Disclaimer: I do not and will probably never own digimon, much to my dismay. This is a tiny drabble about Wizardmon but I would adore writing more I just had no inspiration or thoughts so I thought "Just wing it!" this is the result:

It contains minor language and violence(in places) but is mostly okay so It'll be a T for now.

Wizardmon sat on a rough grey rock; it had been dyed by a mixture of sea and sun and was a light grey colour and smooth on one side and moss covered and black on the other with a grey rough top. He stared out to the ocean; it ebbed and flowed like he knew his spirit would until he had to fight his final battle. It was not one he would have the strength to fight; he was wise enough to guess the outcome. He longed to be just a boat in the sea, moving with the beat but he had to push against the current. The dark blue water mesmerised him for just another second before he spun quickly. Sorcermon was stood there in his aqua blue attire and frosted blonde hair. "Wizardmon" Sorcermon began, looking at his counterpart in his dark blue cloak he frowned, Wizardmon was weakened. "Why are you weak? Killing you now would be no fun" Sorcermon whined. Wizardmon sighed and lifted himself to his feet, using the stone to lean against he looked into Sorcermon's eyes.

"Die now!" Sorcermon shouted. A cloud of crystal dust appeared around his staff before small icicle projectiles appeared and launched, each and every one hit Wizardmon square in the chest. "It's over" Wizardmon said as his body exploded into darkness. Sorcermon raised an eyebrow, he knew that Digimon did not turn into darkness when they died but Wizardmon wasn't ordinary. He looked around uneasily; this was sure as hell scary! "Wizardmon, this ain't cool, Ima kick your ass the old fashioned way, mkay?" Sorcermon's voice quavered and he stuttered occasionally. "Drowning Aquarius!" he shouted, unleashing a beam of water from his staff as his eyes turned wild and he began to hyperventilate. It was another minute before he lay, drooling on the ground.

Wizardmon leaned away from the rock and used his staff to stand up; he stared at the shivering Sorcermon that had fell prey to his Vision of Terror in no time at all. Pitiful. He walked past slowly and looked out to the cold, harsh winds. Tonight wasn't over. Not by far.

Comment on anything from grammar, spelling and general plotline. I relish critique's so please provide them.

Really please offer thoughts and maybe plot ideas in reviews, thank you! :3