Chapter 31: Do What You Believe Is Right
Is a battle fought to bring about change?
Or is it fought so that one will not be changed?
...
Andromon stood in silence, his optical sensors fixed on the Digimon who had once again reverted to her dark form. He slowly, quietly, accepted the reality before him.
While this outcome wasn't what he had initially envisioned, it was not without its merits. A LadyDevimon whose mind was whole, whose loyalty was absolute... in some ways, she might be an even more suitable partner for Mizuki than the one he had hoped for.
With that thought, Andromon ceased his contemplation. He shifted his heavy gaze from LadyDevimon, letting it settle upon the young man who had made all of this possible.
"Mizuki... the child chosen by fate..." his synthesized voice rumbled, heavy with meaning. "I know your heart is filled with questions about the future. But before we address them, allow me to reveal my true form."
The moment the words left his speaker, Andromon's metallic body began to glow with a blinding, incandescent light. A maelstrom of data chains, shimmering with every color of the digital spectrum, erupted around him. His form twisted and warped within the vortex of information, shrinking and elongating, until the light finally receded, revealing a Digimon in the shape of a magnificent golden sword.
Andromon... Ultimate Evolution!
Durandamon!
"—!"
Mizuki's eyes widened. The Andromon before them hadn't evolved into his direct successor, HiAndromon, nor the fearsome Machinedramon. He had become Durandamon, the wielder of the legendary title, 'The Holy Sword'.
Even with his foreknowledge of the Digimon world's web-like evolution paths, and knowing that this route was technically possible for Andromon, Mizuki couldn't suppress a jolt of genuine surprise. On reflection, however, it made a certain kind of sense. This particular Andromon had always displayed a level of power and awareness far exceeding the one from the original story.
"Andromon... was an Ultimate all along?!" LadyDevimon gasped, her voice a mixture of shock and awe. The realization that she had just been fighting a hidden powerhouse of that caliber sent a fresh wave of astonishment through her.
Andromon—no, he was Durandamon now.
As if sensing their thoughts, a deep, resonant voice emanated from the blade itself. "The form of Andromon was merely a shell, a means to conceal my true power and identity," Durandamon explained. "It was all in preparation for the arrival of the Chosen One."
His unseen gaze seemed to lock onto Mizuki. "With your intelligence, Mizuki, you must have already guessed the nature of the existence that chose you, haven't you?"
"Just as I thought..." Mizuki murmured, the final piece of the puzzle clicking into place. Durandamon's words confirmed the theory that had been solidifying in his mind. "The Constant."
Unexpectedly, voicing the name aloud seemed to lift a significant weight from his shoulders. The unknown was now known.
"So, what does The Constant want from me?" Mizuki asked, his voice steady. "To save this world?"
In response, Durandamon offered neither confirmation nor denial. Instead, the floating sword seemed to look deep into Mizuki's soul for a long moment. Then, with a final, brilliant flash, its form shifted again, solidifying into a beautifully crafted longsword that plunged point-first into the scorched earth before him.
"Durandamon... he turned into a sword?" LadyDevimon asked, her wings twitching with curiosity.
"To be precise, this is the true form of 'The Holy Sword'," Mizuki explained, his eyes tracing the elegant lines of the weapon. "There's a special class of Digimon whose evolutionary purpose isn't to become a powerful individual, but to become a powerful weapon."
He gestured to the blade. "Durandamon, who holds the title of 'The Holy Sword', is considered the pinnacle of all weapon-type Digimon capable of this transformation."
"Does that mean he's the strongest sword in the Digital World?" LadyDevimon pressed, intrigued.
"I wouldn't go that far," Mizuki said, a subtle, wry twist to his lips. "At least, not from what I remember. The Digital World has quite a few ridiculously powerful 'swords'."
His mind briefly drifted. It was true that Durandamon was officially designated as the strongest among weapon-type Digimon that could become swords. But did that specific category include Owryumon, who could transform into the 'Ultimate War Blade King Dragon Sword'? Or what about Omnimon, whose arm could literally become the 'Omega Blade'? If you counted them, could Durandamon still truly claim the top spot?
