Disclaimer: Hello, don’t sue me. I don’t own Digimon or anything remotely related to the topic except a few original characters and a certain plot idea to be implemented into this fictional depiction of history. As always, review or else I’ll torture you to death with really lame jokes about plastic army men.

Digital War:

Campaign II

“The Sovereign’s are giving us two rooms,” Cotramon explained, after having us wait for about half an hour. “Isaac and Black will be bunking together, while I’m stuck with the lord Pyromon over there.” I snarled at him momentarily in my Rookie form. My energy had run out, finally, and left me feeling a bit sore where my shoulder was injured.

During my half-hour wait, I had decided to observe the surroundings a bit more. The inside of the palace, as it turned out, was a polar opposite of the street façade. It was all brightly lit with old-fashioned torch light and decorated with earth-tones. Large corridors, certainly big enough for Dart, were all lined with odd looking stone pillars. Some of them depicted Digimon fighting each other, others just lone statues. The spaces in between them had been either filled with more, smaller works of art, or had been draped with curtains.

“That nearest one,” Tank told me offhandedly, “is Polar Isbremon. He was one of the palace honor guard before the Enemy took control here.” It was an animal Digimon, I saw as I looked closer, wrapped in a thin cloak of some sort, carrying what appeared to be a war axe. “The axe is his. All of these statues were constructed as memorials from the evil rebellion.”

I looked over my shoulder at Tank to see him smiling broadly. The BlackWarGreymon put a monstrous claw on my un-injured shoulder and urged me forward. “Come on, lad. You had better get yourself cleaned off there. That scrape you had with Devidramon left you kind of earthen yourself.”

I nodded and tore my eyes away from the statues. Isaac dropped back beside us, leaving Cotramon there in the lead alone. He didn’t speak though, which I counted as a blessing. The last thing I wanted to hear was him babbling on like the tourist he was. The silence continued for a long while as we trudged along through the relatively empty corridors. It was a little oppressing, to say the least.

Once and a while a small Digimon would pass by us and nod a good morning, or growl something in its own language. Or, at least, I thought it was a language. Sometimes the Digimon would stop, though, and like the passers by outside they would stare at me.

Another was coming quickly upon us, now. It was a short, squat little monster that looked something like a yellow dragon. Its head was bulbous and its body was just as large as its head, leaving me to wonder how its thin legs could support the monster so well. As it passed it nodded an awestruck good morning to me bowed its head with a toothy grin printed on its muzzle.

“Morning,” I said tersely. I had no desire at all to be a hero to these people. Moreover, I had no desire to even be near them. So far I had had nothing but trouble with the Digimon, starting with the searing pain in my shoulder.

The yellow Digimon had turned and started walking with us now; probably thinking I would talk to him more. “Sir,” it said questioningly, “is it—”

“You should go attend to your tasks,” Cotramon told it before I could snap out an answer. “It’s true. He’s the grandson of Drake-Angemon.” The monster nodded happily and bounced off. I caught a glimpse of Cotramon, grinning as it skipped around a bend in the hall. “You are quite a hero,” he told me.

“Ironic that I’m the son of the guy you all hate so much, isn’t it?” I asked, my paws tapping against the marble floor panels. Those stupid paws again… why did I keep coming back to them? “A demon-child,” I said sourly.

“Like Dart told you, it doesn’t matter where you came from.” Isaac, from beside me, sighed leisurely as he said it. “It only matters what you do with your life, and what kind of legacy you leave for those people that come after you.”

“Bah. Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to deal with all this.” No, he didn’t understand. He probably doesn’t care to anyway, I thought to myself bitterly. “You don’t have the worry about your family shooting at you.”

A little while later I was working on regaining some motion of my shoulder. Cotramon and I were alone in what could be called the mother of all hotel rooms, waiting on the Sovereigns. They had wanted a chance to converse on some matter or another before seeing me and testing me. So, to occupy the time, the green one started teaching me some physical exercises to increase the range of motion in my bad shoulder and flexibility in the rest of my body.

“Lift up,” he ordered calmly. I lifted my forepaws, lying on my back. The pain in my bad shoulder was warning me to stop straining. “Don’t lower your paws down, Eli,” Cotramon said for the umpteenth time. “No pain, no gain. Now, start the circling motions again. Start small and work your way to larger circles.”

He sounded like a flaming yoga instructor now. But at least he was on his back too. That was one thing that could be said for Cotramon—that he wouldn’t let you go through something alone. Briefly I had to wonder how he could stand to be around me. I looked at him questioningly, his blue eyes staring ponderously back at me.

“I owe you,” he said quietly, as if sensing my thoughts. “I made the mistake the Sovereigns made, and had sentenced you to a death that you did not deserve. For that, I have to atone.”

“So you’re here to assuage your guilt?” I asked, continuing the physical therapy. I turned my head back to the ceiling and starting pushing at air. “Not for anything else, I mean? Or did you want to see what happened to me?”

