**Presently** Jaxi/Viku

Leaping up to the farm, it's easy to see the cause of the eerie silence. Nyaromon and several farm digis are cowering under a tarp as sightless shadow-monstrosities flail about. They're little more than collections of arms as if peeking out of, and comprised of shadows. Still, They are terrifying, and where they pass, grass wilts. There are only two as far as we can tell.

We still our heart, our mind, we seek inner peace as we reach out with our chi. We connect, we are part of the Dao, moreover, it answers us, no, these are not part of the natural order. They are not a balance of discord and harmony. They are creations bred of chaos to sew chaos. Ending them is appropriate. Our chi envelopes our tail, talons, and teeth. The most minuscule sound escapes, as of the ignition of a tiny spark growing into a flame. We close our eyes as we prepare our assault, and the shadow monstrosities converge on us.

They're supernaturally quick, and their motions are sickening, uncanny. We take to the sky with a mighty leap, somersault, and leap off of the sky itself back towards the ground. As we plunge towards the creatures, we bare our fangs as our tail comes to bear. Despite our protective chi, and its anti-chaos properties, the shadow beasts seem virtually unfazed by our attack, worse, as we pass through their ethereal, intangible form, they grip at and claw at us. Our chi protects our data, but we're left woozy, disoriented, and trapped in utter blackness.

We lash out, gnashing, sprinting, slashing, chomping, thrusting. All to seemingly no avail. If our attacks are having any effect, our progress is not evident. The only sensations we have are the ground beneath our feet, and an eerie howling whistle upon the wind. Those, and the frightened whimpers of the low-stage farm digis huddled nearby with Nyaromon at their fore. Despite the sickening nature of being engulfed by the creature, we are largely unharmed thanks to our layered chi.

This body is one that none of the three of us are familiar with, we don't know its full capabilities. We continue to sprint , trying to find an edge to this darkness, to escape these shadow creatures, but do not, can not. Until our front foot finds no purchase, and we go hurtling off the farm island, plummeting towards the digiscape below. Well this is an unpleasant repeat occurrence. We refuse to give in, to simply let gravity have its way with us, to let it terminate us with fatal velocity towards a deadly derezzing impact.

We can manage one leap on the sky itself, so we execute a leap against air solidified by our chi, back towards the floating island of the farm. We had reacted too slowly, and our arms are too short. The lip of the island passes just beyond our grasp. One shadow tumbles over the edge in its pursuit of us, the other patrols the center of the island, but we're falling once more.

We glance back at our dorsal fin that seems like fused, vestigial wings. Sending chi along and through it, we are correct, it is, they are. We fill the center with chi, shoving outwards, painfully stretching the fused fin into the wings that it should be. Far too long a moment passes before our body relents. We emit a dull glow as our resolution changes to accommodate the new limbs. They extend in length and width, they orient further towards their own scapular muscle groupings.

The data passes along our mind, the joy of flight, its intricacies, the muscles join our senses as naturally as can be. We're suddenly familiar with them, pumping our wings automatically in a sort of test, before we raise one while lowering the other. This sends us into a corkscrew dive, increasing our downward velocity as we correct, taking that speed and swooping in order to return from whence we fell. During our flight, we have time to further contemplate our form. This body of ours holds more secrets not yet unlocked. They require knowledge and effort to obtain. Growing in strength will not simply be fighting and building data through combat experience. We can become stronger through wisdom, patience, tenacity.

Feeling connected with the wind, our mind alights upon a new application of chi, of powers native to this body, natural in all senses of the word. We crest the lip of the floating island, and soar even higher yet. Drawing in a massive lungful of air, we once again shift our wing positions to engage a spinning dive.

We shout, "Corkscrew Tornado!"

The effort is obvious, and immediate. Blasting forth from our shout, and our wings is a visible green coalescence of chi, spinning as a vortex. Launched towards the shadow foe, it seems at first to do almost nothing, until it connects, and transfers all of its spin to its target, violently launching the shadow outward, off the island. The assembled digis whimper in fear for a few moments more as we land, until they realize the shadows are gone. Now that they've realized, they whoop and cheer.

Nyaro rushes to greet us first, exclaiming, “When you dived into them the first time, I thought you were finished! Nothing seemed to happen except them rumbling and expanding. I thought they ate you and your data made them bigger. I had no idea you jumped off the island to fly up.”

We cattily respond, “Ri-ight, jumped off.” Let’s not disillusion our new friend as to our competence. No need to tell them we stumbled off the edge while blinded, and had no idea we could fly until it was necessary.

We ask, “Is there anything around we could use to carry provisions? Supplies? Could we take some meat for the road?”

Various farm digis respond in negatives and positives, a jumbled mess of answers as they talk over one another. An Elecmon drags an object towards us, it looks like a mixture of a hydraulic press, and some sort of laser emitter array.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Elecmon orders, “Put a digit, or limb, that you won’t lose, in here. We’ll clear out a section of silo for you, and fill it with a bit of meat. You’ll be able to access that region digitally, as long as you maintain resolution. So, uh, just don’t die, yeah?”

Baffled, we comply, figuring our face Is a limb we’re unlikely to lose while somehow surviving. We stick our snout into the midst of the array, and we could swear Elecmon grimaces as he engages the machine. As we’d guessed, it’s a combination of the two devices, it presses down upon us, and etches a stamp into our snout with fiery-hot lasers. Yowch! No wonder Elecmon made that expression.

