**Presently**Jaxi/Viku
We’ve been slowly creeping forward for several hours down each twist and turn in these trapped tunnels. Terriermon appears frustrated at their inability to do more than simply enjoy a slow ride upon our back. We sympathize, but we’re concerned for their, his, safety. Gender is such an odd concept for a digi. Even the human within us, Jaku, agrees that gender is odd in general. Our Jaku was always slightly outside the usual societal norms, even before the horrid events that befell them.
A part of us wells with sadness. That sadness spreads to each of our inner selves, and we struggle to maintain our center, our peace, our Zen within the Dao. We falter, and miss a clue, a trap. Whizzing of projectiles closing in from the sides are more likely to hit Terriermon than us, it takes the entire instant we have before impact, but we fall prone while fanning our wings upwards to cover Terriermon’s sides.
The pain is excruciating as the missiles tear into our wings, but they remain lodged in place, and do not carry through to skewer Terriermon. Terriermon for his part, panics worriedly for our safety and health.
Terrier quickly quips, “That was some fast acting pal, but are you okay?”
We groan an affirmative as we struggle to center ourselves once more. We shall need to endeavor to not allow emotion to overtake us from here-on out. Terriermon aids us in a way that would be a mistake for a human, or other real-worlder. He pulls the shafts free of the holes they’ve torn in our wings, allowing our texture cache the opportunity to patch up our resolution over time. It seems as good a time as any to eat.
We peek into our trans-dimensional storage silo at the barn of the digi farm, and thankfully meat a-plenty has made it within. The farm digis are incredibly kind and generous. Hopefully no more of the shadow creatures are capable of making it so far into the sky as to bother them. Hm? The silo is listing at an angle and shuddering. That’s not a good sign.
It seems the farm digimon are in danger once more, and there’s nothing we can do about it. We drop a saddened, weighted sigh and attempt a moment of silence. The moment doesn’t last long however of course. Terriermon can not stand to be silent for long after all.
Our companion grumbles about his own hunger, “I could really go for some grub, we’ve been walking around here for hours.”
Even as we’re drawing out food for the two of us from our trans-dimensional storage silo space, we cattily quip, “You mean I have been walking for hours while you’re up there my little friend. Heh. Not that we begrudge you this. We only tease. Here, have some food.”
The two of us dig in to our digital meat, filling what passes for our stomachs. After we’ve satiated ourselves, at least for the moment, we continue onwards down darkened tunnels. The light cast by our Ghostflame Waltz allows us a modicum of viewing distance, but it’s mostly very mundane stone tunnels, monotonously same in and same out, tunnel after tunnel. If this is where we’re fated to be, we’re suspicious if we’re meant to be anywhere or do anything, as this tunnel system seems to be a whole lot of nothing.
We tire of the constant march while attempting to maintain our center enough to stay within our Ghostflame Waltz whilst using our clue-sight, our hint-vision. Slumping to the side against a tunnel wall, we sink down, needing rest.
Terriermon asks, “What’s the deal partner? A digi should be able to go days without looking so pooped.”
Our catty quip comes off perhaps a bit harshly, “You try remaining aflame while scanning for clues for hours on end.”
Terriermon appears hurt to our senses, and we regret being snippy with him. We begin to apologize when Terrier cuts us off, “You’re right, sorry. I hope I don’t seem unappreciative pal. You did save me and all. It’s not like I have anywhere better to be. No home or herd to return to. Heck, I’m not even an armadillomon or ankylomon any more. I wouldn’t really fit in even if my herd were still alive.”
Terriermon struggling with the grief of his recent loss stings all the worse that we were just snippy with him. We press our apology, “We’re sorry Terriermon. We didn’t mean to be so snippy with you. We’re simply exhausted. All of us have been through quite a lot in the last day or so. Two of us have died, you’ve lost your herd and family, we’ve each been fleeing or fighting something or exerting ourselves far beyond our means. Friends?”
Terriermon flashes us a weak smile as he nods, acquiescing, “Of course, sure thing pal. Friends.”
With that, our conscience feels clearer, so we allow ourselves to drift into a fitful sleep. Uncertainty overtakes us as the three of us swirl about within our consciousness, each one’s fears melding to produce a shared nightmare.
The horde approaches from the east, beneath these darkened, horrid skies. The constant crack of thunder and crackle of lightning is almost drowned out by the deafening rumble of the approaching stampede. These ogre’ish creatures forms are somehow disjointed, unrealistic, hellish. There are horns and spikes protruding from many of them at odd places, some appear to carry torches, though those might not be torches, as yet others appear to produce a constant crackling flame within themselves visible from any open orifice.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
The horde marches to a song that recites, “Gimme fuel gimme fire gimme that which I desire.” Horrifying how catchy it is while they bring so much destruction, leaving it in their wake. We prepare as best we can, but there is no stopping this. It’s an endless swath of foes bent on destroying everything in their path. Nothing but ash and dust will remain if they’re left to their own devices however.
