Piedmon's domain was a rough mountain tract—strewn with rubble and broken ridges. Not a speck of green in sight, which left plant-type Palmon decidedly unhappy; she loved the forest, and ever since they'd hit this terrain she'd been pouting the whole way.
In the distance, a Roman-style palace came into view—that was Piedmon's seat, the last of the Dark Masters. Defeat him, and they could seize control of all Dark Tornado Mountain.
Even so, Tai remained on edge. After what had happened with MetalSeadramon and Puppetmon, he still feared the darkness of this region might intervene again.
"What is it, Tai?" the kids asked when he suddenly stopped. Only Sora looked at him with a complex gaze, as if searching his eyes for an answer. Tai turned back. "Up ahead is Piedmon's palace. Everyone—be careful. He's nothing like the last two. His attacks are… tricky. Stay sharp, okay?"
Joe scratched his head. "But we've got Omnimon. What's there to be afraid of?"
Tai answered seriously, "We can't underestimate him. Piedmon is the most mysterious of the Dark Masters. No one knows where he came from or how he was born—he just appeared in the Digital World one day. We don't have much data on him, and we know little about his methods. So even with Omnimon, we don't take him lightly. Understood?"
The kids still didn't fully grasp it, but Tai's sober tone made them wary. He had always felt steady—and trustworthy.
Inside the palace—
Piedmon lounged with one leg crossed over the other, the raised foot bobbing lazily. A goblet of red wine in hand, he sipped now and then, a mysterious smile playing on his lips as he peered into a giant telescope.
A bizarre, elusive Demon Man–type Mega, Piedmon was wrapped in enigma—of a wholly different order than Demon or Undead types. His true nature was obscure; why do Demon Man Digimon appear at all? For what purpose do they exist? No one knows, and there's no way to find out. His trump technique is Trump Sword: four blades—heart, spade, club, diamond—from the "magic box" embedded in his back teleport and impale the target in the next instant, an inescapable strike.
Destruction Aurora: pressing both hands together, he fires a high-voltage shockwave at light speed.
Magic Handkerchief: he produces a white cloth and wraps the opponent, transforming them into a doll.
Flying Sand and Stones: he whips up the ground's grit into a crushing barrage.
"Heh-heh. So the DigiDestined finally made it here. In that case, I can't be rude—I should prepare a proper gift."
In a shadowed corner of the hall, a woman's head toppled down—it was his subordinate, LadyDevimon.
"Lord Piedmon, entrust this task to me. Allow me to greet the DigiDestined."
"See that you aren't remiss. Bring them only the finest gifts."
"Leave everything to me. I'll entertain them well." With that, LadyDevimon vanished into the palace gloom, leaving Piedmon alone with a cold smile.
"Mimi!" As Tai's group was about to move toward the palace, a shout came from behind.
"Huh?" They turned to see, down the mountain path, a frog's head and a tadpole's head peeking out. Mimi's face brightened. "Gekomon and Otamamon are here!"
"And us, too!" More Digimon emerged in a line behind them.
"It's Meramon!"
"And Frigimon!"
"Leomon came as well!"
"Piximon—everyone's here!"
Leomon stepped up to the children. "We heard you were going to fight Piedmon. We've come to help—let us contribute."
"That's right, pi! We're gonna beat 'em, pi!" Piximon was as exasperatingly adorable as ever, every sentence ending in that little "pi." Mimi's eyes turned to hearts; she scooped him into her arms.
"Ah-hah—hah—" A shrill laugh rang out from behind a boulder while the reunions were under way. LadyDevimon rose into the air.
"It's LadyDevimon," Gatomon hissed, instantly recognizing the foe she'd battled before. At the sight of the fallen angel, her eyes narrowed; she raised her sharp foreclaws, slipping into a fighting stance.
