Chapter 137: The Wrath of Myotismon
Myotismon had been in a rather excellent mood lately.
Although he had suffered a significant setback at the hands of the DigiDestined during his initial campaign, every single piece of his grand design had fallen perfectly into place the moment he crossed over into the Human World.
That so-called strongest nation in the human realm, the one that constantly broadcasted itself as the ultimate beacon of civilization, was nothing more than a hollow facade draped in a thin, glittering veneer. Beneath that polished surface of democracy and progress lay a concrete jungle of refined selfishness. It was a society built on barbaric plunder, driven by chaotic disorder and insatiable greed.
Sitting across from their highest-ranking politicians, watching their greedy eyes dart back and forth, Myotismon even developed the brief, amusing illusion that he was not actually all that evil.
Be that as it may, their absolute willingness to treat their own civilians as expendable resources—cattle to be squeezed dry and discarded at will—was accelerating his plans far beyond his initial projections.
He only had to dangle the bait. A promise of overwhelming strength. A whisper of eternal life. Combined with his unique talents for mental manipulation, the human leaders folded without a second thought.
In just a few short days, they had already begun drafting and applying nationwide policies, actively encouraging humans to partner with Digimon.
On another front, Oikawa Yukio was proving his worth. With Myotismon pulling the strings from the shadows, the human scientist had fully unleashed his repressed talents. The glow of monitors and the frantic clacking of keyboards filled Oikawa's laboratory day and night. Although he was still a long way from generating true, living Digimon from scratch, Oikawa had successfully coded digital beasts. They were crude, lacking true intelligence or free will, but they were functional weapons.
Everything was progressing in a flawlessly positive direction.
For the undead lord, the sensation of absolute control was as deeply refreshing as slipping on a brand-new pair of tailored clothes on New Year's morning. The sheer euphoria of his impending victory made him want to throw his head back and hum a triumphant melody.
However, it was at the absolute peak of this intoxicating high that a message arrived, shattering his good mood and replacing it with a cold, suffocating rage.
It concerned the subordinate he had left in charge of managing his stronghold in the Digital World.
Deathmon.
He had been killed.
Under normal circumstances, Deathmon's strength was nothing spectacular. If this had happened in the past, Myotismon would not have batted an eye at the loss of such a mediocre pawn.
After all, the flow of time between the Human World and the Digital World used to be vastly different. A single minute in the human realm equated to roughly an entire day in the digital plane. Following that logic, the few short days Myotismon had spent in reality meant that over a decade had passed back home. In ten years, power struggles and assassinations were entirely ordinary occurrences.
But that law no longer applied.
This was a fundamental shift Myotismon had noticed shortly after breaching the dimensional barrier. The time dilation between the two worlds was correcting itself at an astonishing, violent speed. Now, the flow of time had almost reached complete synchronization.
In other words, Myotismon had barely stepped out of his front door before his home was completely ransacked.
, Deathmon was not just a convenient manager. He was a carefully cultivated piece of livestock. Myotismon had planned to use the data of that subordinate as essential sustenance to push his own power to the absolute pinnacle in the near future.
His sudden, premature death threatened to unravel a massive portion of his arrangements in the Digital World.
Since Oikawa Yukio had not yet perfected the creation of artificial Digimon, Myotismon still heavily relied on transporting a steady stream of expendable resources from the Digital World to the human side. Without a warden to manage the castle, that supply line would shatter.
To prevent his current, highly favorable situation from collapsing into ruin, the vampire lord had no choice but to temporarily abandon his work in the human realm and return.
Digital World. Myotismon's Castle.
"I need an explanation."
The voice was quiet, yet it echoed through the massive, stone-carved throne room like a death knell.
"Why did that fool Deathmon die?"
Looking down from his elevated position, Myotismon maintained his usual aristocratic coldness. Not a single muscle in his pale face twitched, but his tall, imposing body radiated an aura of extreme, crushing oppression. The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the metallic scent of ozone and dread.
Facing their master's question, the gathered Digimon huddled together in the center of the hall. They exchanged terrified glances, their bodies trembling so violently that their armor and claws clattered against the stone floor. Several opened their mouths, desperate to offer an excuse, but the suffocating fear of Myotismon's punishment clamped their throats shut. They ultimately swallowed their words, choosing the safety of silence.
Just as Myotismon's eyes narrowed, his patience snapping as he prepared to randomly select a few unlucky victims to vent his boiling anger upon, a high-pitched, grating voice broke the silence.
"R-report, King Myotismon!"
A small purple creature pushed his way to the front of the trembling crowd. Impmon forced his facial muscles into a wide, sycophantic grin, desperately trying to suppress the absolute terror hammering in his chest.
"It was Gatomon! It was Gatomon who did it! She took advantage of the moment Deathmon was severely injured, gathered a group of filthy rebels, and launched a cowardly sneak attack on him! That is why Deathmon lost his life!"
