FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A troubled sleep awaited Maximus that night…

Throughout the entirety of the day, he recalled the attack on the village. He failed attempt to save Avanita – the Veedramon who had once been his teacher, helping him and his brother learn how to fight. Xavier, his employer, who paid his wages and managed his schedule. These were people who had helped him – and many others in the village, find their way to a prosperous life…

But worst of all, was the death of Maverick… His brother – nest mates when they were born, growing up together when they had both become DemiVeemon, raised in the Veemon Village. They had been inseparable, facing every challenge together.

Time and again he saw it… Talbot's claws impaling Maverick's chest. He saw Maverick's eyes looking at him desperately in his nightmares, pleading him to save him and failing to do so every time – he knew that this wasn't what happened, but his mind conjured the images in his sleep, seeming intent on torturing him.

To top it off, when he snapped awake from his haunting dreams, he found himself in an alien body… He was still unsure how it happened – what had turned him back into a Veemon, reverting from his Champion stage back to a Rookie-level Digimon.

He had hoped, when he woke up this time, that he might be back to normal – that he'd be an ExVeemon again. But seeing he was still lying in an oversized bed told him otherwise.

As Maximus stared at his hands, he felt tears burning his eyes again. He had thought by now that he'd have had no more to cry but continued to surface. He didn't care when Caram and Raist walked in, nor that they saw him in such a weakened state.

Caram approached cautiously, carrying a bucket between his hands. “We… Brought you some water," he said.

“I'm fine," Maximus lied, wiping his eyes. In truth, he hadn't eaten or drank anything since he'd woken up the day before, thinking he'd be unable to stomach anything.

Caram, wisely, didn't press him, setting the bucket aside. “Maximus… I'm not going to say I understand what you're going through," he said. “I don't know what I'd do if I lost Raist. I-"

“It's not just my brother I lost!" Maximus snapped. “I lost everyone! My whole village is gone – everyone I knew for my entire life is deleted! I watched two of the people who practically raised me get consumed by those wolves; I even saw one of them achieve Digivolution with my former teacher's data!"

He slammed his fists on the bed. “Don't you get it? Everything is gone… My brother is dead, and he's never coming back, and that wretched creep, Talbot… It's all his doing!"

“Talbot?" Caram asked. “The Black WereGarurumon?"

“I heard one of the Loogarmon refer to him by name," replied Maximus. “I'm never going to forget it…" he added through clenched teeth. “Because someday, somehow… I'm going to get my original body back… I'm going to find him…"

He threw back his head and screamed. “ AND I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!"

Caram and Raist left Maximus alone for a while, giving him time to calm himself before they would attempt to talk to him again. When the re-entered the house, the found him sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.

His expression was dark… No joy remained behind those red eyes; his brow was contorted into a deep scowl. But his tears had dried…

As Caram and Raist approached, Maximus didn't look at them, but he still acknowledged their presence by voicing a question. “Why are you still here? There's nothing left for you guys… There's nothing left for anyone."

“We… Don't want you to be alone," the normally quiet Raist answered.

“…Everyone's gone. How much more 'alone' could I be?" Maximus asked, bitterly.

“We want to help you," Caram added.

That earned Maximus' look, turning his head to regard the twins. They could see the seething hatred behind his eyes; they both felt a sense of apprehension as that rage-filled gaze settled on them.

“And how exactly would you do that?"

“Our master might know something – some way that could help you get your body back," Caram offered. “He is wise and powerful, and he… Well…"

“He's seen this phenomenon before, when a Digimon suffers such extensive harm that they're forced to revert back to a previous stage," Raist added.

“Raist!" Caram scolded him. “I don't think we have any right to share that information! That is between Nagata and his sister!"

“Sister?" Maximus asked, arching an eyebrow this time. “Explain… What could they know about why I've turned back into a Veemon?"

At Caram's glare, Raist stayed silent. “It's not our story to tell," said Caram. “But yes, Master Nagata has a sister, and she suffered the same ailment that has befallen you. That's all I will say for now."

“How exactly does this help me?" Maximus asked, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes were equally intense.

