"Oo—oo—!" The voice drew closer, and a figure swung toward them on a vine.
"Who's there?"
Thump. A silhouette landed on a branch not far from the kids. "Who else but the superstar—me?!" The Digimon struck a ridiculously dramatic pose.
"Applause, applause!" it said, clapping metal hands together with a loud clang-clang.
Dropping the bit, the Digimon peered down at them. "Long time no see, DigiDestined."
"You're… Etemon?" Joe ventured.
"No—he's MetalEtemon," Tai said from the side.
"Bingo! The one and only superstar!"
"But didn't you die?" Mimi asked, baffled.
"Excellent question." MetalEtemon promptly turned around and—despite being smooth chrome head to toe with nowhere to hide anything—produced a microphone from who-knew-where, then began to sing, utterly self-absorbed: "It's a loooong story that'll move you to tears. Datamon ambushed me; MetalTyrannomon beat me down. But in the darkness I kept reviving, only to be destroyed again, over and over. I suffered for so long—but I didn't die. Know why? Because I had revenge to live for—against you brats who brought me low, and against Datamon! So I was reborn as MetalEtemon, and I came back to this world for payback. Got it?"
While MetalEtemon warbled some song no one had asked for, Izzy pulled up the dossier.
A Mega, a modified Digimon evolved from Etemon—the self-proclaimed "strongest King of Digimon"—MetalEtemon traveled in search of tough opponents, harvesting hard-won battle data along the way. After so many fights, its body was battered, so it analyzed its weaknesses from that data and fully metallized itself, reviving as the ultimate fighting machine. With basic combat parameters boosted to the limit, it uses the trip-up finisher "Banana Slip" as a fighter's trick. Its surface is fully coated in Chrome Digizoid used by metal-type Digimon—defense off the charts; "Strongest" is written across its chest; an odd gold medal hangs at its neck; and a Bearmon plush rides its belt—legends say Etemon used to pal around with Bearmon's Baby form, so they both wear each other's plushies. Special attacks include "Deathlight Thunder Blade," a giant black lightning strike like a powered-up Dark Spirit Ball; "Steel Etemon Fist," an… er… metal butt-bash; "World's Greatest Punch," a brutal straight with absurd power; "Banana Stink," a knockout gas of the worst kind; "Banana Slip," high-speed movement by skidding on a peel; "Million Punch," a blinding flurry of blows; and "Heavy Monkey Kick," a body-shrouding white-light rush of savage kicks.
MetalEtemon continued crooning, completely indifferent to the fact that everyone—Digimon and human—was close to gagging. Both sides pulled apart to opposite edges of the clearing, and even the trees Zamielmon had roused fell still—as if the song itself had broken the spell.
"Enough. Stop singing," Zamielmon said at last, unable to take another second.
"Hey! I wasn't finished, you brat," MetalEtemon snapped at the interruption.
"You call me a brat?" Zamielmon's temper spiked. To be fair, MetalEtemon wasn't wrong: though Zamielmon had evolved far beyond Puppetmon, some things carried over—just as MetalEtemon had inherited a… voice problem. And while Zamielmon wasn't as short as Puppetmon, he still wasn't exactly tall; getting poked in that sore spot sent him bristling.
"Isn't that what you are?" MetalEtemon said, blasé.
"You stinking monkey!" Zamielmon roared back.
"What?! You dare call me a stinking monkey?" MetalEtemon hopped up—clearly, that was his sore spot.
"Because it's true."
"Brat."
"Stinking monkey."
The kids and partners watched the two hurl insults, feeling like the air itself—completely ignored.
At last Zamielmon had enough and struck first. "World Bullet!" The massive flight bolt "Indra" mounted in his abdomen charged and fired straight at MetalEtemon.
"World's Greatest Punch!" MetalEtemon counterpunched.
He misjudged the gap between them. The bolt "Indra" bored a hole through MetalEtemon's fist and carried him away, snapping a row of trees.
"Hahaha! How's that, stinking monkey?" Zamielmon laughed.
MetalEtemon got up, the hole in his hand sealing over at once. Trembling with rage, he clenched his fists. "You damn brat. You'll pay for that." White light wrapped his body; he rocketed forward, the glow snapping off right in Zamielmon's face—"Heavy Monkey Kick!"—a chain of vicious kicks.
Zamielmon didn't even flinch. He simply raised his right forearm, letting the blows thud harmlessly. "Bow Slash!" He dragged the blade-edged bow along his abdomen in a savage arc—MetalEtemon's frame opened with a gaping cut.
"Foot Shot." Zamielmon's legs blurred. Before MetalEtemon could react, a concealed arrow blasted out past a feinting kick, punched through his body, and booted him away.
"Turbulent Arrow Barrage!" Every bow-limb on Zamielmon's body roared to life, an unfailing storm of shafts peppering MetalEtemon from head to toe.
"Gaaaah!" MetalEtemon howled—not from pain (as a puppet-type, he didn't feel any), but from the fury of being manhandled by a "brat."
"Headshot Snipe." Zamielmon nocked and loosed—a single arrow, dead for MetalEtemon's head.
"Million Punch!" MetalEtemon unleashed a blinding flurry, trying to swat the shot aside—overestimating himself and underestimating the power behind Zamielmon's draw.
Whistle—
The arrow punched clean through MetalEtemon's head and vanished. His Digicore wasn't in his skull; he'd dodged death by chance. Inside the head casing there was no machinery—just darkness. An uncanny, oily black—the same kind of black as the vortex they'd seen with MetalSeadramon. The darkness in MetalEtemon's head flickered, and the hole sealed over as if it had never been.
"Ah!" Mimi clapped her hands over her eyes at the grotesque sight; Sora kept her gaze, but her face had gone tight.
A bad feeling crawled up Tai's spine. MetalEtemon's revival wasn't surprising. But having his head blown open and healing instantly without any lapse? And that black gleam—the same as MetalSeadramon's vortex—stank of conspiracy.
"You damn brat—damn, damn BRAT!" MetalEtemon screamed as black vapor boiled off him, enveloping his body until only his voice seeped out.
"What…?" Zamielmon frowned, wary. He flicked a probing arrow—but before it entered the fog, a Chromedizoid arm in a black glove snapped out and caught the shaft. "Brat—I will make you pay."
The fog peeled away.
What emerged wore a red royal cloak and Chrome Digizoid boots. Chrome encased his whole body. A crown gleamed above his brow.
"That's KingEtemon," Izzy blurted after a frantic check of his database.
A primate Digimon at the very pinnacle of the Etemon line. Arrogant and boastful, he never stops bragging. He calls himself "the King of Digimon," the "King of Kings." Other Digimon roll their eyes, but he never notices. He wears a "KING" monkey suit on his chest. Lately he's insisted he's one of the Royal Knights—but there's zero basis for it.
Special techniques:
Monkey Theater — a performance so ridiculous it robs foes of the will to fight, turning battle itself into a farce through sheer showmanship.
Royal Monkey Kick — a devastating kingly kick.
"Changing outfits won't save you," Zamielmon said coldly. "Take this—World Bullet!"
"Parlor tricks," KingEtemon snorted. "Royal Monkey Kick!" One kick batted the massive "Indra" bolt aside.
The two were about to clash again—and the kids and their partners were dying of boredom at the thought of how long this slapfight might drag on—when a cold, bleak voice cut straight through the farce.
"So this is how you behave—tearing each other apart. Creating you really was a mistake."
A mass of black mist welled into being between KingEtemon and Zamielmon.
Tai drew a long breath. Was the mastermind behind all this finally about to show itself?
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