Hm, we were a tad foolish in this, now we can’t even see what the etching looks like. At least until we find a mirror. Still, what a magnificent gift. We express our gratitude, “Thank you so much. We have no idea where we’re headed, or what awaits us, but this is sure to be invaluable. May you find Zen.”

Elecmon scratches his head at our mention of Zen, but shrugs as he orders several smaller digis to follow him into the silo, to begin its preparation. We wonder just how this connection works. Do we physically reach into our snout? If that’s the case, we’re going to need help, or a new stamp. Our arms are too short.

We instead attempt to visualize a silo, and its contents. In moments we can see silhouettes of the farm digis scurrying about inside the digital space allocated to us. Experimentally, we focus intently on a piece of meat as one is being set in our space.

*”Pop”*

The hunk of meat appears directly in front of us, displacing air as it does. We dig-in to the morsel, and it vanishes in an instant. We’d best see if our friend was able to eat before the shadow creatures arrived.

Turning to Nyaromon, we ask, “Have you eaten yet? Should we withdraw more for you?”

Nyaromon appears uncomfortable as they remain unusually quiet, nodding in answer to our first question, shaking their head to the second. Focusing our chi into our eyes, it appears Nyaromon is virtually overflowing with data, much like we had been. We did have to compress them twice in order to save them after all. Still, such a swirl of data, emotions, so many involving fear and grief.

We’re about to suggest searching for a method of digivolution, when Nyaromon is surrounded by the greater data of the digiverse, the chi of the Digital World itself. Their form glows, elongates. We expect Nyaromon to return to Ankylomon, or Armadillomon form at least, instead, a Terriermon now stands before us.

To say our face wears an expression of surprise is an understatement. Firstly, Nyaro is now in a separate digivolution line, secondly, that digivolution line is tied to wind, and can even produce an attack incredibly similar to our Corkscrew Tornado. As we attempt to metaphorically remove our jaw from the floor, we greet our new, new friend.

We extend our salutations, “Hello Terriermon. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” A surprise, but a pleasure nonetheless.

Terriermon chuckles in an adorably high tone as they reply, “Right back atcha! Hehe, momentai pal, momentai.” Their voice has a youthful exuberance, a joyous pitch, uniquely theirs.

We’re uncertain if this is usual behavior for our new friend, as we hadn’t known Ankylo, Armadillo, or Nyaro for all that long. Nor have we met anyone that de-digivolved, who proceeded up a different path. Their cheerfulness isn’t unpleasant, far from it, simply surprising, as everything else about them has been in this last short while.

As we’re about to ask another question, Terriermon skips off towards the edge of the island, and does a spinning leap towards the steps below. Terriermon calls back, “Best get a move-on partner!”

We beg our leave of the farm digis as we take off after our friend. Upon being reunited with Piximon, we spy a curious sight at a vast distance. Something akin to a comet rocketing towards the Digital World below. It’s tiny, an infinitesimal speck of darkness surrounded by waves of heat, against the vast sky. Still, it feels quite familiar somehow. Perhaps our own brush with plummeting towards the land below, twice in a short period. Further, I’d almost swear the figures appear leather-clad. A number of digis have exteriors that appear like black leather, Devidramon for example. Perhaps it is one of them, simply in a dive.

Terrier tries to cheer up the morose Piximon, our ally whose worry rises by the moment as the portal’s opening hour draws near. Worse, with no sign of their Piximon friends. After a seeming failure at brightening Piximon’s mood, the three of us all sit in silent gloom for a period.

There’s no sign of allies, reinforcements, or friends showing up. We gulp, the implication clear, as the obelisk rumbles, splitting open. It reveals a stony staircase downwards into the heart of the island. No other has shown up, so Piximon flits lamely, sadly along behind us, ushering us down the staircase. It’s an odd juxtaposition to travel down, magnificent, rune-engraved marble stairs, situated down a rough-hewn brown stone tunnel. The downward tunnel forks sharply left, twice, at small landings.

Before all that much longer, we’re at an almost identical pillar to the one above-ground, before it had split. Its circular dais is more intricate though, the gold mesh engraved through a large blue circle is reminiscent of an antique globe. As we approach, the amethyst engravings upon the slate-gray obelisk itself appear to glow, as we’re once more treated to a rumble. This obelisk splits into five parts that travel outward, equidistant, they slide along the gold engravings. What’s more, the blue circle and its gold paths shift and change position as the obelisks journey towards its edge.

When the five obelisk sections complete their journey to the edge of a circle, a static hum hits the air, and is quickly replaced by a crackle. As some digital magic is being worked, the crackle grows in intensity until its crescendo ends with a resounding crash, as of thunder from a nearby lightning-strike. What begins to coalesce visually appears at first to be dark blue wisps of vapor, soft-clouds that are both mirror-like, and yet contain vast galaxies within them, beyond them. These clouds swirl and darken as they expand, their edges lightening to a shimmery silver and white.

Their swirl begins to take shape, a final form. It’s oblong, round. It’s somehow two dimensional in three dimensional space. An oval drawn on nothing, the canvas is reality itself. Yet it remains animate, crackling around the edges, remaining a swirl in motion the entire time. Still, the oval is easily large enough for many Digimon to pass through simultaneously.

Piximon ushers us onwards as we gawp in awe. Right, it stays open for only a brief while. Terriermon’s enormous ears swirl for a moment, tangling themselves up, then untangling and settling themselves back down alongside their head. Terrier then grips our right forelimb with their ear nervously. We gladly cling to our new friend as we step through the portal to the unknown. Piximon is right behind us, following us in as we hear loud noises from above, but it’s too late for any of the three of us to turn back. The portal determines where we need to be.