Terrifying though it may be, we have to make our stand to at least buy the others time. Hopefully enough of them can calm the stampede of the crowds as the populous flees together. I’m saddened that my love, My Wings isn’t here to face this with me. Mostly because she’ll be kicking herself for missing a massive battle, whether or not I survive. At least my adorably short, friendly new companion has my back. Her spells should hopefully make a dent in the encroaching forces. That just leaves me to physically hold off an approaching wall of meat while she works at destroying it. Yeah, sure, no problem.
Yeesh. Who did I piss off deep within the cosmos to end up in these situations? One planet doomed to die, three apocalypses that I’ve been warned about on this new planet, and this isn’t even one of the apocalypses I was warned about! Does that mean it doesn’t register as an existential threat? I don’t see how that could be. Whatever, let’s do this. I joked not long ago to eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow I’d die. It happens to be tomorrow, and it’s a good a day as any to die.
I rush forward into the screaming wall of meat, and unleash what hell I can with what magics I can muster, gathering every foe’s attention. My reflexes barely manage to keep me mostly from harm’s way, thankfully my equipment dulls or stops most attacks that I can’t evade in time. I launch the signal, and my new ally immediately lights me up, striking down a massive swath of foes by setting us awash in magical flame. I’m left gasping for breath on my hands and knees as the flames burn away dozens, perhaps hundreds of foes, leaving a whirlwind of ash.
Huff. That’s the one time she can do that today, unless we ruin the rest of her magic. We can’t risk it. I’m surprised how effective it was, and how much it sapped out of me to survive it. If I weren’t who I was, from where I’m from, I’d be ash mingling with that which blows away on the breeze right now. I stagger to my feet and wipe sweat from my brow. Ready for this?
Having pushed back the enemy forces a few dozen feet, I rush headlong into the fray again, further from the artillery support my ally can grant me with her spells. We’ll save her magic as long as we can. She’s our best bet at ending more of these hellish creatures, but we need an estimate of their forces first. We may have to destroy the city atop them to be rid of them all. It’s a horrendous possibility, but I know there’s no way we can defeat them all before they make it into the city. Their forces stretch back for miles beyond even my hypersensitive vision. Let’s do this.
We snort softly, and cough as motes of dust clog our nostrils from the dusty cavern’s floor. Terriermon awakens, and starts, “Hey pal, ready for more tunnels? How about some chow first? I could go for some grub, anything other than digi meat though.”
We chuckle as we tease, “Momentai Terrier, momentai. I believe there are a couple of apples in our hyper-dimensional barn silo space, if the farm digis and their island are still alright. It seems like they are, thankfully. The silo is no longer shuddering or listing.”
Terriermon rolls his eyes at our use of his word, but makes a grabby hands motion with his ears when we mention the few apples we have access to. We acquiesce, materializing the largest, juicest one for him, settling for digi meat for ourselves. Eventually we’ll either need to forage, or Terrier will have to get used to being satisfied with just digi meat.
We focus on our chi as we center ourself, seeking to remain Zen within the Dao. Luckily it becomes easier the longer we exist as a shared being within our new body. We hum our internal melody as we ignite our Ghostflame Waltz. Terrier actually sways to our internal rhythm amusingly. We flash our small friend a half smile as we spread our wings so that he can nestle atop our back once more. Perhaps if he digivolves before us, he might become large enough to carry us about. That would be a fair turnabout, wouldn’t it? We chuckle softly to ourselves.
Exhaling slowly we focus our chi into our eyes to similarly ignite and activate our hint-sight, our clue-vision. We’ll never gain skill by remaining too slow and careful. We’ve got to practice our skills at higher velocities for them to be useful should we encounter more foes. Knowing this, we heave a sigh as softly as we can while steadying ourselves.
Terrier is about to speak, but as we suddenly take off at a jog he nearly tumbles, so grips our scapula and wings to remain in position. Our jog nears a sprint as we focus harder upon the chi within our eyes, enhancing our vision further. This isn’t the key though. We realize almost too late that more chi must focus upon our cortex, our brain itself to enable us to process what we see more quickly. Catching on in the nick of time, we barely avoid triggering another trap.
We adopt a sly grin. It only took a day, and we’re already quite a bit better with our new talent. Still, it leaves much to be desired should our clues and hints be anything other than these seams and cracks. It will be perhaps a lifetime of observation before we can truly consider it mastered. We suppose that’s fine. One way or another, we have a lifetime ahead of us. Let’s just hope that it doesn’t come to an end any time soon.
We chuckle at our bitter, semi-sarcastic thoughts, almost ending up too distracted to notice light ahead of us. Almost. There’s a scent of fresh air from ahead, but something else, something that shouldn’t exist within the Digital World. The unmistakable scent of gore reaches our nostrils. There are few digimon that have any ties to blood, fewer yet that bleed. We slow our advancement to a crawl, and barely manage to shush Terrier in time as he’s about to excitedly exclaim his joy for our finding of a possible exit.
We whisper, “Danger, shhh.”
We can sense Terrier clasping his mouth with his ears. We loose our Ghostflame Waltz, letting it drop silently as we creep forth. It takes several moments, but our vision adjusts to the new brightness, and what we’re met with is shocking to say the least. In the field ahead, a massive serpent is coiled, seemingly asleep. Seemings however can be deceiving.