The Tempest (Demon Lords 2C)

Even as the waves buffeted her craft, Ophanimon stood tall, noble, and proud. Did she already have her sea legs, or were the grace and poise of an angel simply too firm to be broken by something as simple as the sea? "The pirates aren't in league with Leviamon, no," Ophanimon explained. "But with treasure hunts being held all across the Macro Ocean, we have a perfect opportunity to blend in. Leviamon should be far too busy looking for more obvious foes to pick her fights with. And while you do raise a good point about the sigils, I figure they will help us identify each other in case of the worst happening. They were painted rather subtly, too; dark gold on light gold. If Leviamon does recognize us, it'll be much too late for her to do anything about it."

That said, there was one flaw left in their disguise. Namely, Ophanimon was far from a subtle infiltrator. She looked down at Ryouta, expression blank, before finally letting a smirk crack across her face. "You're right. But fortunately, I've planned for that as well." She reached up to her armor, unclasping it and taking it off in a single, smooth motion. Underneath were the frilled shirt and sturdy pants of a pirate captain, quickly accented with a long, brown jacket that she tucked her wings beneath. She took off her helmet as well, replacing it with a pointed tricorn. Within a minute, she had transformed from high angel to pirate queen. "Infiltration isn't my usual wheelhouse. But when a high angel starts a plan, she commits to it. Not a bad disguise, no?

Also, word of this never leaves the ship. Especially not to Cherubimon. They'll never let me live it down if they think I'm having fun."

With that, she folded her arms behind her back, pacing back and forth as she listened to everyone's strategic assessments. "Sightings have been scarce. We know of her general location here in the oceans, but beyond that we haven't had much luck with specifics. Any attempts at navigating the seas so far have ended in disaster, either getting lost or worse. This is why I've elected to lead one of the ships personally, and why I'm placing the other in your trustworthy hands.

While we have not seen Leviamon personally, we have often seen her aftereffects. Islands we've visited have been left in disarray, feuding with one another for the pettiest of reasons. Some of our crews claim they've heard her whispers drifting along in the breeze, the air chilling with each one. And we've battled with quite a few demons under her control. Just yesterday, we encountered a Gessomon bigger than we've ever seen before relentlessly guarding the southern reaches of the ocean. Sheets of ice seemed to be following it. I can't help but wonder if this is Leviamon growing her sphere of influence. But Leviamon herself remains a mystery, so I do not think we need to fear her directly attacking our ships."

Amelie, a fellow pirate captain, was quick to mention a potential location to search. "Envy clings to the strong, and none right now are stronger than Daemon. You may be onto something," Ophanimon said, nodding in approval. "And with the disloyalty she's displayed so far, it would not surprise me if she were to try and steal the Sea of Blood from beneath his nose. I trust you to investigate this lead, Amelie." The smile on Ophanimon's face was small, yet genuine.

With her points made, she gracefully leaped back onto her ship, jacket billowing out slightly to catch her descent. "If you see nothing by the time you reach the Sea of Blood, send a signal!" she called. Her ship's sails unfurled in full, and the winds began carrying her away to the east. "Best of luck!"

Most of those present seemed somewhat accustomed to being on a ship. Amelie had taken to the role of captain like a hand to a glove, and Ryouta already had a program needed to become a cartographer in a box. Even Zachary, the one newest to this type of adventure, seemed confident in his ability to step up to the plate. And with how many moving parts a ship had? That was a far, far more important role than he would ever expect. There was a small grin on Ophanimon's face as she sailed off into the distance. Was she . . . proud?

Not that there'd be much chance to identify this. Soon enough, Ophanimon and her ship were two specks on the horizon, and Amelie had steered the HGS Diplomat westward in return. Zachary, Ryouta, and Amelie would be all alone now. Only the seas remained to keep them company. Waves battered the Diplomat from side to side as she passed by the docks, each impact echoed by the roar of thunder in the distance. Judging by the position of each lightning strike on the horizon, the western course Amelie recommended would be heading right towards the storm. On any other voyage, sailing towards it would have been an awful idea. On this one, it might've just been the way to go, were Amelie to keep to her current course.