“I don’t know, really,” he replied quietly. Something odd was in his voice, like he was squinting to see through a thick fog. “I just think there’s something about you. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something I need to see.” He turned to me and rolled onto his side to begin other exercises. “That and I think we could be good friends.”

I rolled to my side as well. “I’m not too sure about all that ‘something about you’ junk,” I told him bluntly. Maybe he really did think that being my partner was a good thing. After all, he pledged himself to the job—at least until a suitable replacement was found. “But if I’m stuck here, like this—” I gestured to my quadruped body— “I could have done worse for a partner.”

“Same here.”

Someone rapped at the door suddenly. The knocking echoed off the far-off walls of the room the room and the door gave way to a dark, hulking figure. Black stepped through, followed shortly by Isaac who had been given a chance to bathe and change cloths. They both seemed to be in a good mood now that we were all somewhat rested.

“Good news,” the Tank pronounced as if the entire world were his audience. “The Sovereigns have announced that they are ready to see you, Eli. They request our presence immediately in the council chambers to begin testing.”

That was that, at least. Now it was time to see who wanted me dead in the first place. Azulongmon, his name was. And of course there would be the other name I had heard, Zhuqiaomon. While the names sounded big and powerful, nothing could have prepared me for the faces behind those names.

Obviously they were not just figureheads.

Azulongmon appeared to me to be the embodiment of all oriental dragons there had ever been. Several orbs were strung around his neck like blue pearls, only adding to the shimmer of gleaming, silver scales. The eyes were somewhat dark, however, behind his faceplate, brooding as I entered the room between Isaac and Cotramon.

The only reason I knew it was Azulongmon was because I recognized the voice instantly when he spoke. “You are the son of the enemy, the Black Diamond,” he asked, voice booming. “Speak,” he ordered.

I was finding it difficult to look at him. There were other people here besides Azulongmon. None of them spoke, though, leaving me to guess which one was Zhuqiaomon. Some of them were other dragons, one looking like a yellow version of the Tank, another like an armor plated sea dragon. The others were various assortments of creatures ranging from metal wolves to giant white tigers, to a double-headed turtle and a phoenix hovering by the back wall.

Finally I found my voice though, and threw all the venom I could into my voice. “Yeah, and you’re the one who wants me dead,” I spat, feeling the dragon’s eyes boring into me. “Tell me why I should even be here when you sent an assassin after me for no reason?”

“Because you are the Enemy’s offspring,” Azulongmon growled. It was the first time I noticed the aura around him—it was beginning to grow more luminescent. “You defy Pyromon’s honor by having that form, and make vain all his sacrifices. As far as I can see you are nothing but a worm needing be destroyed. Lightning—”

“Hold!” A burst of red fire halted Azulongmon in mid attack, the bluish lightning fading from around him. “I demand that he be tested,” the phoenix shouted, diving to intercept Azulongmon. “He may disrespect you, Azulongmon, but his anger is justified. We have no right to sentence him without a trial, nor is it our place to say whether he is the Chosen one without testing him.”

So that was Zhuqiaomon? My earlier dream came back to mind, with Pyromon giving me his instructions. The phoenix, more intimidating than even Devidramon’s breath, was on my side it seemed like.

One of the other monsters spoke up. “I agree with Zhuqiaomon,” he said. “As the Sovereign over Valhalla, I will not let harm come to him until whatever crimes he has been charged of are proven.”

“He defies the Sovereignty,” Azulongmon said sharply. “That is reason enough to execute him. And letting him near our palace and through the gate will give information to the Enemy himself! I have it from the assassin that he even consulted with the Enemy before arriving!”

Zhuqiaomon glared daggers at me, growling slightly. “Is this true? Did you consult with the Enemy?”

A wise man once said that honesty was the best policy. Under any normal circumstances, I would have said that that man was a lunatic. However, when faced with a phoenix the size of a house, there is not much choice between honesty and dishonesty. I had the feeling that he would be able to tell if I were lying.

“I talked to him, yes.” Zhuqiaomon’s eyes grew almost as dark as Azulongmon’s. “But,” I amended, “I dislike him just as much as the rest of you. He sort of snuck in the back way and I didn’t know he was there until he actually said something.”

I could feel the oppression now, the tense looks I was getting from the assembly. The seven of them, four of then with auras (I think they were the Sovereigns) and three lesser Digimon, were pondering.

“I didn’t want this,” I said, breaking the silence with a piercing bark. All of the attention was on me again, having shifted to Azulongmon and Zhuqiaomon before. It was now or never to try and defend myself. “I just wanted my headache to stop. And what happens instead? I get this!

“This stupid body and a literal pain in the neck are just a few of the troubles I’ve had. I didn’t want to be some sort of demonic hybrid; I just wanted to get my homework in on time for a change! And you—ya knuckle-headed moron—just had to ruin that for me didn’t you?”

“Then go home,” Azulongmon told me, his voice icy and his face plate only inches from the tip of my muzzle. “If you really have no desire to be apart of this, then go home.”