"Ah-hah—hah— Enjoy the grand gift I've brought you," LadyDevimon crooned. "You DigiDestined won't soon forget it." She swept her hand; the rock underfoot split, and ranks of Impmon swarmed out.
Impmon—soldiers of the Nightmare Legion—were quarrelsome Dark-attribute, Imp-type Champions. Bold and defiant, they were said to be the progenitors of all evil Digimon in the Dark Area—but being hardly robust, they were often used by stronger Demon types. Fond of tactics and tricks, they loved to mess with foes alongside DemiDevimon. Their special move, Nightmare Panic, unleashes ultrasonic waves from the mouth or summons the power of darkness to engulf the enemy, trapping them in endless terror and dreams.
Encircled by countless Impmon, the kids and their partners tensed for battle.
From above, LadyDevimon sneered. "That's just an appetizer. Now for the real present." From behind the rocks on all sides rose a host of Nocturnmon.
Nocturnmon—ghastly Demon Man–type Champions—had bodies covered in tattooed evil spells; as many sigils as they bore, so many curses they could use. Don't expect a straight fight—they lurked in the dark, striking from ambush, a cadre of ignoble backstabbers. Their finisher was "Death Thrust," a savage lunge with the trident in their right hand.
"And one more surprise. DigiDestined—accept this grand gift." A black vortex opened to LadyDevimon's left. From within stepped a Digimon as black as pitch—its features eerily like Myotismon's.
"It's NeoMyotismon," Izzy reported after a quick search on his laptop, and everyone crowded in to read.
Dubbed the "Moonlight NeoMyotismon," ruler of VampireLand and a general of the Moon-Dark Army "Giant Death Star," it specialized in erasing enemy forces without a trace—dispatching Undead troops to infiltrate and lie low until they could quietly eliminate targets one by one. Living ever in darkness, it forgot its feelings; killing was neither joy nor disgust—just life. Only in watching a Digimon die beneath the moon did it feel the lone spark of fulfillment. NeoMyotismon could summon an inexhaustible swarm of familiars called "Mawfiends," which craved digital life-force. Launched en masse at foes as "Nightmare Assault," they reduced Digimon to wretched husks. Its extendable arms enabled "Bloodstream Claw Assault," to seize prey and shred them once they'd spilled all their secrets. And when the dark energy gathered full in its chest with the waxing moon, it fired the finisher "Demonheart Moonstrike," dragging the field into absolute night—where a single line of light appeared ahead, not as hope, but as the light of the end.
"Trying to hog all the credit, LadyDevimon? Leave some for me," came a cold, distant voice from behind her.
LadyDevimon's brow twitched. "Phelesmon. Why are you here?"
"Why should you be the only one?" the speaker replied, stepping into view.
Phelesmon—a noble-seeming Fallen Angel–type Ultimate—was said to grant wishes in exchange for a soul. It was rumored to evolve from Nocturnmon, but the details were unknown. Its specialty "Black Statue" turned foes into ebony stone; its finisher "Demon's Shout" was a curse-laden howl that drove enemies mad.
Phelesmon stood upon a three-headed beast—Cerberumon.
Cerberumon, an Ultimate Beast-type Digimon feared as the "Watcher of Hell," had low-purity Chrome Digizoid claws on all fours, rending ordinary materials with ease. A tough living exoshell armored its body, rapidly closing wounds. The special armor-heads on its shoulders possessed their own consciousness, detecting attacks from any angle and relaying the data to Cerberumon's main head. Its finisher: Hellfire—green flames belched from all three jaws.
"Hmph." LadyDevimon ignored Phelesmon and turned her gaze on the children and their partners. "Now that everyone's here—let the show begin. Lord Piedmon will know who his most capable subordinate is."
At her signal, the surrounding Impmon and Nocturnmon surged toward the kids. NeoMyotismon at her side let out a roar and beat its wings, diving on them as well.
With a curt snort, Phelesmon gave the barest nod—and beneath him, Cerberumon leapt to the attack.
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