In a shadowed palace.
A massive Digimon spoke first. "The Four Sovereigns' seal is almost complete. What's our next move? Piedmon, say something." He looked toward a small, slender Digimon seated high upon a dais.
Piedmon chuckled. "Sealing the Four Sovereigns is only the beginning. There's plenty more to do. Those four are small fry—do you really think they run the Digital World? How naïve. Consider how strong the one who doesn't even dare enter yet must be. We're all small pieces, much as it galls me. Us and those DigiDestined—we're just chessmen."
At that, the Dark Masters—names that made the Digital World tremble—fell silent.
After a long pause, MetalSeadramon broke the quiet. "If he's that powerful, why send us at all? Why don't they come themselves? Letting us and those DigiDestined batter each other back and forth—isn't it ridiculous? Are we really going to dance to their tune?"
"Hmph." Piedmon snorted. "Who knows what they're thinking? Before them, we've got no counterplay at all. Wiping us out would take them a flick of a finger—and then they'd just swap in a more obedient set. Enough—get moving. Do as you're told, or die." Wordless, the Dark Masters filed from the hall and split to the four winds, each to his task.
—
The Dark Ocean.
A colossal Digimon lay immersed in waters so dreadful that even Dark-types feared them. Its pitch-black body all but vanished into the sea, but you could still make out two huge cannons on its back—twins to Machinedramon's— and a grotesque patchwork: Tentomon's head, MetalGreymon's cranial "hair," Greymon's torso, Garurumon's legs, Monochromon's tail, claws from Devimon, Kuwagamon, and SkullGreymon, and wings from Angemon and Airdramon. Each piece was taken from one of the Digital World's strongest parts, fused into something savage—enough to turn the stomach. On the shore, a human figure in a black cloak stood watching. Man and monster stared across the gloom, tension filling the space.
The sea-borne Digimon broke the silence. "All this time, and you still managed to find me."
The cloaked figure's face was lost beneath the hood. "Even if you fled to the ends of the earth, I'd find you—and end you."
"Ha—ha—ha—" The grating laugh rippled through the space. "End me? You've failed how many times now—and you think this time you can?"
The hooded one clenched a fist. "I won't let you run wild again. This time, you won't escape."
"Is that so? Then try."
After a long stillness, the cloaked one spoke again. "Don't think I don't see your little games. Have you forgotten our agreement?"
"I remember. Relax. I'm just playing—I won't break our deal."
"See that you don't. If you interfere again, I won't sit by."
The exchange ended, and the dead hush returned. No one knew what that conversation portended.
In the dim spaces under the pyramid, Datamon was tinkering with several large machines. Lines of program text bloomed and vanished on the displays; indicator lights beside them blinked in rapid flurries. By Datamon's request, this chamber had been left unmodified, clashing starkly with the gleaming, sci-fi sheen of the Metal Empire's capital above. As the onscreen processes settled into order, the indicator lights went dark. The final result popped up. Datamon sighed. "Another failure. Is Mega really impossible to catalyze with a program? I wonder what the Lord will say when he hears this."
In a candlelit room within the mountaintop castle, shadows seemed to gnaw at the lone flame, threatening to devour the room's only light. The chill, sinister air was just the sort of comfort that made an Undead Digimon feel at ease—even elated. Its master sat hidden in the gloom: Myotismon.
His mood had been good. The Human World incursion plan was at its final stage. The army he'd recruited was on the march; the faster elements had already arrived. With Gatomon handling the work, the rest would gather soon. He would open the ancient Gate to the other dimension—the Human World—and lead his host through. Soon he would be the sovereign of both the Digital World and the Human World. Tens of thousands of Digimon and humans would crawl at his feet, coming at his call and leaving at his wave. Ambition is a marvelous thing—it makes you stronger day by day. Myotismon smiled from the heart. "Soon. Very soon."
Wingbeats sounded at the door.
"Enter." Expression wiped clean, Myotismon gave the order, his thoughts cut short.
"Lord Myotismon, I have a report." The door swung wide. DemiDevimon flitted in.
"What is it?"
"The DigiDestined have split up again. They've scattered into five groups."
"Fine. Go take their Crests. All of them. Understood?"
"Yes." DemiDevimon flapped out the window.
Myotismon frowned. "You know I despise eavesdroppers."
Gatomon stepped in from outside and bowed deeply. Myotismon rose and turned, a small show of regard.
"How goes the recruiting?" he asked.
"Per your command, I've searched far and wide for capable fighters. We've achieved much. The gathering is nearly complete," Gatomon replied.
"Good. Tell them to hurry. Our time is short."
"Yes."
DemiDevimon left the castle and winged toward the direction the DigiDestined had gone.
At that time, Izzy and his partner were scaling a rugged mountain trail.
"Izzy, let's rest. I really can't go another step," Tentomon said, stopping—spent.
Human potential is inexhaustible—you only had to look at Izzy. The twin goals of finding Gennai and studying the Digicode had filled him with drive. He was outpacing even Tentomon. Tentomon couldn't take another step; Izzy was still full of energy.
Two months of fruitless searching had drained Tentomon's confidence, but Izzy's remained unshaken.
Ahead, DemiDevimon was laying his trap—signboards. Spotting Izzy and Tentomon, he ducked out of sight.
Izzy talked as they walked; one glance at Tentomon's face said his partner wasn't exactly enthralled.
"I'm sure if we find Gennai, we'll learn the secret of the Crests." Izzy gazed at the Tag in his hand, as if he could see through to the secret within.
Soon they reached DemiDevimon's posted sign.
"A sign," Tentomon noticed first.
"There is," Izzy said, excitement rising—then it fell flat when he read it. "Warning: 'Fresh Droppings Falling Ahead—Proceed With Caution.'"
The line made both of them jump. They hurried to detour—only to find the same signs on every route. Herded at last, they dropped into a bottomless pit.
Guided by a mysterious voice, Izzy discarded his curiosity— the key that had unlocked his Crest of Knowledge.
In a space like the cosmos itself, the voice's owner appeared: Vademon.
An identity unknown, Vademon is an Ultimate suffused with eerie strangeness—an alien from the void, or so it seems. Yet it's born from a plant seed. From its swollen, developed brain and octopoid lower body, you'd never guess the ferocity it contains. The ray-gun it carries fires an Abduction Beam, and those infernal, scarlet lips make foes taste utter humiliation.
Seduced by its words, Izzy handed over his Crest and began performing odd motions. When Tentomon began devolving to Mochimon—then to Pabumon—it was clear this was no harmless exercise.
Up above, DemiDevimon arrived at Vademon's lair: a yawning black sinkhole. Beside it stood a curved iron pole with a bare doorbell at the end. He pressed. Vademon popped up, making DemiDevimon jump.
DemiDevimon tried to buy Izzy's Crest—but after hemming and hawing he couldn't produce a single thing Vademon wanted. Vademon's face changed in an instant.
"Customer, you're not here to waste my time, are you?" Vademon said sourly, feeling a deal slip away.
Below, Pabumon's tears shimmered with all his adventures alongside Izzy. Bathed in those memories, Izzy came back to himself.
"Sorry, Pabumon. I made you devolve," Izzy said, scooping him up.
Just then, raised voices echoed from outside—the quarrel between Vademon and DemiDevimon. Determined to finish Myotismon's errand, DemiDevimon latched on like a burr; wherever Vademon went, he stuck to him.
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