./Parable/01_Speed_Matters

Travel through The Weave is tedious.

The corridors connecting the floating nodes are made up of a large number of unidirectional ‘streams’, and bar a few unique Digimon such as Submarimon or MegaSeadramon which can to an extent control the speed of traversing the streams, or in the latter case even travel upstream if they so choose; once entered we are at the mercy of the stream to take us to the next node at whatever speed and turbidity they so choose. Luckily, travel is generally not too long - a day at most in most cases. Though this can vary significantly, for the nodes of The Weave are not locked in position, instead floating randomly in all three dimensions. Thus, while The Weave is often considered to take a thousand or so cycles of walking continuously to go from one side to the next - assuming it was all walkable terrain, across in all directions, its shape has varied over time - sometimes almost perfectly spherical, other times oblong, or even almost folding on itself.

I left Upsilon-20, the node on which Ezeren is located, about ten or so cycles ago. One cycle is the full period from one sunrise to the next. Upsilon-20 is a small node - a mere cycle or two’s walking distance from one side to the other, known to outsiders as the Ring City ever since the calamity hollowed out a large chunk of its heart. It is a wound I am all too familiar with.

But my home is safe, for now. We rebuilt what we could, and for a time, I defended its single connecting corridor with all that I had. Defense alone, however, is a failing strategy. Evil Digimon are present across The Weave, and when they overtake entire nodes, those nodes become spawning bases that must be eradicated. Otherwise, the incursions of hostile Digimon would be endless, even more so than they had been. It was why the elders of the Ring City, in agreement with what was left of the great heroes aside from Podarge, agreed to launch an offensive strategy - some of us must go hunting, to strike at the roots of evil.

Being able to digivolve into Minotarumon, I have the power to be that hunter. I still remember the day I received the instructions. I was at the ancient ruins at the base of the connecting corridor, amidst broken pillars and half-buried glyphs from millennia ago, when the messenger arrived to deliver the instructions. Around a quarter of us were to be sent out, and I accepted my mission willingly, for I had long understood that my role as a protector must be extended to the entire world.

My current target was a minor node called Tau-17. It was an offshoot node like my home node, with a single corridor serving as the single point of entry and exit, just like with Upsilon-20. Intel reported that a small band of Gizamon was terrorizing the disparate villages there, mainly stealing food from the villagers.

Upon arrival, I immediately understood how this was happening. The corridor portal opened onto a landing perched on the side of a mountain, overlooking almost the entire node. From up high, I could see seven villages located across the land, most situated within hovels carved into hills or low mountains, but two just sat there in the middle of the grasslands, not even any fencing of any kind in sight. No wonder they were so easily assaulted.

I made my way down a path carved into the side of the mountain. The overgrowth was a clear indication that the path was rarely trodden, which drove home the idea that neither the feature nor its inhabitants were of any particular interest to the wider Digital World. That was good - it also implied the Gizamon were likely straightforward brigands that were simply taking advantage of the meek, nothing particularly scary. I should be able to dispatch the enemies quickly and return to hunting down more dangerous foes.

It took a while crossing the grasslands to reach the first village, and as I neared it, the lack of any taller inhabitants was a clear indication that the villagers did not comprise anyone of higher stages. Gizamon, bestial and malicious as they were, should not pose true threats to any Digimon if there were a Champion species or higher.

The first Digimon I saw was a bicolor mammalian Rookie, dorsally orange-yellow and ventrally white-beige. It was a Patamon, a Digimon capable of limited flight thanks to its wing-like ears. When I arrived, it was flying around in circles, looking particularly worried. Below, a Gotsumon knelt next to an Elecmon. The former represented a relatively stout homunculus made of rocks, around the same height as I in Shamamon form. The latter was a quadrupedal mammalian Digimon, with a red color base and blue-purplish streaks all over its body. The latter also had a large gash across its body, which explained why it was sprawled across the ground, unconscious.

Upon seeing me, the Patamon and Gotsumon immediately shifted into defensive stances, immediately ready to do battle. For a moment, I was puzzled. Then I remembered both that I was a virus attribute Digimon, and that I did, after all, have a club tied to my back that could seem rather threatening to particularly peaceful Digimon, such as these.

“Do not fear,” I stated, holding out both hands. “I am Anurak of the Ring City. I am here to hunt down your assailants.”

Their combative facial expressions softened somewhat, but it was clear both Digimon were still on high alert, not ready to drop their guard. It was admirable, but also terribly inconvenient. From the corner of my eye, I noticed smaller Digimon, either In-Training I or In-Training II, hiding in the shadows of the doorframes of the few huts that comprised the village, the buildings themselves showing signs of damage. Clearly, the Gizamon had only recently been here.

“Look, I don’t have time. You all can take care of your wounded and your village. I just need to know where they went, so I can go after them. The sooner, the better. Hey, maybe I can even take back some of what was taken if you stop dillying dallying.” It may sound harsh, but it was a necessity. There were still more evil out there to vanquish, and I simply could not waste time like this. “Come on, let’s go. Maybe I can even recover what was stolen. But you must speak. Now. Stop wasting ticks.”

