In Our Darkest Days [Bone] Aug 19, 2019 0:49:19 GMT
Post by Dr. Mikemon on Aug 19, 2019 0:49:19 GMT
Five hundred and eighty cycles prior to the current day, the Digital World was a much different place. Even the more 'normal' areas were torn apart by war and rough battlefields, one that drew several laymen into the battlefield on one side or the other. In contrast, the Dark Area was actually in relative peace. Yes, the land was ruled over by seven tyrannical leaders, but there was no question who was in charge.
No question, until one inevitably died. Less than one week prior, the prior Barbamon, Greed, found himself slain at the hands of Pride in a rough territorial dispute, and now the balance of power had shifted. Rather than wait for their land to be overcome, Greed's prior overseers - an Asuramon, with the assistance of several Sorcermon - had rounded up every Salamon and Mikemon that they could within the Dark Area. Some came willingly, others were drawn forcefully from their homes, but the question remained:
Where was Greed?
"Tch. Alright, listen up!" The several-masked Digimon cracked his knuckles, looking on at this bizarre encampment of cats. "None of you all are leaving until we find our Greed. So figure it out among yourselves - unless you want to challenge us head-on." A handful of Musyamon surrounded the area, enough for the group of cats - around sixty in total - to look on in either fear or annoyance.
Some knew that there wasn't anything special to them. Others reflected in silence, and still others looked on in fear. There was one, however, that looked fed up with it all - and stood up.
"Alright, that's enough - if you're looking for Greed, then I'm here!"
"Oh?" The Asuramon chuckled, looking on at a distance, as the other cats looked on. "Tch... I never wanted to stand up, but to be chosen for something like this... yes, this is something I have to be! I'm the one who will - !!"
He didn't even get to finish that sentence - as soon as he felt the confidence in his own words, he'd feel a sharp grip around his head. A Mikemon stood behind him, a dark glare in his eyes as his nails shone gold. The cat in front shivered in fear, that same glow taking over his entire body - until he fell to the side with a loud thunk. Nothing but a hunk of haughty metal.
"Don't insult the title." Mikemon sighed, walking past the rest of his brethren - and even a now-nervous looking Asuramon. Only once he stood at the front of the group, would he turn around. The Sorcermon fell to their knees, the Asuramon following a moment after - as Mikemon addressed the rest of the captured.
Or, he would have. "... Musyamon? Collect the rest of them that didn't think to kneel in my presence. Do what you want with their data." The cat gave a sigh, and addressed his new general directly. "Well? Don't waste my time. Show me around the old Greed's stomping grounds."
"... Yes, my Lord." He would stand, and the cat would follow right on along, rubbing one hand in the palm of another.
This is the story of Mikemon's first days as a Demon Lord.