Seeing that Myotismon did not immediately strike him down, Impmon puffed out his chest, his grin widening as he tried to curry favor.
"King Myotismon, I saw it coming a long time ago! I knew that Gatomon was absolutely no good! We should have finished her off ages ago!"
Looking down at the insignificant, rambling little runt before him, Myotismon remained completely silent. The heavy quiet stretched on for a long, agonizing moment before the vampire lord's lips curled into a dangerous, razor-thin arc.
"Oh. Impmon." His voice was smooth, dripping with a deadly kind of velvet. "So, according to you, you had long realized that Gatomon harbored thoughts of rebellion?"
"Yes, King Myotismon!"
Completely oblivious to the sudden, freezing drop in the room's temperature and the shifting aura around his master, Impmon continued to ramble, waving his small arms to emphasize his point. "After all, I am King Myotismon's most loyal and observant Digimon! I can tell at a single glance when someone is plotting that kind of bad thing..."
"In other words," Myotismon interrupted, his tone dropping to a lethal whisper, "you had long guessed that this exact situation would happen, yet you took absolutely no preventive measures to stop it?"
The sycophantic grin froze on Impmon's face. His jaw dropped slightly.
Before his small brain could even process the fatal flaw in his own logic, the air cracked.
A blinding flash of scarlet light lashed out from Myotismon's fingertips.
The blood whip struck with the force of a falling meteor. Caught completely off guard, Impmon's small body was violently launched backward. He soared through the air, crashing heavily into the cold stone floor at the far end of the hall with a sickening thud.
"King Myotismon... cough, cough... why..."
Blood spilled from the corner of Impmon's mouth as he struggled to lift his head. Even though it was merely a casual, effortless flick of Myotismon's wrist, a strike from an Ultimate level was incredibly fatal to a mere Rookie.
At this very moment, his life data flickered, fragile and dim as a candle in a hurricane.
Lying paralyzed on the freezing floor, Impmon's chest tightened with an immense, suffocating sense of grievance.
He had done everything right! He had served King Myotismon wholeheartedly from the very beginning, throwing himself into dangerous tasks and allowing himself to look like an utter fool just to prove his loyalty.
But... why? Why was King Myotismon always so ruthlessly cruel to him?
He shifted his blurry gaze toward the center of the room. The colleagues he joked with, the Digimon he chatted with on ordinary days... every single one of them had backed away, putting as much distance between themselves and his broken body as possible. They looked at him like he was a plague-bearing corpse.
Confusion, deep grievance, and agonizing pain twisted together in Impmon's heart.
"Why? You have the nerve to ask me why?"
Myotismon slowly descended the steps of his throne, his leather boots clicking against the stone.
"My time is incredibly precious. What I require are capable Digimon who can actually solve my problems, not worthless trash who dance around showing off their supposed intellect in front of me like a cheap clown!"
Myotismon raised his hand again. The scarlet energy crackled and hissed, forming a second, thicker whip of blood.
"In the end, you are nothing but a piece of garbage Rookie. Since you are utterly useless to me, then do me a favor and die!"
"King Myotismon...!"
Watching the glowing crimson whip snap toward his face, bringing the promise of absolute deletion, Impmon let out a miserable wail. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing his broken body for the end.
However... the agonizing deletion he expected never arrived.
A sharp crack echoed through the hall, followed by the sound of sizzling data, but it did not hit him.
With a trembling breath and a head full of confusion, Impmon slowly pried his eyes open.
A familiar, slender figure filled his vision.
It was BlackGatomon.
She stood firmly between his battered body and the towering vampire lord. Her small paws were planted on the stone, her back straight as she took the brunt of the fatal blow meant for him.
Impmon's breath hitched. His chest tightened, a chaotic mix of deep emotion and sheer terror gripping his data core.
He was moved beyond words. They had not known each other for very long, yet she was the only one willing to step out of the crowd. She had thrown herself into the path of certain death to protect him when the rest of the world had turned its back.
But that warmth was immediately swallowed by terror. He was terrified that BlackGatomon's reckless interference would only invite an even more gruesome execution from their master.
After all, Myotismon's cruelty was legendary. He forgave absolutely no one.
Just as Impmon feared, watching a mere Champion level block his strike caused the dark, oppressive aura swirling around Myotismon's body to deepen significantly. The shadows in the room seemed to stretch and twist toward her.
"Interesting..."
Myotismon lowered his hand slightly, his pale eyes locking onto the dark feline.
"You are... BlackGatomon, right?"
"I salute you, King Myotismon."
Standing directly in the crushing pressure of the vampire lord's aura, BlackGatomon acted as if the deadly tension in the room did not exist at all. She lowered her head, offering him a perfectly executed, elegant bow.
In the dim, oppressive space of the throne room, only those dark golden eyes continued to flicker with a calm, bewitching light.
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