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Though she knew it perfectly well, Ophanimon was unprepared for just how much they resembled the warriors of old.
She said nothing of it. She was wise enough to know how pointless it would be. The humans were vessels, using the Spirits as armor and weaponry. They knew nothing of the past lives of the bodies they inhabited, yet something about them still made a deep part of her code ache, blurry feelings resurfacing despite her attempt to put them back in the darkness where they belonged.
Darkness. Despite the radiant prison all around her, everything about it was steeped in darkness. She had never resented darkness, not as a concept. Ophanimon knew enough to understand how important it was. An equal counterbalance to all-consuming light, burning and blinding in its pure form without anything to soften it. Darkness could be cruelty, yes, but also safety, security, rest. She could see all of those in that poor soul Cherubimon had snuck under her nose and tainted into an obedient soldier. With enough nudges and persistence, she had brought Darkness back to its brother’s side, someplace comfortable and safe. This was what it was meant to be.
Light was brusque, but soft and sad in a way that she knew all too well. She’d peered through the screen and watched his face crease with tiny emotions that even he didn’t understand, but told her everything she needed to know and more. Part of her desperately hoped that his resemblance to his predecessor would only go so far. How cruel it seemed, that an element whose purpose was to illuminate and guide brought about so much pain. Light brought clarity and clarity brought truth, but truth was not always a comfort.
But truth was the task she carried for them, and she gave it. They had all done well, despite the arduous tasks they’d had to overcome.
Her eyes closed behind the mask. After all this, did they still view her as some distant, holy figure? Part of her wanted them to resent her beyond repair. How had she dared task saving the world to children? These weren’t noble, hardened soldiers, these were civilians clad in the armor of dead heroes. Victims wearing the corpses of other victims.
Ophanimon was happy that they had come. Not so that she could be rescued, but that she could stand face-to-face with the horrors she had created.
“Children-” She said, because that’s what they were. Would any Digimon with their code straight think of hurling In-Training and Rookies against a Mega-level? Of course not. What made a human child any different? She had lured them in with promises and sweet words, always leaving out the caveat of turning them into her little soldier pawns.
This had never been what she’d promised their predecessors. Was there anyone in this equation that she hadn’t lied to?
They were only children. Maybe, at least, she could offer them the paltry gift of honesty. Honesty distilled down into something digestible, a horror story padded and softened into a whimsical folktale. She told them the story, the same one every parent told their offspring as a bedtime fable. A swell of uncertain emotion welled in her throat, and as the tale came to the same end everyone knew, she opened her mouth again to continue.
Ophanimon bit her tongue. It was not a story they needed to know.
What a coward she was.
++++++
She was thankful for the mask that covered her face. It gave off the impression of tranquil stoicism, polite and kind yet absolute and unshakable. It helped in the moments when she felt as far away from that as possible.
The contours of her throne still did not feel familiar to her. Part of her wondered if they ever would. Her mind still clearly recalled her rowdy days playing in village mud puddles as a young Salamon. Seeing the line between where she had been before and where she was now could be difficult to see. In moments of weakness, she doubted if it even existed.
Seraphimon, likewise, had the luxury of his helmet to hide away his face. Cherubimon had not been so lucky. He was the most tenderhearted of their trio, and he had no way to hide his emotions outside of outright suppression. He was a kind soul, a gentle being, but Ophanimon knew what that did for his reputation. Unintelligent, monstrous slaves to their own impulses and emotions, those were the same insults volleyed at the Beast-types time and time again. Even with the war long past, many still viewed a divide between the frail intellect of Human-types and the dumb brute strength of the Beasts. That had been the point of their governing trio, to finally put those absurd perceptions behind them.
“We don’t have suitable units available to send so far away.” Seraphimon gestured to the hologram hovering over the meeting table. A floating landmass sat suspended, unmoving. “The Lost Isle has fully manifested off the coast of the Steel Area, but none of the organized forces nearby have enough manpower to send.”