It took a few more tense ticks, moments that felt like ages, before the Gotsumon spoke, finally. “They went in that direction.” He said, pointing eastwards towards a mountain range. “They’ve made their home there. They left not too long ago, about two phases, give or take.”

While being cooperative, the Gotsumon’s tone clearly betrayed a combination of emotions - fear, anger, frustration, disdain, confusion, disapproval, and hope - all at once. I could not care less, however. One cycle was made up of 20 phases, and each phase was made up of 50 syncs, with each sync made up of 50 ticks - the smallest unit of time in this world. I could walk around a length every ten ticks, so the enemy was around ten lengths out if they were trekking at a leisurely pace - and why would they not, when they were so entirely unopposed?

The sun was high in the sky, which meant about half the cycle had gone by. However, that also meant there was plenty of time for me to catch up to the bandits before the sun set.

“Thank you. See, that was not too hard, was it?”

With that remark, I turned and sped off, leaving the village quickly behind. I cared not for what the villagers may have said as I left, if they said anything at all. I must catch up to the Gizamon as soon as possible.

Gizamon were quadrupedal, with webbed feet and razor-sharp, ventrally facing plates jutting from their backs. Typically, their weight causes them to imprint their tracks quite distinctly into the ground. Still, the lush grassland was working against my favor, erasing traces of the Gizamon with its vibrancy. Eventually, though, 

I did find a single piece of meat weighing down a blade of grass.

More than just clear evidence that I was on the right track, it was also going to help me find the Gizamon much more easily. My species name was not Shamamon for nothing.

Holding up the piece of meat in one hand, I held the other up and made a series of signs as I closed my eyes and chanted. Soon data began to rise from the piece of meat like wisps of smoke from tinder, quickly collecting into a small dense cloud.

As I opened my eyes, the dense cloud formed into a miniature version of Podarge, about a hand’s width in height. This was a specialty of mine, a skill called Shama Spirit Caller. Despite its name, I did not call Podarge’s spirit or anything like that. Instead, this was a local spirit that would take on the shape of someone I know, in my case very often Podarge for her impact on me.

“Show me the way.” I said to the spirit, and it began to float off. This was a nifty skill, but it did have its limits. The connection between an object and its previous owner must not have been severed, and for now that meant a timeframe of 70 or so ticks. Any longer than that and the spirit-calling would have failed. It was why I was in such a hurry.

Luckily, sprinting at top speed, allowed me to catch up significantly to the Gizamon. There were plenty of instances when it became clear I had veered off course, but now with a spirit guide, that should no longer happen. I rushed off, following the scent.

The cool blades of grass continued to brush against my legs and torso, though as I progressed further and further, the environment became more and more fleeting, more inconsequential. I was tunnel-visioned on my targets. I could almost picture what they were doing right now in my head, likely camped out at a small lake or pond, enjoying the spoils of their crimes.

What do you know.

Cresting over a grassy ridge, I saw them. A pack of six Gizamons, indeed camped out by the waters. Three were rummaging through some worn sacks, two were half submerged in the shallow waters, and one was on the lookout, turning left and right, as it continuously scanned the area.

Without another thought, I clambered over the crest, and began rushing down the distance towards the group of Gizamon. It did not take long for the sentry Gizamon to notice me, but it was all too late for them. The moment I started my charge, I was already transforming. Crimson red veins of DigiMoji appeared crisscrossing my body, spread and spreading until my entire body was engulfed in red, all the while I was coming downhill. One moment a small Shamamon foot was touching the ground, the next step was a bestial, muscular foot. To the Gizamon who was just noticing my descent, surely time seemed to have stood still as they saw me Digivolve before their very eyes.

The moment between forms is always particularly vulnerable, but I did not care. Starting my charge as a Shamamon meant I was building speed faster, and by the time I reached the sentry - still frozen in shock and awe, I was emerging as my Minotarumon form, my Shamamon club had engulfed my hand and turned into my Demon Arm.

And before this Gizamon could indeed react, I had connected with its face with my Demon Arm. The overwhelming force rippling through its body crushed its cells, breaking the cohesion of its data, rending it apart, turning it into a red mist of phase electrons in a snap, before dissipating.

Without stopping, I immediately moved towards the group of three rummagers just as they were entering into combat stance, and the two in the waters were clambering out. Nonetheless, the fear on their faces were apparent - they probably could not imagine their comrade could die so easily, just from a single strike. Reality was, the matchup was overwhelmingly in my favor. Sure, we were all Virus attributed Digimon, but I knew Gizamon were vulnerable to the element of Earth, which just happened to be what my Demon Arm strike was - hence why it was called Darkside Quake, at least based on the analysis of my DigiCode by the Analysts. Combined with my generation being one higher than them, and that I probably had far more combat experience to hone my body and skills, this was going to be a very simple pest control situation.

One of the Gizamons launched itself up into the air at me, but I was quick to respond with a thundrous strike of my Demon Arm once again, shattering it into digital dust. The remaining two cowered back slightly, into a slightly more defensive position - but that only delayed their deaths by just a few ticks, before I got to them and thrusted my Demon Arm at them both.