Cotramon sighed from beside me, and took a step forward. He bowed properly and growled a formal greeting. “Beg pardon, Sovereign, but he can’t go back to his home. My I remind the Sovereignty that his human father attacked him.” The assembly lit ablaze with whispers.

The tiger-Sovereign snorted once. “He was attacked, you say? We were never told of this incident by Azulongmon. By what provocation was the hybrid attacked, servant Cotramon?”

The green one didn’t answer right away with words. I knew what he was thinking though, not only by his face, but because I had personally heard him call for medical aide prior to boarding Dart. Azulongmon had kept it from them all.

Cotramon shook his head and looked at his feet. “There was no provocation. He went to his home to inform his human parents that he would be leaving for a while. When they saw him—” He didn’t finish. Somehow, Cotramon had tapped into an emotional reservoir that mirrored my own feelings on the matter.

I felt a hand on one shoulder, and a claw on the other. “They attacked me. They took a shot at Isaac too,” I explained, nodding toward Isaac. However much I disliked him, it was good to feel his hand there with me for support. “That was when I was injured, trying to get him out of the way. Cotramon called for medical aid before we boarded Dart, the Imperialdramon.”

The room fell to silence as the attention slipped from me to the dragon-Sovereign. Azulongmon backed away from me to his prior position hovering above the council chambers, near the rafters. The turtle shook one of his heads, sighing with the other. “He’s no enemy,” it said with a slight Irish brogue. “I dare say he’s a might young Digimon, fit to serve the old Emperors.”

“Unlike someone else here,” Zhuqiaomon nodded his beak toward Azulongmon, “he acted honorably and honestly, saving the life of this young human who stands as his Tamer…” He trailed off, still looking in Azulongmon’s direction, but not at him. With a short sigh, he looked out at the rest of the room.

The yellow version of Tank stepped forward from the side wall where he was standing near another carved statue. “I move among the Lords of the lower plains that Azulongmon be removed from the testing process, to assure that the hybrid be given his fair chance.”

The sea dragon poked his head up as well. “I second WarGreymon’s motion of dismissal. And I move among the Lords that, if by chance he fails, he be given shelter here as one of our own kind.” There was a chorus of murmurs and agreement among the others. “Then it is settled, the hybrid will remain here as a citizen of the Digital World, regardless of the outcome of his testing.”

Remain here? I’m not one of them though. I’m human! “What if I want to go back to Earth?” I asked, hesitantly. “I’m human, not a Digimon…”

“You were rejected,” Zhuqiaomon said to me, more gently than I thought possible of him. “Because of that, you cannot go back to your home. Cotramon will give you shelter and will give you a life among us… And as for you, human, you are welcome as well.”

“Then it’s settled,” Cotramon said briskly. “You’re staying.”

“Good! Testing will begin immediately!”

I glanced back at Isaac, who was smiling broadly. What was he smiling about? Was it the fact that I had just been forced to forsake my home for this place or the fact that he had the option as well? Or did he just like the idea of missing out on more school? Actually, I rather liked that idea as well.

Don’t forget, my son, to speak to Zhuqiaomon.

Right. There was still that too. Slightly more annoying than seeing Isaac grinning was the fact that I had a dead guy echoing in my mind telling me that I needed to talk to a super-Digimon that had a better chance of getting beaten by a rookie than believing my story. Life really wasn’t all that fair, most of the time.

I tried the formal approach this time. “Sovereign Zhuqiaomon?” I said, trying to imitate Cotramon’s bow. He turned back toward me, having been on his way out, and answered with a simple exclamation. “My I have a word with you, Sovereign? In private?”

To my surprise he actually agreed to it and ordered the room be cleared of everyone but the two of us. Azulongmon protested but was cut off sharply by a harmless burst of flames from Zhuqiaomon’s aura.

“What is it, hybrid?” he asked, once the chamber was empty. It was really empty. Such a crowded space had been transformed into a cavernous sphere of emptiness with only the removal of a few large monsters. And to make me feel smaller, perhaps, Zhuqiaomon hovered in front of me with his four wings absolutely still as stone.

“Cotramon had to take out a bullet from my shoulder,” I started, nervously. Why was I doing this? For a dead Digimon who had all but abandoned me? “When he put me under, I had a dream of some sort—about my father.”

“The Enemy,” he asked, carefully weighing the implications.

“No, Pyromon,” I replied. “He said that he was my father as well, and that that was the reason I had this form. And he told me to ask you to test to see if it were true.” I stared at the ground, wondering if I sounded as stupid as I thought I did. There was no way that the Sovereign would believe it.

“DNA testing is not standard among the testing,” he said after a moment of thought. “But if you are correct, then there may be other ramifications then just your ability to pass the tests.”

“Like what?”

“That is for another time, hyb—”

“My name is Eli, Sovereign.” He considered it a moment and corrected himself. “What is involved with this testing, though?”

“You will see.”