“We have to do something,” Cherubimon replied, desperate and exasperated. Ophanimon knew that none of them were happy at the thought of leaving an unguarded settlement to its fate. It was their job to rule based on rationality rather than personal emotions, but all of them struggled to varying degrees. Seraphimon, more often than not, was left to consider the most realistic, and often most pragmatic options, Cherubimon the most generous and altruistic, with Ophanimon attempting to find a happy, reasonable medium.
“How long would it take to summon a platoon from an adjacent country?”
“Several days, at best,” Seraphimon replied. “Most of which will likely involve negotiating with the local government, Steel Town is known for their stubborn delegation.”
Across the table, Cherubimon lifted his hands from the arms of his throne. “Could that be overruled through a draft?”
“A…a draft?” The angel balked.
“Cherubimon, are you sure that’s reasonable?” Ophanimon stepped in. “The Lost Isle needs aid, certainly, but is forcing the citizens of Steel Town to fight something justifiable?”
“There is a monster running rampant in their homeland.” Cherubimon pleaded. “Surely we can argue a special case? We can’t simply abandon-”
“Master!”
Into the angels’ meeting room scurried a fourth member. A young squire brought under Seraphimon’s wings, recently evolved and still unaccustomed to the weight of his own magic staff in his hands. He wilted under Cherubimon’s gaze, as though anticipating to be smited where he stood for interrupting. The beast merely huffed and turned away, while Seraphimon gestured for him to continue.
“What is it, Sorcermon?”
The wild gesticulations nearly knocked the hat from his head. “M-my liege, reports have arrived from the Lost Isle. The threat has already been sealed. Aid is no longer needed.”
“What?” Seraphimon replied. “How is that possible?”
He took an anxious swallow, gripping the stick of his staff.. “I think…I think it will make sense when you see. The party responsible is already here. They requested that I allow them an audience.”
The angels looked to one another, uncertain.
“If it was meant to be a display of power, then they would have no need to request an audience instead of forcing their way inside,” Cherubimon said, “wouldn’t they?”
“Coming directly from the Isle to here, that sort of distance is not something done by accident.” Added Ophanimon.
“If the one responsible was capable of such a feat, then they have certainly made a case for their power, at least.” Seraphimon nodded.
“But if they defeated the beast and left the rest of the Isle unharmed, they must be of good intentions.”
“Hmm. Ophanimon is correct. I cannot see any other reason for their behavior. At the very least, I believe we should allow them the opportunity.”
“Understood.” Seraphimon turned back to his squire. “Sorcermon, bring us to them.”
“Y-yes, master. Right away.”
++++++
Everyone knew of the radiant red armor worn by the ancient hero. But this armor was not radiant anymore.
“Great Angels,” he spoke with deep admiration, as though he were a peasant speaking to their deities and not a great savior speaking to his own replacements. “We wish to speak with you.”
The mythical warrior of fire had dimmed and weathered, cracked armor rattling with every step. His once-regal scarlet wings were tattered and torn, barely capable of flight in their new state. His proud white head-crest and horns were yellowed with age and blunted. If not for the determined shimmer in his eyes, it would have been easy to write the Digimon before them off as a mere imposter, one of many that had appeared in the years after the war.
“AncientGreymon?”
A low laugh came from the dragon’s throat. “‘Ancient?’ Has it truly been that long? The years pass so swiftly…”
“You still walk among the living?” Seraphimon asked. “No bodies were ever found at the site of Lucemon’s sealing, with enough time, everyone had believed each of the Ten Legendary Warriors had sacrificed themselves to ensure the job was done.”
Panels of armor grated against one another as his head moved in a low, slow shake. “I do not know if I am alive still. Not in the way I was before. Nonetheless, that is another matter. I thank you for your audience. We were not sure if you would be willing to speak with us.”
“But why would you-” Cherubimon paused. “‘We?’”
A taloned hand gestured to the far corner of the castle’s grand entryway. A hunched shadow had tucked itself away into it, somehow out of the angels’ sight despite its size.