“Maybe Master Nagata knows how to reverse it," Caram offered. “That's why we'd like to offer to let you join us, to go see him."

Maximus' gaze fell to the floor, considering the proposal. For a moment, he wanted to refuse, to tell the brothers to leave without him, but the more he thought about it, the more he understood… What did he have to lose?

“Fine," he said finally.

He turned his attention to the bucket of water sitting on the floor where Caram had left it, considering it for a moment before he picked it up, brought it to his lips, and began to drink, swallowing one mouthful after another until he drained the entire bucket, and then let it fall to the floor.

With that, he stood, holding his head high as he regarded the twins. “Lead the way."

"You… Don't want time to think about it?" Raist asked, cautiously.

“There is nothing to think about," Maximus returned. “There's nothing here for me now… If Nagata can help me, and there's a way to return to my original form, then I have to take the chance."

He looked at his hands, scowling as he considered how weak he must be by now, reduced to this tiny, insignificant form as he was. He'd never get his revenge like this; if he attempted to confront Talbot in this body the Black WereGarurumon would effortlessly crush him.

If it was vengeance he wanted – and he knew he did, then this was the only way to achieve it.

“Let's go," he said, turning and walking toward the door, passing between the brothers as he did.

From outside the cottage door, Maximus moved with purpose, heading toward the main road. The twins hurried to catch up, falling into step beside him. Though he was smaller in this form, his stride was unwavering, each step driven by something deeper than strength.

Their path took them past the village ruins. What had once been a thriving home was now a graveyard of memories — shattered timbers, collapsed roofs, and the charred skeletons of homes still smouldering in places. Not a flicker of life remained.

Maximus kept his gaze forward, refusing to acknowledge the destruction. He said nothing as Caram and Raist murmured behind him, taking in the scene with quiet horror. The Veemon pushed onward, jaw tight.

But as they passed the last ruined house and the road began to rise, something inside him faltered.

He stopped.

His feet rooted themselves to the earth, as if the land itself wouldn't let him go. Caram and Raist, several steps ahead, only noticed when silence fell behind them. They turned, finding Maximus still as stone, staring at the grass beneath his feet.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

His eyes turned back to the village. And for the first time since they'd left the cottage, his hardened expression softened — not with peace, but with something like mourning.

He didn't speak. He didn't cry. He simply stood there, letting the wind pass through him as he looked back… knowing it might be the last time he ever saw his home.

