?”

Fornaxmon rolled over onto one knee, barely able to lift himself. “General. The beast has been neutralised. The Elites are all safe. I’m injured, Bombardimon more so.”

“And Santelmon?”

The golem didn’t respond. Surtremon didn’t need him to. He looked down for a moment, at the gaping holes in the district, the ash and the still burning flame, and the broken soldiers trapped within. Then he looked out further, at the pillars of smoke from the distant districts and the capital building, the haze still heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry. We should have gotten here sooner.”

He crouched down, reaching in and helping Fornaxmon out of the broken district, then the prone body of Bombardimon, and finally the three Elites, helping them onto the relative safety of the rail terminal beside them.

“You’re all to return to the Fire Kingdom. I can organise aid and reparations but your safety comes first. Bombardimon needs immediate attention.”

“Sir?”

Surtremon crouched down, reaching down with one mighty palm.

“There’s something you need to know.”

“You can give me a report later. You’ve done more than enough; I can lead the situation from here-”

“Surtremon, this is important!”

The general paused, before slowly rising up again, holding the three Rookies in his gauntlet. He could see the withered journal in Mollumon’s arms, and the bright brooch in Coremon’s palm. The manticore swallowed.

“It’s about that creature. And...about Muspelmon.”

Coremon looked behind him, at Serpemon, and at Mollumon. Neither of them saying a word, but both of them firm in agreement. And he looked back up, his bright blue eyes almost lost in the general’s great flaming gaze. But he wasn’t backing down. Not now.

“We need to tell you everything…”

TO BE CONCLUDED...