“Who is that?”
“Ah. So he has weathered beyond recognition.” AncientGreymon gestured for them to approach. They did so, hesitantly. “Don’t shy away from your own element, my friend. Let them see you.”
AncientGarurumon was in an even poorer state than his compatriot. The brilliant visage of the Supreme Shining Beast had dimmed to little more than a flickering candlelight. Damaged armor and wounded, scarred flesh was near-indistinguishable, traveling every inch of his body in continuous webs. Something was bundled in his folded arms, and when Ophanimon so much as glanced at it, he shied away and kept it hidden. Behind the glare, he appeared…oddly uneasy, in a way that a warrior of his caliber should not have been.
Seraphimon looked between the two newcomers. “The Warrior of Flame, and the Warrior of Light…still defending those in need?”
“But if you two are still alive, that changes everything,” Cherubimon said. “The Warriors of Legend are no longer just a tale of the past.”
“Is that why you came here? Did you return to reclaim your place as the Digital World’s sovereign rulers?”
A wondrous prospect, and yet, Ophanimon only paid attention to AncientGarurumon’s dour, almost dismal air. “...No.” She said. “That’s not why you’re here, are you?” She looked to her companions. “They may have survived, but the others…”
Something about that was enough to prompt the Warrior of Light to lift his gaze, not directly forwards, but the closest he had come thus far.
“She is as wise as I’ve heard.”
His words were curt, detached. Not in the sense of disinterest towards the conversation, but a disinterest in everything around him. The only thing that held any of his focus was whatever he kept a death grip on across his chest. Without so much as another word, AncientGarurumon went back to his corner nook.
Cherubimon watched him go. “I had not expected Light to be an element of such…coldness.”
AncientGreymon, likewise, watched him go, but his expression was one of sympathy. “He was always the stoic one out of all of us. All my years knowing him, I have never seen him this way.” He shook his head in dismay. “His love and loyalty to his friends ran deeper than you could imagine. I’m afraid the grief has torn his soul apart, and I do not think it is something that will heal."
“‘Your friends’...” Seraphimon said. “So what is it that you’ve come here for, really?”
“Seraphimon, I believe that answer is in another question.” Replied Ophanimon. “AncientGreymon, where are the other warriors?”
The dragon nodded knowingly. “Wise indeed. The history you know is not entirely false. Our battle to defeat the great tyrant was one that came with a high cost. Garurumon and I are the only ones that survived the ordeal…and even then, we barely made it out alive. Most of the time we have spent since the war’s end was in deliberate solace, trying to allow ourselves to heal and regain some semblance of strength.”
“You seemed quite powerful in dispatching the threat on the Lost Isle,” Seraphimon said.
“Not untrue. For a moment, I could feel the passion of battle reignite my soul, the way it had been lacking for eons. But in reflecting…all I have come to realize is that such passion can never truly be rekindled in the absence of my dear allies. Do not be mistaken, angels- Garurumon may show his grief more plainly, but I, too, can hardly bear to carry the weight of that loss. I can only speak now because of what must be said. I do not bring myself before you without reason.”
“What is that reason?”
We have come with a request. Our power cannot be left to fall into the hands of those who would do harm to this world. Garurumon and I are hardly suitable to defend it ourselves. Not anymore.”
Cherubimon’s eyes widened. You wish for us to guard them for you.”
The warrior nodded. “That is correct. Guard our souls, scatter them into the wind. Let our story become nothing more than a myth. Whatever you must do to allow us to disappear. We entrust ourselves to you.”
“But how?” He asked. “What is there to guard? The two of you?”
This time, a shake of the head. “No. The other warriors.”
“But- but how-”
“We were able to collect the remnants of their data,” AncientGreymon replied. “They have become dormant. Some fragment of them lives on, but only Garurumon and I survived as we are. If they are capable of healing, it would take eons…but I doubt such a thing would even be possible. They are little more than clusters of data that we have carried upon our backs. There is still significant power contained within them, but it is too much power to risk carrying and falling into the wrong hands. We will entrust them to you.”