Caram and Raist said nothing, letting him take as long as he needed to say his final goodbyes to his home and everyone he'd known. But when he finally turned and stepped over to rejoin him, they didn't miss that a tear had found its way to his eye once again…

~~~~~

Maximus smelled the mirelands long before he saw them. The thick stench of stagnant water, algae, and peat moss clung to the air like a wet blanket, reeking of spoiled fruit rotting in a flooded field.

He rubbed his nose, trying not to gag as the odour grew stronger. When the bogs finally came into view; hazy shapes through a veil of fog and towering reed that made his stomach turn. Algae-choked pools dotted the mossy terrain, and beyond them, he could just make out the drooping silhouettes of weeping willows.

“Disgusting," Maximus muttered, rubbing his nose again. “Why in the world does Nagata live out here?"

“I think he likes the solitude," Raist offered with a shrug.

Maximus shook his head. “Hope he's worth it," he grumbled. “How far is it?"

“About a mile. Straight ahead," said Caram.

Maximus eyed the path ahead. The broken patches of dry land between the murky pools looked uneven at best, seeing no clear way to cross. “How do we get across? Do you guys just… float over?"

“Well… yeah," Caram admitted. “We do. You, uh... might have a harder time."

Maximus gave him a flat look, raising the brow of one of his eyes at the Wizardmon. “You didn't plan for this, did you?"

Caram winced, looking embarassed. “Guess I didn't."

“Not to worry," Raist cut in. “I'll freeze the pools. You can walk across."

Caram brightened at the suggestion. “Hey, good idea, brother!"

Maximus sighed. “Better than nothing," he said. “Any chance we're going to run into something out here? Anything that bites?"

“Maybe a few Insectoid Digimon. A couple Mushroomon get territorial," Caram said. “But most out here keep to themselves. Stick close and you'll be fine."

Maximus rolled his eyes. He wasn't used to relying on others—not since he'd Digivolved into ExVeemon. But now...

He glanced at his smaller hands, his stubby tail. No wings. No claws. Just the rookie form he'd worked so hard to grow out of. It stung his pride, admitting he needed help again.

“Alright… Let's get over there before we lose too much light," Maximus suggested, noting the position of the sun, gauging they had two hours, maybe less, before dusk.

“Good idea," agreed Caram.

Raist stepped forward and gripped his staff with both hands, holding it upright and planting the base into the ground. With that, he called, “Crystal Cloud!" and summoned a small blizzard, summoning a flurry of snow, ice, and shiver-inducing wind that made Maximus hold and rub himself in an attempt to keep warm.

He heard the ice forming as it froze the pools, creating sheets of shining crystal across the marshes, forming atop the many stagnant pools. It didn't reach all the way to the trees, but it covered a respectable distance.

When the ice shower stopped, Raist stepped onto the nearest frozen patch, testing it with his weight. It creaked ominously, but held firm. He gave a small nod to Maximus.

“It should be safe for you to cross now."

Maximus nodded and stepped forward, murmuring a quick thanks. His foot met the ice with caution. Behind him, Raist lifted into the air, hovering just above the path, joined a moment later by Caram. The twins floated ahead, gliding easily, their robes billowing like sails as they cleared the route at a leisurely pace.

Maximus took another step—and nearly wiped out.

His feet skidded out from under him, arms flailing. Only by planting one foot sideways did he catch himself, heart thudding. He let out a breath and set off again, much slower now, planting each step with deliberate care.

The gap between him and the twins widened.

They drifted on, engaged in quiet conversation, their voices indistinct over the squelch and creak of the swamp. Maximus scowled, his arms slightly out to keep balance, the chill seeping through his feet with every step.

This is humiliating, he thought, darkly. He glanced up at the brothers, flying so effortlessly. “Damn, I miss my wings," he muttered, his voice low and bitter.

There was a sudden splash to his right.

Before Maximus could react, something hurled itself at him from the water, slamming into his side and coiling two slick, leathery arms around his torso. The impact knocked the wind from him. Whatever it was, it matched his size and weight—and it stank, a sickly, rotting stench like mouldy compost and spoiled fruit.

“Hungry hand," a voice rasped against his ear.

A sickly green glow pulsed from the creature's arms, and Maximus felt it at once—his strength bleeding away in faint streams of energy drawn from his body and into theirs. His muscles sagged, his breath caught.

No—

He thrashed instinctively, slamming an elbow backward. It connected with something solid and soft—flesh or bark, he couldn't tell—and the grip loosened just enough for him to break free.

The attacker stumbled back onto the ice, and Maximus got a good look.

For a heartbeat, it looked like a Palmon: a bipedal plant Digimon with lanky limbs and a blooming flower atop its head. But something was wrong. The flower was a wilted violet, not pink, its eyes were hollow and dark, and its whole body had a slimy sheen. It reeked of decay.

Maximus didn't know what Digimon this was, but he immediately moved to attack, reflexively calling up the Vee Laser, arms out and chest forward as he had done many times before…

Nothing.

The realization hit him like a stone: he couldn't use it anymore.

That moment of hesitation was all the creature needed. “Entangling Ivy!"

With a snap of its limbs, the Aruraumon launched tendrils from its fingers. They lashed out, fast as snakes, wrapping around Maximus' arms and chest. The vines constricted with cruel precision, locking him in place before he could dodge or break free.

He growled and slammed his fists against them, but the vines held fast. The creature began reeling him in, its feet skimming across the ice as it dragged him closer, inch by inch.

Maximus strained, heels slipping, panic starting to claw its way up his spine.

“Thunder Ball!" Caram's voice rang out, followed by a flash of light. A crackling orb of electricity arced through the fog and struck the unusual Palmon square in the chest.

The plant Digimon screeched and stumbled backward, losing its balance and tumbling into the water with a splash. But the vines didn't release.

Instead, they tightened, pulling Maximus toward the edge. He skidded across the slick ice, grasping for anything—reeds, roots, something—but they broke in his hands, and the ice gave no grip. His feet slid out from under him as the murky swamp loomed ever closer.

Another hand seized his wrist—and at last, Maximus stopped sliding.

“I've got you!" Raist shouted, bracing himself.

Maximus looked up and grunted as the vines around his torso constricted again. He couldn't tell if the Aruraumon was still pulling or if its dead weight was dragging him under. Either way, he wasn't safe yet.

Caram descended in a swift motion and slashed at the vines with the sun-shaped head of his staff. The sharp edges cut through the tendrils one by one until Maximus finally broke free. The severed vines recoiled like worms, slithering back across the ice and disappearing beneath the surface.

“Are you alright?" Caram asked, moving to stand beside him.

“Y-Yeah," Maximus said, panting. “What was that? It looked like a Palmon, but…"

“That was an Aruraumon," Raist said grimly. “A sister-species to Palmon. But this one's Virus-type - and a predator. It feeds on the energy of anything it can snare."

Noticed that, Maximus thought bitterly. He shot the twins a glare. “You didn't say there were things like that out here."

“We didn't know," Caram said quickly. “We always use our magic to levitate over the swamp; we've never had to walk it before. How were we supposed to know something like that was hiding under the surface?"

Maximus growled, frustration boiling over. “Well, that little oversight nearly got me turned into plant food!"

“Don't take it out on us!" Caram snapped back, eyes flashing. “If we'd known, we would've warned you!"

Maximus clenched his fists, ready to fire back—but then stopped. He exhaled through gritted teeth, realizing he was being unfair. “You're right…" he muttered. “I'm sorry. I just… I lost my temper."

Raist stepped in calmly, casting a side glance at his brother to stop any further retort. “You're still recovering. It's natural. And I know you've only just met us, Maximus, but believe me - we're trying to help you."

Maximus nodded slowly. “I know," he said. “…Thank you. That's twice now you've saved my life."

Caram smirked, his irritation already fading. “We'll collect on all those debts later." He looked warily around the mist-choked bog. “For now, let's move before that thing - or something worse - comes crawling out of the muck."

Maximus and Raist both nodded in agreement. This time, when the brothers levitated, they stayed directly above Maximus and did not rush ahead, in case they had any other unwelcome encounters.

