Digimon Inheritance: A Heroic Lion's Turbulent Times (Finished)

[] Tell him later once you've had time to think on it a bit. What happened here was somehow familiar.
[] Sparks, Again: You didn't manage to get much out of him about the whole *reincarnation book* this might be a good chance to talk to him while seeing how he's been doing with Weddingmon. It could also be a chance to discuss the whole *Tree* thing. You have a feeling it might have something to do with what happened.

===

After Pit finishes healing everymon up, Galgomon calls you over to help him with the core extraction process. At first you're confused as to why he also directs Wendimon to come help, but everything slides into place once Galgomon bids you both to roll the deceased Ultimate onto its back. Once the two of you have finished flipping the corpse over, he orders you to start cutting open its chest. A gruesome, time consuming task given how the feral has not lost a single iota of toughness but after five minutes and twenty-one seconds of careful swiping, the digimon's inner chest (i.e. inner fleshy bits) have been wholly revealed. The mammalian digimon calls for a halt after that, lest you accidentally hit the core.

Mikemon, Weddingmon and Rinkmon arrive the better part of an hour later, camp supplies in tow. The feline wastes no time in getting to work; donning a pair of artificial claws and picks up where you left off. She steps into the mass of red meat and carefully begins cutting her way through the deceased feral's flesh.

Not wanting to witness the rather sickening sight, you take a look around the area for anything else to do.

"-Blessed Host is responsible for this victory comra-uh, ah! Foe Rinkmon!" Pit Boasts,

"Luck and numbers, nothing more angel! The Gloaming shall lay claim to the next victory... Scum." The armor-digimon glares back, prompting Pit to actually laugh.

"Hyuk, hyuk. Consider the challenge accepted! We under the guidance of our glorious holy Lord will-"

They're... getting along fine?

Next your eye spots Beat and Wendimon conversing near the clearing's edge, though unlike the first two they're not yelling at each other. All you manage to glean is that the Stingmon is agreeing to something, which is a bit worrying, but you hold no illusions about the champion's loyalty. He wouldn't betray any of you.

Still...

You consider trying to find out what exactly is going on between them, then decide it would be more prudent to check up on Sparks given how Weddingmon is sauntering towards him. His whole frightened behavior is more worrying than any conversation between the Lieutenant and Bellator.

The Wizardmon manages to do surprisingly well at *chatting* with Weddingmon. And by that you mean he's only shaking in his boots while the wommon gently coaxes him out from under his hat. As you gets closer, it becomes clear that she's offering him the special cake she'd promised to make earlier. However your friend isn't taking the offered foodstuff, instead he'd just staring at her hands while mumbling incoherently.

"*Cough* Sparks. It is rude to refuse a gift." The one-armed champion flinches at that, dropping his staff and whirling to look at you. You nod in reassurance and he finally moves to take the small plate in hand. His single hand.

"Pas Idiot. Your arm, Désolé, Here let me…" She raises a hand up into the air, prompting a faint glow to pop into existence above her palm. A second later it coalesces into a dark brown fork that smells exactly like a freshly baked cake.

I see. So, she just summons her food into existence? It's not a spell, so an innate ability to convert energy into... sweets? Fascinating.

Using her newly made creation, Weddingmon stabs her gift and then slowly pushes the tiny portion down towards Sparks's mouth.

"Eerk!" Sparks squeaks, taking a step back from the offending tool, but Weddingmon presses forward; grabbing his collar with her free hand to forcefully bring him to a halt. Something almost sinister comes over the assistant's body, a kind deadly seriousness around the act of making him eat.

"Non, you will eat my cooking petit sorcier." You watch in silent fascination as the the two champions struggle against each other, shifting back and forth without upsetting the plate. In the end Weddingmon wins out (mostly thanks to having two arms) and forces the food into his mouth. "Ah, tré bien." She smiles, losing the determined tone. "Now chew." The crippled wizard follows her instructions with an odd subdued slowness. "Swallow."

"Tis good." He mumbles, not daring to look at her.

"Ah, fantastique! Now for the rest!" Sparks turns to give you a pleading look, but you just shrug.

This is for your own good. Find courage.

=

It takes another three minutes and eighteen seconds for Mikemon to emerge from the colossal feral's corpse. However, she's not exactly alone. The feline digimon comes out carrying a dull glassy orb that is literally larger than her entire body. At first you're confused on what that is exactly, but then your memory flashes back to the orb Repulsa had stabbed out of Agnimon's body. Which means...

That... it is Dinobeemon's digicore.

Said memory brings a growl from your throat and for several seconds it's all you can do to struggle against the fires of wrath. When you come back to full control Mikemon is calling her assistant over to: "Help prep bug-boy for surgery."

Which means setting up a large tent to prevent the wind or any precipitation from interrupting the procedure. A wise idea given how delicate the operation surely is. The entire thing piques your curiosity, leading you to question the pair of D-Splicers if it's okay to watch. You half-expect Mikemon to turn you down given how it's a presumably secret process, but...