“...I see,” Seraphimon said simply.
“We very well can’t deny a request so important, can we?” Asked Ophanimon.
“I suppose not. These were the duties we agreed to bear.”
“We will find places for them. The Digital World is vast. I am certain there are enough nooks and crannies to where they could never be found.” Said Cherubimon.
The dragon’s sharp teeth glittered as he grinned. “Garurumon, my friend. The angels have agreed. Bring the group ‘round.”
For the first time, an air of purpose overtook him. AncientGarurumon rose with energy, hurriedly hobbling close. He looked to the angels, briefly reproachful, but AncientGreymon put a reassuring hand on his back.
“These are our friends.” The Warrior of Light said. Despite his size and the heavy armor covering every inch of his form, his voice was timid and frail, like a child’s. “You’ll…be good to them, won’t you?”
Ophanimon nodded gently. “Of course.”
He finally unfurled his arms from where they had been locked still. A menagerie of little objects was bundled in his grip. At first, even the angels struggled to see any details through the radiating light. Though dormant, it was clear AncientGreymon had been correct, the power they held was clear. These were not artifacts to be handled foolishly.
From the mass of light, AncientGarurumon pulled out a tiny statue, one adorned with an odd figure bearing colorful wings. “This…this is Irismon,” he handed it up towards the angels. As soon as one of them took it, he offered one with fins. “This is Mermaimon. They love each other. I know Iris may give you some trouble…she was always such a feisty one…but Mai keeps her in check. They’re the deepest of companions.”
Another came from the collection, deep blue. “Here. Beetlemon. He loves nothing more than making others happy. I used to despise his constant merrymaking, but despite myself, I’ve grown fond of it. Give him time, and he can make friends with anyone he encounters.”
The next one, vibrant green. “This is Wisemon. He’s very clever, but he’s also very shy. Try to tell him he’s done well frequently, he’ll worry he’s upset you.
And the next, earthy brown. “Volcamon. Always the troublemaker. But wiser than he seemed. He taught me that every strong unit needs someone to question why things are the way that they are.
Pure white. “Megatheriummon. As powerful as a rushing avalanche, yet as soft as powder snow. She never took a compromise for the things she thought were important. I always admired her passion for doing the right thing.
Pale tan. “Troiamon. I knew him for years, and yet, I never felt as though I knew him in full. But I do not think that was a bad thing. There was always more depth and wisdom to him than I had believed.”
“This…” Garurumon swallowed thickly, bringing the final, jet-black object back to his chest. “This is…”
“Sphinxmon.” Greymon finished for him.
“Brother Sphinxmon. My friend. My caretaker. For the longest of times, he was the only companion I had. I was never as kind to him as I should have been. But even then, he was willing to protect me with his life.” The great warrior began to tremble. “Please don’t be unkind to him. His element is darkness, and he may be a beast, but he possesses a soft, gentle heart. His spirit has warmed my own more times than I could possibly count. He taught me of the comfort and kindness that darkness can be.”
Ophanimon, stunned into silence, looked at the two by her sides. Seraphimon was as he always was, stoic behind an unreadable mask. Cherubimon, however, was a different story altogether. Cherubimon was a mere shadow of his noble, holy visage. His eyes welled with tears that left glittering streaks across his face.
“H-he sounds…your brother sounds like a wonderful individual. I am saddened to have not known him in the way that you do.”
His empty paw alone was nearly enough to shadow the shining beast, but Cherubimon approached with nothing but reverent gentleness. “I swear on my code, I will carry him close. I will do my best to treasure him as you have.”
It was difficult to tell, but Ophanimon could swear there was a ghost of a smile on AncientGarurumon’s face.
“I think he will be in good hands with you, noble angel. For my brother’s sake, and my own. I thank you. From the bottom of my code, I thank you.”
The final statue floated out of his grasp, and despite the shadow of joy he had held not a moment ago, when Ophanimon looked at him, there was nothing. A void.
