Let's reach 250 Power Stones for an extra chapter
***
The air inside the warehouse is thick with smoke, stinging my eyes and catching in my throat. Emergency lights flicker erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that do little to cut through the gloom. Renamon stays close, a silent, powerful presence at my side, her ears swiveling, taking in every sound. The Digivice in my hand feels warm, a steady thrum against my palm.
"Apemon!" I call out, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "Stop! Please, you have to stop this! There are people trapped in here!"
My voice seems to echo in the cavernous space, swallowed by the groaning of tortured metal and the distant cries of the injured. Renamon adds a low, resonant plea, a series of soft growls and chirps that carry an undeniable authority, a desperate appeal for calm.
The massive Digimon pauses, its chest heaving, the red light in its eyes flickering, almost as if registering our words. For a moment, I think… I hope… it might listen.
But then, a guttural snarl rips from its throat. The bone club, thick as a tree trunk, slams down with bone-jarring force against a nearby concrete pillar. The impact sends a shower of pulverized concrete raining down, dangerously close to us. The tremor of its power vibrates through the floor, a stark reminder of the sheer destructive force we're facing. It's not listening. It's not de-escalating. It's only getting more agitated. The urgency of the situation ratchets up, a cold knot forming in my stomach.
My breath catches as Apemon lunges, a blur of golden fur and raw power. The bone club, immense, arcs towards me. My Digivice pulses, warm against my clammy skin. "Renamon, engage!" I shout, my voice lost in Apemon's roar.
Renamon flows like liquid shadow, a streak of gold against the grimy backdrop. She dodges the crushing blow, the club whistling past where she was. Her Power Paw strikes lash out, sparks flying as her claws hit the bone club. The air crackles, ozone filling my lungs. Smoke hangs heavy, the fight's rhythm matching my racing heart.
My knuckles whiten as I grip the railing, my breath catching with every near miss. Renamon's fur is a streak against the smoky air, impossible speed as she darts and weaves. "Renamon, now!" I yell, fear tightening my voice.
My fingers fly across the Digivice screen, tapping Speed Plug-In B. Azure energy surges, enveloping Renamon. She solidifies into a dozen shimmering afterimages, moving with incomprehensible velocity. She's a golden comet.
Renamon circles Apemon, a dizzying dance, unleashing Diamond Storm. The leaves pepper his hide, stinging nips against thick fur, drawing a roar of pain. Apemon swings its club wildly, carving empty air. The momentum shifts, the fight tilting precariously.
But Apemon is Champion-level. A lucky swipe grazes Renamon's flank. She tumbles, a flash of gold hitting the grimy floor with a thud. My heart leaps, palms slick with sweat. Debris swirls in a vortex of dust.
My breath catches as Renamon hits the wall, dust exploding. She's down, and seeing her hurt ignites something fierce. My Digivice feels like an extension of my will. "Come on, Renamon, get up!" I whisper, voice raw.
My fingers fly across the Digivice, the green light of the Boost Chip pulsing. I channel everything into Renamon's strength, her resilience. A subtle surge amplifies her power. Renamon's form sharpens, her eyes flaring as she pushes off the wall.
With an explosive burst, Renamon closes the distance. Her Power Paw strikes are faster, harder, landing with a sickening crack against Apemon's bone club. The sound echoes, a sharp rhythm of impact. Apemon stumbles back, crashing through crates, his defenses faltering. He roars, fur bristling. "Angry Spike!" he bellows.
Metallic spikes erupt, a deadly storm hurtling towards us. I instinctively shield myself, but Renamon takes hits, spikes tearing her fur. Her momentum carries her forward. She pushes through pain, her charge staggering Apemon. He regains his footing, grapples Renamon, and hurls her against another wall. Dust billows. The ground cracks. The bone club swings again, a relentless assault Renamon barely parries. The ceiling groans, threatening collapse. Flames lick from panels. I dodge shrapnel, my face etched with desperate focus. Renamon fights with everything she has.
My breath hitches, each clang echoing my heart. Renamon is down again, the bone club a terrifying presence. My Digivice feels heavy, a cold comfort against rising panic. "No, not like this," I mutter, trembling. I fumble with the Digivice, searching for something.
My eyes scan the cards, landing on Heavy Metal. A cannon… a pilebunker. It's a long shot. With a surge of hope, I slot the card in. The Digivice grinds. Steam hisses from Renamon's forearm, and a colossal pilebunker cannon manifests, dwarfing her limb. "Renamon! Now!" I scream.
Renamon's golden eyes flash. She surges forward, a juggernaut. The pilebunker arm extends, detonating against Apemon's torso. The impact is seismic, cratering his fur-armor, slamming him backward through steel beams.
But Apemon surges back, primal fury overriding pain. He seizes Renamon, his massive hands digging into her fur, and pile-drives her down. The ground cracks. The bone club swings again, a brutal assault Renamon barely parries. The ceiling groans, flames lick. I dodge shrapnel. Renamon fights with everything.