They were able to quickly hop up and sideways to dodge the attack - but alas, I was not aiming at them - I was aiming at the very ground on which they stood, and the moment my Demon Arm connected with the ground, the massive impact not only launched significant debris into the air, but sent shockwaves rippling through the air itself, through the Gizamon and knocking them aside, throwing them into disarray. They both fell down with a thud, disoriented and disheveled. I grabbed one by the neck with my right hand, my fingers firmly and unyielding pressing down upon it as I lifted it up, flailing and struggling, desperately trying to escape. To no avail.

I drew my left arm back, then launched it at the Gizamon’s face. The Demon Arm connected, and the Digimon was no more.

I turned towards the remaining Gizamon on the ground, who was straining to drag itself away, but I was on it before it could get far. Another thundrous boom, and another Gizamon was gone.

There were only two, who were in their environment and have swam all the way to the middle of the shallow luck, their spines still showing above the water.

I was not as nimble in this form as my Rookie form, but the Minotarumon form did have its own advantages. With a single leap, I cleared the entire distance between myself and the submerged Gizamon, landing somewhere just off to the side. Sure, the leap was not very precise - it was hard to aim something like a jump after all, especially when the launchpad was uneven ground ruptured by my strikes - but it was close enough.

Bulky and heavy as I was, the mass that was my body landing into the water not only displaced a significant amount, but the impact itself sent shockwaves through the lake, casting the swimming Gizamon aside, disorienting them, albeit only slightly. Gizamon were at home in the water after all. Nonetheless, it was just enough time for me to orient myself and wade through the waters, punching one into oblivion, and barely managing to grab the other by a hindlimb before it could get away.

Holding it up, it was fighting back for a moment, trying to slip away, but once it realized my grip was far too strong, and its strike incapable of actually reaching anything beyond my forearm, the Gizamon went limp, giving up.

Finally, it was time for some question. “How many of you are left?” I asked.

“Ten thousand.” It replied. “Or maybe none, who knows.”

I raised my Demon Arm up, ready to strike, but I could see that the Gizamon’s expression remain unchanged. Seemed like this one has accepted death.

“Go ahead, do it. Kill me. Feel free.” The Gizamon goaded, clearly having realized withholding information was the only way to get a win over me at this point.

Oh, but it was not going to win.

Slowly, I waded back towards shore, all the time gripping the Gizamon tightly all the way. At some point it was flailing and trying to get away again, but not for long when it realized my grip had not changed at all the entire time.

Once back on shore, and having moved quite a bit more distance further in land, raised the Gizamon in front of it, staring at it intently.

“What? Got something on my face or something?”

Crimson red DigiMoji crisscrossed my entire body again, until it had de-materialized into a mass of red phase electrons. This time, it was a de-Digivolution. As my form shrunk and my strength reduced away, my grip on the Gizamon loosened, but I tried to hold on for as long as possible until it was clear I was only a few ticks away from re-materializing fully. That was when I finally dropped the Gizamon, as my form began to shrink. The Gizamon fell on its head with a clunk, and once it was staring at me again, it was staring at my Shamamon form, my club held high. Another thunk. This time, it was my club coming down hard on one of the Gizamon’s forelimbs.

The Gizamon screamed out in pain as the nails on my club dug into its paw, and then again as I withdrew my club with a twist, causing even more damage on its way out. Before the Gizamon could tend to its mangled paw, I brought my club down again, this time into its other forelimb.

Now, the Gizamon was not going to get away, not quickly.

“How many of you are left?” I asked.

The Gizamon launched into a tirade of expletives. I waited for a few ticks, before walking over to the side, my club once again raised. For a moment, the Gizamon did not notice - but when it did, fear clearly played across its face, and its stance completely changed. Pleading, begging, but once again, my club went down, and now it was down to a single undamaged hindlimb.

Another series of expletives, but then a raised club reminded the Gizamon of what was more important.

“I’ll tell! I’ll tell!” The Gizamon begged, its voice cracking. “There’s none left, none left! It’s just me! Please!”

I brought down my club again, towards its body this time, and the Gizamon continued to repeat the same thing, albeit more incoherently. That led me to stop just shy of actually hitting. The Gizamon, who was wincing, opened its eyes fully, panting, shrinking inwards, a shell of its former self.

I raised my club up and away. “That was the truth, then.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” The Gizamon affirmed desperately. It pleaded and begged, again and again reiterating its truthfulness.

That was all that I needed. I moved back towards the front of the Gizamon, staring down at its tearful face. In Shamamon form, I was not all that much taller than the Gizamon, but I am sure right then it seemed like I was a towering giant.

I raised my club and brought it down into the Gizamon’s face. Again, and again, and again, and again, until the screams stopped and the Gizamon was definitively lifeless.

I double-checked the Gizamon just in case, and then gently placed my club down to go gather the sacks of items, which contained a bunch of apples and meat. With them all tied together, I started dragging them, slowly, but surely, back towards the village that I had only just left a few syncs back.