This is set in a floating verse, in Duskmon's POV. One of those good vs. evil fics. Been swimming in my head for awhile, so...yeah.
He had a certain reputation thanks to his spirit and personality (or lack thereof). Funny then, that the only one he had ever killed was a member of his own team, even when there had been the chance for much more.
Ironic wasn't it? The tainted, so called 'evil' warrior of darkness. And with only one death toll to my name...while those supposedly on the side of 'light' and good' had far more to their own.
The first time I had stepped out into the open was the time I had first fought the other warriors. Before that was simply the darker corridors and chasms of Cherubimon's castle and the empty expanse I could see beyond. Knowledge existed, but nothing else. There was no connection, whether that be bonds between the others of Cherubimon's warriors and myself, or the place, or the information that lay within a finger's reach. Knowledge was knowledge, empty when useless and without experience to convoy it.
But when there is no emotion to back instinct, knowledge is what fills the hole. So despite never having set foot on a battlefield, I could fight. Watching, processing...already knowing; that was all that had been necessary. Practice only mattered to eradicate old flaws...but there are none on an empty slate filled only with necessary information.
That's a lie really. Emotions cannot not exist. They influence decision even when we ourselves are not aware of it.
Maybe that's why I killed Arbomon. He was useless without a beast spirit. A liability. Just in the way.
He wasn't even alive. Not truly. Simply a creation from the spirit of wood. That wasn't destroyed. Just scanned.
It was basically just shattering wood. Not that I had ever done that before either.
But if I had thought about why it was so then, perhaps things would have turned out differently.
It's the same everywhere. Fear is all over. Was it being at others' mercy? Or being useless?
Something about that struck a distant chord.
But I was the warrior of darkness. I had no emotion. I had no humanity.
Or so I was meant to believe. But as I have already stated, that's a lie.
Moving on, our first encounter. Six legendary warriors locked in a relatively one-sided battle. One fool, four followers...and yet I seek revenge before the easier targets. And fail.
Revenge is such a human thing. Rationale dictates the easier targets. Two rookies hiding in the trees. Four warriors still recovering from the release of their attacks.
And yet I chose the one who could have fought back. Fair and perfectly honourable...that's another 'strike' against evil. Evil was partially defined in acts of immorality.
And then there were all our later encounters. Something always holding me back. Two rookie digimon and a crowd of human children...and I ignore them in favour of the one who plagues my mind. An injured boy, easily beaten, and I leave him alone; I even go as far as to shield him from Ranamon and Mercurymon. And I could not justify those actions to myself save its dues to the answers I sought.
Then when I had the chance to kill him, fairly gained I may add, something still stopped me. Mercy, those humans call it.
Ironic...when the face of evil shows mercy and that of light does not. Because the warrior of light had seemed to have no qualms of blasting my head into oblivion...if he hadn't been stopped by Cherubimon.
And then there was Velgemon. Devourer of the Dead. Exactly what did I devour in that giant vulture form anyway? Humanity? That returned in the blink of an eye...along with memories tingling at the edge of subconscience.
And again. A human I could not kill as I were, a humanoid digimon. Evolving into a beast. Three rookies watching from the ground, one precariously hanging from the edge of the crevices formed by out fight. One attempting to fight with little bubbles of air which were less damaging than a mosquito sting.
Eye to eye. Small and orange, he cowers as his strength fails.
And a small wing swipe sends him tumbling to the ground, when a claw could have ended him.
Small, harmless, yet still important.
And alive. That was the important thing.
So despite all, the warrior of darkness has a heart. Didn't people believe evil to be heartless? I killed one digimon, one that is not even really a digimon and on addition is an enemy of the 'light.' They killed more.
So what evil crime did I commit, save simply being? I didn't ask for this. I was simply given life and a semi-physical form with no memories. I had a right to anger; that was a human trait. I am a digimon, tainted simply because that spirit made me such.
Why am I called evil? Why are my hands covered in blood...when the truth is, I never touched it? Why must I be buried...an assassin that never performed his duty because his heart pulled him time and again away?
Was it because of expectation? Being darkness, being on the side opposite to the defined 'good', wielding corrupted spirits...I was unexplainably 'evil'. Was it because prejudice dictated darkness to be inherently evil, leading those who accepted without question to forget the gift that night brought and the shadows that protected their secrets while the light sought them out.
Tell me then, how can you truly define evil...when it crosses far too often with good?