~~~~~

Once the trio entered the trees, the air grew even stiller—and far more humid. The warmth clung to Maximus like a wet shroud, coating his scales with a constant, clammy film. He grimaced, wiping his brow.

“Ugh. I feel like my skin's slimy," he muttered. He glanced at Raist and Caram, both draped in thick robes and capes, somehow looking unbothered. “How are you two not melting in those jumpsuits?"

“Didn't say I wasn't," Caram grumbled, rolling his shoulders. “Raist cheats. He's cooling himself off with magic."

Raist gave a lazy twirl of his finger in the air. “Not cheating if it's a skill I've earned."

Caram scoffed. “And yet you never offer to share."

“I'm not a ceiling fan, Caram. Making a bubble of cool air around all of us would take serious energy—and I am trying to stay alert in case something else jumps out of the water."

“So you could help. You just don't want to."

“Oh, come on," Raist said, exasperated. “That's not fair. If I could do it without exhausting myself, I would."

“You haven't even tried."

The familiar rhythm of their bickering brought a small smile to Maximus's face. He said nothing, letting their voices wash over him. It reminded him of sparring matches with Maverick—how they'd argue over tactics, insults flying between blows, but never without a thread of affection under it all.

His chest tightened at the thought of his brother… The weight of the swamp lingered; the stink of rot, the thick air pressing against him. But for a moment, the banter gave him a strange sort of comfort. Maybe not all bonds had to be left behind…

'I miss you, little bro,' he thought – not for the first time, feeling the sting of a tear in his eye again.