A deep, gravelly voice slices through the chaos, cutting through the roar of Apemon's charge and the groaning of the warehouse.
"Apemon, stand down."
The command hangs in the air, heavy with authority. Apemon freezes mid-swing, the bone club poised to crush Renamon. The red glow in his eyes dims, fading to a confused brown. He lowers the weapon, his massive frame suddenly appearing less threatening, more like a confused, overgrown child. He lumbers toward the shadowed periphery of the warehouse, where a figure emerges.
He's tall, dressed in weathered military fatigues, a tactical mask obscuring his face. A faint, dark pulse emanates from a stone on his finger, a Shadowstone, I realize with a jolt. Renamon rises slowly, the pilebunker retracting from her arm with a hiss of hydraulics. She's battered, her golden fur matted with dust and grime, but her stance is still wary, her icy blue eyes fixed on the newcomer. I clutch my Digivice, its erratic scanning a nervous counterpoint to the sudden stillness. The settling rubble crunches underfoot as we all hold our breath, poised for whatever comes next.
"Who are you?" I demand, my voice surprisingly steady. "What do you want?"
The soldier takes a step forward, his masked gaze sweeping over the scene. "Just here to collect my… associate," he says, his voice rough. He gestures toward Apemon with a gloved hand. "He gets a little… enthusiastic when he's unsupervised."
Apemon lets out a low rumble, a sound that might have been a whine.
"You control him?" I ask, my eyes narrowing. My Digivice buzzes again, an alert I can't quite decipher.
"Let's just say we have an understanding," the soldier replies, his tone dismissive. He turns his attention to Renamon, his head tilting slightly. "And you, fox. You've got spirit. But you're outmatched here." He glances at me, then back at Apemon. "This is a private matter."
Renamon lets out a low growl, a warning rumble in her chest. She's not letting her guard down, and neither am I. The Shadowstone on his finger pulses again, a subtle rhythm that sends a shiver down my spine. I don't trust him. Not one bit.
"Stay clear of matters beyond kid games," the masked man repeats, his voice like ice shards. He's not even looking at me, his attention fixed on Apemon.
"Kid games? You think this is a game?" I step forward, planting myself between him and Apemon, my voice sharp with suspicion. My breath comes in ragged gasps, but I won't back down. "Who are you? And why are you controlling him?"
He finally turns his masked gaze on me, and though I can't see his eyes, I feel their weight. It's cold, pragmatic, and utterly dismissive. "My name is of no consequence to you. And I don't control him; we have an understanding." He gestures vaguely towards Apemon, who shifts uneasily, a low rumble vibrating in its chest. "This world is rife with corruption, a rot that festers beneath the surface. Sometimes, you need a stronger hand to cleanse it. To forge something new from the ashes."
His words are laced with a bitterness that chills me. He speaks of purging, of order, but his tone is unsettlingly pragmatic. It's not about justice; it's about control. "And Apemon is your tool for this… cleansing?" I challenge, my jaw tightening. "You think you can just waltz in and start tearing things down?"
He lets out a low, humorless chuckle. "Someone has to. The hierarchies are broken, rotten. They need to be razed. And those who survive the purge, those with grit, they'll be the ones to build something real." His posture is unyielding, like coiled steel, and the air between us crackles with unspoken menace. I stand my ground, my gaze locked with his masked one, a silent war of wills unfolding in the dust-choked warehouse. He's not going to back down, and neither am I.
The acrid sting of smoke bombs hits my lungs like a physical blow, instantly engulfing the area in an impenetrable gray haze. It billows out from the feet of the masked man, a choking, suffocating cloud.
"Apemon, move!" his voice, muffled by the smoke, cuts through the sudden chaos.
I cough violently, shielding my eyes with my arm. Renamon, usually so poised, lets out a distressed yelp and scans the swirling fog, her ears swiveling frantically, trying to pinpoint their escape route. But the trail is gone, swallowed by the smoke and the sheer speed of their retreat. The heavy thudding of Apemon's footsteps fades, swallowed by the sudden, eerie quiet that descends upon the warehouse.
"They're gone," Renamon murmurs, her voice laced with frustration. She shakes her head, dislodging dust motes from her golden fur.
My own frustration boils over, a hot, angry wave. We were so close. I turn my attention back to the dazed civilians, their faces pale and streaked with dirt. Renamon is right beside me, her usual calm replaced by a tense readiness.
"Come on, we need to get everyone out of here," I say, my voice tight. I help a shaky woman to her feet, my resolve steeling with each gentle nudge. The environment around us, once just a dusty warehouse, now feels like a tomb, the eerie quiet punctuated only by the distant, growing wail of approaching sirens. It's a stark reminder that even though they've escaped, our work isn't done.
***
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