While the waves and thunder kicked up quite the cacophony, they were also the only threats during this first leg of the journey. The winds, while fearsome, were not yet strong enough to threaten the Diplomat's sails. The stormy seas were clear of any other Digimon, whether friend or foe, and their proximity to the Southern Tropics meant any of the Macro Ocean's anomalies were too far to make any impact. Were it a nicer day, it would've made for a relaxing start to the Diplomat's maiden voyage.

It was so relaxing, in fact, that the ship slowed down to catch a breather. Granted, it was completely non-sapient, but it was hard to argue the fact that the ship decelerated with each passing second. Soon it would come to a complete halt, bobbing helplessly in place. As it stopped, a faint scraping noise started reverberating through the air. The first scrape was quiet, but there were so many scrapes that they were near impossible to ignore. Soon they were beating against the hull as quickly and numerously as raindrops. The occasional splash punctuated each scrape, but beyond that the sound was monotonous.

Were Panthermon still at the railing of the boat, he would be the first to notice the cause of this disturbance; a large school of Swimmon had gathered around the ship. They were all swimming in the opposite direction of the Diplomat, and had apparently gathered in such great numbers that they were capable of grinding the boat to a halt. Despite this, they didn't seem to pay it any mind. They just kept on swimming, tails thrashing and fins flailing as they beat against the current.

And down to a one, their eyes were wide with fear.

A variety of base emotions flickered through the Swimmon's surface thoughts; hunger, concern, determination, and doubt, among others. However, these surface thoughts were all muffled and overwhelmed by a single, all-encompassing thought; competitiveness. Driftermon would be able to tell that these Swimmon weren't fleeing from something. Rather, they were all racing in a single direction. The longer Driftermon spent in the waters, the more she would be able to identify about the situation. The fear in the Swimmon's eyes was that of falling behind, whether those in the back being ditched entirely or those in the front being overtaken. Their rush to the boat was to some an inevitability to push past, to others another challenge to conquer. Yet despite these differences, their hearts and mind were beating in the same direction.

That lasted until the last of the stragglers turned around the boat. It turned to Driftermon, eyes wide in shock, before clumsily pointing a fin at the eldritch Digimon. "T-t-t-there it is!" it stammered, voice barely audible to those above the waters. "The Ocean King! It found us! We need to run!"

The head of the pack turned around. "That's not the Ocean King! That's just some other gnarly looking tentacle dude," it said. The second place Swimmon tried to pass the leader, only for the leader to clothesline it with a thrash of its powerful tail. Even at a time like this, competition was still the first thought on its mind. "But, huh. Don't think I've seen anything like that before. Should we fight it anyway?"

By now, the Swimmon had slowed down enough to notice their surroundings. Namely, the fact that the boat parked next to them was occupied. Noticing Valt calling out to them, one of the Swimmon in the middle of the pack piped up. "Why don't we ask the boat people? I'm sure they'd know what to do," it asked.

"Ha! Boat people don't know anything. Bet they can't even swim right," a boisterous Swimmon called.

"Hey! A boat person fed me bread nice. Don't be a dick," said another one.

This kicked off quite the debate among the fishy masses. While they were no longer rushing past the boat, now they had formed a solid circle around it, as if not even noticing that they were blocking its path. About one third of the school was fairly certain the boat couldn't be trusted, another third disagreed strongly, and the last third thought Driftermon and its noodly appendages were a far, far more pressing concern.

Not content to wait for the others any longer, one Swimmon flopped out of the ocean and onto the boat's dock. It looked oddly serene for a beached fish, reclining on the ship as if it owned the place. "Oh! Hello! We're training to fight the Ocean King," it said. "We're scared because, if we're not fast enough, he will . . . what was it? Right, right. 'Grab us and eat us by the dozen!' " The Swimmon put on a gruff, almost slimy voice, although the effort of putting that voice on left him sputtering and coughing. "Although I think most of the others are just scared of losing. But not me! I'm the fourth fastest in my school, you know.

And why are you here, boat people?" It looked from Zachary and Panthermon to Ryouta and Valt, eyes expectant.