'Ah, well,'he thought with a sigh.'It's best not to think too hard about Digimon's official settings. They're full of contradictions.'
Just as he was internally grumbling about the lore he'd memorized before his reincarnation, Durandamon's voice echoed from the blade, fainter now, more distant.
"Mizuki... take me."
"To become The Holy Sword, to be wielded by you... this is my mission."
"Now... my mission is finally complete..."
Hearing the life draining from Durandamon's voice, Mizuki's thoughts snapped back to the present. Something was wrong. "Durandamon, what are you saying? What's happening to you?"
But Durandamon seemed to have no intention of answering. He continued, as if reciting a final, sacred message. "Lord... The Constant... gave me no specific orders."
"It only instructed me to tell you this: 'Just do whatever you want to do'."
"'Do what you believe is right'..."
With those final, echoing words, the presence within the sword vanished. A deep silence fell over the clearing.
Mizuki stepped forward and wrapped his hand around the hilt. He pulled, expecting immense resistance, but the blade slid from the earth with impossible ease. It was not nearly as heavy as it looked. As he gave it an experimental swing, it felt light as a feather, yet possessed a tangible, obvious substance.
"Mizu..." LadyDevimon walked to his side, her crimson eyes fixed on the ornate longsword in his hand. "Andromon—no, Durandamon... is he...?"
"Yes," Mizuki confirmed, his voice soft. He could feel it, or rather, the lack of it. The consciousness was gone. "He's gone. This is just a sword now."
He ran a thumb over the cool metal of the crossguard. "To forge the ultimate weapon, Durandamon sacrificed his own Digicore."
"This..." A wave of complex emotions washed over LadyDevimon. She felt a thrill of joy that Mizuki had gained such a powerful weapon, but it was tinged with a deep regret for the fate of the Digimon who had guided her, who had tested her.
In the end, unable to reconcile the conflicting feelings, she pushed them aside. All that mattered was that this was good for Mizuki. That was enough.
As for Mizuki himself, he held no illusions. He didn't believe he possessed some magnetic charm that would inspire an Ultimate-level Digimon to make such a sacrifice for him. With The Constant pulling the strings from behind the curtain, he could only surmise that the challenges awaiting him would far surpass the world-saving quest undertaken by Tai and the other DigiDestined.
But he wouldn't shrink from it.
After all, his very life was a second chance granted by this strange new reality. To do something for this world in return... that was more than acceptable.
And as for the grand concepts of fate and destiny, of plans laid by unseen powers?
Mizuki didn't believe in them. But he also wasn't so arrogant as to deliberately act contrary to them just to prove a point. Be it divine will, karma, or destiny, in the end, it didn't matter. He would only do what his own reason, his own heart, told him was the right thing to do.
That was all.
His gaze returned to the holy sword in his hand.
'Still,'a new thought surfaced,'when I'm not using it, couldn't it be a little less conspicuous? Maybe transform into something more... practical.'
The instant the thought crossed his mind, the ornate, gleaming holy sword shimmered. Its form melted and reformed, shrinking into a plain, utterly unremarkable black parasol.
Mizuki stared at it for a moment, blinked, and then a slow, deeply satisfied smile spread across his face.
"Now this is perfect."
Having suffered from albinism in his past life, his body, though now healthy, still retained a subconscious aversion to direct sunlight. It was the main reason he always wore a jacket. But the sun-blocking properties of the parasol were secondary. What truly delighted him was its potential for camouflage.
He could just picture it: some future enemy, watching him approach with a flimsy-looking parasol, dismissing him as a non-threat. Then, the moment they let their guard down, they would be utterly annihilated by the hidden power of The Holy Sword.
The thought of that future encounter was an incredibly delightful one.
Thinking of this, the smile on Mizuki's face grew wider, a glint of pure mischief in his eyes.
'Hehehe~'
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