"Sure thing young mon, take a gander if you want. Mawhaw, you all can!"

"Verily."

"No thank you/No thanks." Pit and Rinkmon reply, before glaring at each other.

It's odd how in-synch they are...

"You have my sincere thanks for the offer, but I must decline." Wendimon says with a shake of his head. "But..." he lumbers towards Weddingmon his left hand vanishing up to the wrist into... something before pulling out a small sealed tube. "As we discussed." Weddingmon nods at that and takes the thermos in hand.

As they discussed? What is that?

Before you can ask, Mikemon calls Beat over and deposits a small white tablet into his hand. According to her, it's a harmless virus meant to put him under for the operation's duration. A precaution to avoid undue movement given how few digimon can withstand the pain of having their chest sliced open. At first your friend resolutely declines, shaking his head. However:

"Bellator Beat. In the Lord's name I order you to take the sedative." The two champions match gazes for a pair of moments before finally your insectoid friend bows his head in acquiescence and lifts the large pill to his head, and the mandibles you now know to be present beneath it.

"Wait kid not y-" The Stingmon flops down unconscious before Mikemon can finish her sentence. "-et. Spirits, so hasty these days." She grumbles, handing Dinobeemon's digicore over to Weddingmon. From there she begins dragging Beat inside the surgery tent. Sparks follows after her, with you poking your head inside the temporary abode last.

The first thing they do is lay him back-first on a flat board, then Mikemon reaches into a bag to take out several tiny rods covered in glowing digi-moji. These are even smaller than the ones she used to preserve Garurumon, not even measuring up to the width or length of your fangs. She wastes no time in driving them down into your friend's armored chest with three on each side of his sternum along with another four split between the torso's top and bottom.

Once the last one goes in Mikemon whispers something that makes the rods glow with faint energy. A pulse runs through your friend's unconscious body, striking the chitin in-between each rod and visibly softening the armor. Which in turn allows Mikemon to effortlessly slice it open with a flick of her paw. Three cuts later and Beat's digicore is revealed, faintly glowing deep within his chest, in sharp contrast to Dinobeemon's dull core.

Weddingmon sets the massive orb down in a dark brown bowl and then carefully pushes another sharp-ended rod into the large sphere. One set of whispers later and the entire thing begins to glow faintly just like Beat's own digicore.

Next up Mikemon carefully lowers a single claw onto the surprisingly malleable surface of Beat's digicore and pulls it back, gently splitting the shell open to reveal a swirling mass of tightly packed data inside. An innumerable number of data strands (or perhaps it's just one strand, you can't really tell) flow in a constant circle.

I see. That is what the inside of a core looks like. Interesting... and disconcerting.

The feline quickly moves on to the far larger core, cutting an incision into it the exact same way. Weddingmon takes over from here, using a long, extremely thin hook to fish out a portion of data from the swirling mass of Beat's digicore and holding it up so her superior can attach two clamps to keep it in place. With that done Mikemon severs the middle in twain, making your friend's core turn an odd red. from there the pair of D-Splicers move over to Dinobeemon's core and fish out a much larger strand. Though this time they don't bother with the claps. After it's been severed, Weddingmon swings the limp strand of raw data over to Beat's digicore and gently attaches it end to end with Beat's data strand using an odd white liquid.

All the while they continue muttering some sort of spell, or spells. It's all too soft for your ears to make out.

They repeated this process eighteen more times, with each successive bonding causing your friend's digicore to continually brighten and expand even while the feral's own digicore dims. You estimate that it increases in both size and brightness by a factor of nearly fifty percent. On the nineteenth bonding Mikemon calls for the process to halt and orders Weddingmon to "Sew'em up."

"Oui maman." Weddingmon nods, creating a dark needle and thread in her hand before carefully piercing the open edge of Beat's swollen digicore. Once it has been sewn shut, Weddingmon grabs the odd tube by the table and begins to unscrew the top.

"What is-"

"Shush. There is delicate work in progress young mon. Don't interrupt her." Sparks glares at the animal digimon, but nonetheless stays silent as Weddingmon carefully pours a black, gleaming substance directly over the Digicore, making sure to coat the entire thing. The steady stream hungrily grapples onto your friend's body, squirming to enter it almost as if it's alive. Beat's body hastily absorbs the odd substance, leaving no trace. Weddingmon lifts the container away once the contents have been released and sews up the edges of Beat's chest. Which in turn allows Mikemon to remove the rods weakening his sternum chitin.

Though... something odd is happening to the green material. Its color is unmistakably starting to change.

His armor, it is growing darker. What path have they set him upon?

"Alright you're done! Now by the Ten what the friggen' heck was that!?"

"Hold your Pegasusmon young'un. He's perfectly fine. All we did was give him some black digitron."