In another lifetime, several eons away, she would know that reserved sort of sadness in something meant to be pure and illuminating. It would all make sense then, but now all she could do was desperately try to mask the fear and unease at something she knew to be holy exist before her.
AncientGreymon, on the other hand, was nothing but smiles. “Eight Legendary Warriors, safe in the hands of this world’s new protectors. I would not have had it any other way.”
“We will guard them carefully,” Seraphimon reassured.
“Thank you. I cannot thank you enough.” He nodded. “Garurumon, we should- Garurumon?”
He shuddered where he stood, shoulders rolling forward and stumbling in place. AncientGreymon hurried to his side, extending a tattered wing to try and shelter him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ah…Greymon?” He looked at his old friend with drooping, dark-ringed eyes. “I feel quite tired. I feel very tired. I think…I think I need to rest now.”
Before anyone could stop him, AncientGarurumon teetered on his feet and fell back. His code manifested from his body in spiraling rings, and by the time he hit the ground, the Warrior of Light was no more than a cluster of code and another dormant statue.
“Garurumon…” AncientGreymon picked up both. His hands trembled as he passed them to Seraphimon. “Goodnight, comrade. Sleep well. I hope, at least, that you are now at peace.”
The angels were shaken. Only Ophanimon could bring herself to speak. “But what about you, then? We can make a place for you at the castle, or we can find a place for you to live safely alone.”
His muzzle nearly scraped the floor as he shook his head. Any joy in his eyes had gone out. “I do not want to live as the last of my kind. I do not know if the other warriors will ever reawaken, but I cannot make myself wait for eons just to see nothing change. I wish to sleep, and yet…I do not know if I could force myself to.”
Seraphimon replied, “the Warrior of Light was able to, you can’t do the same?”
“Garurumon was holding on through the sheer power of his own will. Once his duty was fulfilled he could let go. I do not think I can. I am a shadow of myself, and yet I cannot depart from this world…how pathetic. Some warrior I am.”
“So what do you ask us to do, then?” Asked Cherubimon.
AncientGreymon managed to rear back on his hind limbs, balancing somewhat with his wings extended. He revealed his chestplate, riddled with cracks and missing in places.
“Take your weapons and drive them into my flesh. Wrench the data from my core. Wipe away the final traces of the old rulers and take your place as the Digital World’s guardians."
All three of them balked. “You can’t possibly ask that of us!” Cherubimon protested.
“Slaughtering the world’s savior, how could we justify such a thing?” Said Seraphimon.
The ancient beast of fire looked at them with disappointment. His gaze fell on Ophanimon. “You, wise one. You know this is how it must be. We entrust the protection of the world to you, Great Angels. Guard it with kind hands, merciful ones. Even if that mercy is not pleasant.”
“Ophanimon, you can’t possibly-”
The grip on her lance turned white-knuckled. “My job is to preserve life and love in this world.”
“Sometimes, love is an act of mercy,” AncientGreymon said.
For the first time it had in a long time, the weight of her weapon was almost too heavy to lift. “I’m…I’m so sorry.”
“Do not apologize. I asked for this. This is a mercy.”
Something snagged in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. She refused to cry. But something was squeezing her throat, and even if she weren’t holding her breath, Ophanimon was sure she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
Before she could bring the speartip down, a flash of light illuminated the hallway, accompanied by an ear-shattering crash. When she blinked again, the final member of the Ten Legendary Warriors was impaled on a bolt of lightning.
“Lightning- “ The two humans turned to their third, aghast. “Cherubimon, what have you done?!”
He was equally emotional, covering his face with his hands and weeping. “I can’t bear it. I couldn’t bear to see him suffer.”
“Thank you…”
AncientGreymon looked to the sky, eyes distant and unfocused. There was a smile on his face as he extended a hand towards nothing.
“Friends…I’m here…”
His body unraveled, just as AncientGarurumon’s had, and vanished, leaving nothing more than a lifeless figure on the floor of the castle.