A Needle in a Haystack [Plot Arc 4]

All-in-all, Server Woods and the rest of the Eastern Timberlands had never looked better.

The Rosewood construction, after all, had brought the whole region back to life! New paths had been drawn out by repeated footsteps and filled-in with dirt; foragers had found out how to both use and preserve the woods around them, and some of the more intelligent 'feral' Digimon were learning to accept their presence. Small farms started to crop up around, and even some of the more adamant shut-ins of the forest found themselves with rather enjoyable neighbors!

Such was the current life of a resident, purple-garbed Witchmon. Where before she would simply stick to her own cauldron, the sorceress found herself lounging outside, idly using a piece of twine as a toy for her catlike apparition, giving a smile and nod to a few Guardramon carting out cuttings from the inner woods. All was peaceful, a simple and calm day...

... One that would be interrupted by the sudden appearance of a thick, purple spell wafting from the ground. The Witchmon's gaze switched in a second, from content to curious to completely terrified, as she managed to reach for her broom and take to the air - just as that spell activated. The trees, the young and the ancient, cracked apart and split open at the command of this sorcery. The entire area, within three hundred meters, was left naught but a barren wasteland, the charred ground only a precursor of things to come.

The Witchmon slowly turned towards the path, and spotted the culprit: a dark form Cherubimon (X), slowly lifting its arms from the ground, a wild and sadistic smile gracing its visage.

"What on earth - gah!"

If there was any blessing, it seemed this sorceress was being ignored, though the wafting data from two abandoned carts showed how little these actually cared for her safety. The Witchmon ascended further, the sprinting of a Machinedramon (X) into the woods below only furthering the horrid absurdity of this mess.

Damn it, just what was going on? Even that fallen angel started to bound past - why would anyone act this way? Heck, what were they even doing? "Maybe I can - !!"

"Ah-ah..."

The chuckling of a nearby figure caught the Witchmon's attention a moment too late - with her gaze caught on the monstrosities below, she found herself unable to track what had snuck up behind her, so easily - the clawed grip of a Wisemon (X) drawn over her arm. "Now, now. I can't let another spellcaster like you ruin my plans, now can I? Repeat after me..."

He gave a whisper, and she repeated, with those other nails held to her neck:

"I... serve none other... than Wisemon..."

"Ah, good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding." He gave a chuckle, releasing the Witchmon - one who now bore a dark smile, a pulsing red mark glinting from the back of her palm. "Now be a dear and support the others, will you? Ebonwumon is not going to find himself."

"At your command, my liege." Her tone had shifted completely, the sorceress quickly making her way into the woods - the sound of machine gun fire and falling trees dominating the distance. Holding position for just a mere moment, the Wisemon chuckled.

"Been a while since I've gotten my own hands dirty like this..."