"We do not know what that is."

"Yeah, never heard of that before. Tell me, what 'tis that exactly?"

"It's some viral black gunk from the Dark Island. Known to like override a digimon's body to make them tougher but slower? I've never used it before since it's pretty darn rare. But I've heard about this stuff before and it's perfectly safe for most species to use. Wendimon out there had some and your friend here wanted to use it to make himself tougher."

"I see."

"Wish we could've gotten some friggen warning first. Mine... blegh. Fine."

"It's fine young'uns. We wouldn't put your friend in any danger. Now, he should be up from his nap in an hour or so. So run along now."

"Tch, let's go."

You frown towards the unconscious mon, then back away so Sparks can exit the tent. The two of you are silent for a handful of seconds, with Sparks just angrily gripping his staff as he glares towards the tent. Then you finally remember something.

"Sparks... of the books you purchased."

"Yeah?" He grumbles, moving his fiery look onto you. "What about mine tomes? Did thee wish to converse about High Programming?"

"No." You reply, taking a deep breath to calm a surge of unjust rage at his tone. "Your book on reincarnation. Why?"

"... Hrm? Thine mind must be mis-remembering things."

He's... lying?

You shake your head at that and press on.

"I saw it."

"Hrmph. fine. Yeah, I did buy the stupid thing. Happy?"

"No. My question was why you obtained it." Sparks goes silent at that his fist squeezing tight enough for his staff to groan. And then finally, he look away and growls.

"To bring them back."

Bring them back?

"Gramps, Fu… *sigh* Flamemon."

You momentarily perk up at his statement... then the harsh realities presses back down.

"They're dead. Their data has long since dispersed. Sparks. They're… just... gone." But Sparks shakes his head at that.

"Realized this from you, Lord Pit and Beat; digimon can remember their past lives. Mine book posits that data is rarely destroyed, 'tis just moved. Which includes memories. If we can find a way to track yonder data then… 'twould be possible to find them and... to help Fu." That last part has you blinking in surprise. "Yeah, didn't want to admit it. Realized it from Frigimon's friggen' letters. Only big sis would act like that." A smile comes to your face at the news... which changes into a confused frown as a thought comes up.

But... he hates Agnimon. Why...

"I can see why you wish to see Gramps once more. But Agnimon... the words you spoke of him... Were. Most. Unkind." Your near-snarl makes Sparks stomp his foot and drops his staff so he can take a handful of your forepaw's fur.

"Tch, that stupid *hero* let us all down! If it weren't for him then the village wouldn't have been attacked!" He screams, pulling on your hair. "But spirits below, he was my friend too!" The bubbling anger falls at that, undercut by his final words. "Maybe... it's because of mine own foolishness. But after giving Lord Pit and the Prick a chance, things have been different. I've been remembering the good times from back then. Heh, all our stupid talk of saving others, the time he taught me how to throw a punch…" Tears appear in his eyes, but the Wizardmon staunchly refuses to let them fall.

"Aye. I miss it too. It... was going to be the three of us. All bringing justice to this world." Your scar pulsates with pain, making you shake your head. "But that ideal doesn't matter without power. We must be strong before it's possible to change things." Sparks nods along solemnly.

Considering the conversation done, you turn away to practice meditation, but are stopped by Sparks's voice.

"Verge I…"

"Yes?"

"... nothing. Just, mine thanks for everything." You shoot him a final nod and turn away.

===Half an hour later:

"Alright. I remembered the whole hunt thing. Now friggen' spit it out. Thine unnatural toughness, 'twas reminiscent of what transpired long past in quarry."

"Yes. It was similar but something about it…"

"Twas different?"

"Aye, this time time felt more… complete?" The Wizardmon raises an eyebrow at that and gestures for further explanation. "Right. This was more complete. A word popped into my mind. *Avalon* Last time it was just a feeling." You pause at that. "Both times I felt something, like a presence."

"'Tis most interesting. And what presence is that?"

"..." you frown at the one-armed champion, memories of that root bubbling to the surface. "A tree."

"Erm, what? A friggen' tree?"

"Yes. An enormous, great tree, gigantic almost beyond comprehension. I came across its root while digging a tunnel into that supply fortress"

"Hehe, so. A tree has something to do with this *Avalon* which makes thine body tough."

That sounds… ridiculous?

"You do not believe me?"

"Nah, I do. Just… heh. I implore thee not to spread this information. 'Twould be most unwise at this juncture."

"Why?"

"Whilst we may not possess context others, like our enemies, might."

"I see. Then… what about Beat and Pit?"

"Lord Pit's tongue is still yet loose and the matter concerns him not. As for the Prick… maybe?"

===Choice on whether or not to tell them.

[] Pit & Beat.

[] Just Beat.

[] Neither.

===Authors Note: Beta'd by @TempestK. This one took a while but I'm glad it got it out!