The Tempest (Demon Lords 2C)

Is it such a strange system? Despite all of the qualms Leviamon had with her cycle, she sounded genuinely puzzled by Ryouta's observation. All that is within this world renews. Data is broken down and reconstructed into new form. Code is cleansed and refreshed, giving its bearer a new lease on life. Digimon cycles. The world cycles. I cycle.

Nevertheless, he seemed to be understanding the intricacies of this system. Leviamon laughed, quietly at first but intensifying to an uproar that shook Ilbert's walls. You are correct. To be a Demon Lord is to surrender yourself to something far greater and far lesser than what you once were, she explained. You may believe that you remain yourself, but you become forever part of a whole. Your mind will be touched by the thoughts of a thousand others, and you always leave something behind. And such is where I stand, the aggregate of a thousand cycles and the progenitor of a thousand more. To splinter my consciousness would be to kill the me that exists. Though perhaps if such a fate would give me peace . . . She cut herself off, a low snarl echoing through the air. Bah. The thought of what I'd miss alone leaves me fuming.

Knowledge wasn't the only thing gained from this little excursion. An alliance, however shaky, had also been forged. Leviamon growled contentedly at Amelie's agreement to her terms. Then it is settled. Consider the next Demon Lord to cross us in for quite the unpleasant surprise, she said. A smile could practically be felt within her voice. Although, you say Ophanimon comes within a vessel similar to yours? Strange . . . I'm certain I've seen another, yet it seemed to be crewed by an ordinary human.

Silence hung in the air. Oh.

For a while the oceans began to simmer. Was Leviamon that furious over being made a fool out of? However, they quickly started to calm, pulsating like deep, soothing breaths. I can show you to where I last saw this vessel. Yet in exchange for this act of goodwill, I must ask you to trust me in turn. A red tail shot from the sheets of ice below, swirling in surprisingly rapid circles. The glacial sheets shattered into pieces, turning into a swirling maelstrom in just a matter of minutes. Shards of ice the size of a Rookie and waves that towered to the height of Champions began to swirl about one another, although with each cycle the severity of these hazards started to die down. I am churning the seas themselves to grant you passage. Think of it as an underwater tunnel of sorts, with the eye of the maelstrom as its entrance. Now, do not dawdle: I do not offer such efforts lightly.

Are they not one in the same? Leviamon asked, sounding genuinely baffled. Was it any surprise that the Demon Lords, being such sinful, proud, and powerful beings, saw a feud and outright warfare as two sides of the same coin? Wars are waged. Games are played. And then when the winner stands, the rest return in another cycle to dethrone them. Assuming, of course, that outsiders don't take advantage of their war wounds to deal the killing blow first.

That said, Ryouta's last words had clearly troubled the Demon Lord. She fell silent as he continued to speculate, and the thrashing maelstrom that was started to spread below Ilbert had only grown more intense. Inky blackness spread out from the center of the whirlpool, its abyss gazing right back at the trio.

The first breach wouldn't be easy. Even descending into the maelstrom would be downright painful for Ilbert, waves, ice, and even sand slicing across his hull. It was almost as if he was surrounded on all sides by drills. However, the initial sensation died down quickly, replaced by the soothing relief of the water on all sides. His passengers, too, would be spared the turbulence from this initial dive. With each second it became less tumultuous, until soon the ride would become perfectly smooth.

Unfortunately, the smoother the ride got, the darker it became. Clear cyan waters gave way to a deep blue color, and murky blackness followed shortly thereafter. Occasionally eyes opened up in the depths, for the most part looking like those of the Shademon that had previously crowded around Ilbert. Their blood red pupils followed the crew, staring curious at them all the while. A few others looked more like those of deep sea fish, bulbous and glassy. The largest of the eyes was nearly the size of Ilbert's window, with pitch black sclera and a sickly yellow pupil.

Shortly after these eyes were passed, the tunnel would begin to shift upwards. The soothing black depths would give way to another rocky maelstrom, leaving Ilbert banged up and his passengers once more shaken up by turbulence. Fortunately, it would be less painful going up than coming down, and soon Ilbert would be able to breach the waters with ease.

The sight that the party came across would surprise them. Ophanimon's ship was surrounded on all sides by what looked like boats made out of junk. Their hulls were made of rusted metal, hole-ridden wood, and the siding of dumpsters, yet despite their shoddy construction they floated through the water with ease. Their broadsides showered the sides of the ship with junk and sludge, pelting it on all sides but not seeming to do much damage. Despite this, a Raremon sat proudly atop the bow of the largest ship, pointing for another round of firing. His sail flowed freely, a crude drawing of him wearing a crown and flexing emblazoned on its side.

Ophanimon's ship itself had fallen eerily still, as if not even reacting to its aggressors.

I do not wish to talk about this.

That was all Leviamon had to say on the matter. However, perhaps that was for the best. There was a time and a place for philosophical mutterings, and an attack against a rival pirate fleet probably wasn't either. Ryouta and Ilbert prepared their cannons, ready to rain pain on the enemy fleet as Valt flew into a flanking position. Amelie shifted back into her Digimon form, flying to Ophanimon's silent vessel to see just what was going on. And Zachary aimed for a more diplomatic approach, trying to end this fight with words before it even began.

The Raremon looked down at Zachary, harumphing slightly at the tamer. "Oi, now who's this, then?" he asked, his voice every bit as deep as his sunken-in eyes and phlegmatic as his sludgy flesh. "You're speaking to the high admiral of Leviamon's fleet, you git! And I think high admiral outranks . . . random conductor!"

"Uh, sire?" a Numemon asked, climbing onto Raremon's shoulder. In contrast to the deep, gargly-voiced Raremon, this Numemon's voice was high and scratchy. "I think that's a Mega level Digimon. Maybe we shouldn't piss it off. You know what happened the last time."

Raremon sighed in irritation, facepalming hard enough to send his facial features scattering across his head. "Fine, fine, if I bloody have to," he huffed. He turned to Zachary, rising up to his full height in an attempt at looking more intimidating. "When this vessel drifted over here, we gave it thirty seconds to identify itself. Thirty, y'see? That was generosity on my part! I'm sure you know that thirty is a lot of time. Anyway, it completely ignored us. We told it if it didn't respond, we'd blow it right out of the water. It ignored us for another thirty seconds! We fired a warning shot. It still-"

"I think they get the picture, my lord," the Numemon said. In response, the Raremon backhanded it into the water, a new Numemon crawling onto its shoulder to take its place.

"Anyway, such disrespect being shown to me had to be answered. Am I wrong?" The Raremon folded his arms. Clearly, the case was closed! For the time being, the fleet of filth continued their assault, but it was still every bit as ineffectual as its first salvo was. Heck, judging by Raremon's explanation, this was far from the first salvo! How long had they been "fighting" for?

Heraldmon would see that the ship looked completely pristine. It didn't seem to have been boarded by any other threats. In fact, it didn't seem like anybody had been on the ship in ages. The deck was covered in a thin layer of dust, seafoam sprays leaving the occasional disturbance in the otherwise still layer. The sail hung unfurled and proud, yet the wind only gave it gentle nudges in any given direction. The cabin door hung open, creaking slightly as it opened up into darkness.

"Someone there?" Ophanimon's voice, bold and defiant, came from the cabin. It sounded all too distant, yet surprisingly close.