“Wait…" Raist suddenly held out his arm, halting the others. His eyes locked onto a tree off to the left, staring so intently it was as if he expected it to move.

“What is it?" Caram asked, his voice low.

“I'm not sure," Raist replied, his gaze unwavering. “I saw… something."

All three turned their eyes to the spot, watching the shadows beneath the twisted branches. For a moment, nothing moved—then Maximus heard a faint rustle from the opposite direction. He spun around, just in time to glimpse a flicker of green slipping behind another tree.

“We're not alone," he said grimly.

A heavy silence fell. Every snapping twig, every shifting leaf now felt like it could mean danger. Maximus glanced back at the tree he'd spotted earlier—and this time, he saw it clearly: one of the vines twitched. It wasn't the wind.

“How far to Nagata's place?" he asked, his voice low and tense.

“About another twenty minutes if we walked," Caram replied. “There's a cottage on an islet ahead. Straight through."

“Then we need to move. Fast," said Maximus. “Something's following us—I can feel it."

“Agreed," Raist said quickly. “This way—go!"

The twins turned and took off, their capes fluttering behind them as they darted through the foggy path. Maximus ran after them, feet slapping against damp roots and slick patches of moss, pushing himself to keep up despite the limitations of his small body.

Then the swamp behind them came alive. Branches rattled. Leaves shook. And from the corner of his eye, Maximus saw a green figure swing through the canopy—long limbs, plant-like form.

Another Aruraumon? No time to be sure. He didn't dare stop to find out. He just ran. He also had the sense it wasn't the only one; he could hear more movement in the trees behind them. If it was another one – or even the same one that had attacked him in the marches, it had come with friends this time.

Fortunately for Maximus, reverting to a lesser form hadn't sapped his stamina. In fact, as he ran, he felt every bit as strong as he remembered being the last time he was a Veemon. All those years of training—of pushing his limits—still echoed in this body, unchanged.

But that was exactly what troubled him.

It had taken that strength to Digivolve in the first place. If he hadn't grown weaker… why had he devolved at all?

He had little time to think about it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Aruraumon had caught up, and saw it swinging at an angle, ready to throw itself out at him. This time, when he felt his instincts flaring – adrenaline pumping through his veins, he mistook it for the prompt to keep running, faster; he did so, narrowly avoiding the plant Digimon as it swung out at him, trying to grab him with its vines, but missing as he kept going.

'Damn it, I can't keep running forever!' he growled. 'But how can I fight like this, in this tiny, useless body?!'

“Up ahead!" Caram shouted. “We're almost there!"

Following where the Wizardmon pointed, Maximus spotted it—a structure, shadowed and still, resting on a tiny island wedged between two gnarled trees. It sat at the heart of a dark, unmoving lake.

With a surge of hope, Maximus pushed harder, his feet pounding across the sodden earth. That had to be it—the sanctuary for which they'd been racing. Relief built in his chest.

He darted for the shoreline.

“Wait, Max—don't!" Raist's voice sliced through the air. “It's not water!"

Too late.

Maximus was already mid-step, legs pumping toward the lake's edge. He tried to halt—skidding in the mud—but his momentum betrayed him. He stumbled, pitched forward, and vanished into the surface with a sickening splat.

Not water.

He came up choking on mud, thick and choking, as the foul taste hit his tongue. The surface that had shimmered like water was a lie—only a thin veil. Beneath it, a sucking, sticky pit of mire clung to him like claws.

Quicksand.

Eyes stinging, Maximus struggled to clear the sludge plastered across his face. The mud licked up his legs and tail, greedy and fast. By the time he could blink clearly, it was already around his abdomen.

“Not good, not good!" he muttered, forcing himself to go still—remembering, somewhere in the back of his mind, not to fight it. Panic would only make it worse.

“Hang on, Maximus!" Caram called, already in the air and moving toward him. “If I can just—agh!"

Something lashed out, interrupting the Wizardmon. A thick, dark-green vine-like appendage whipped down from above, striking hard and fast. It coiled tight around Caram's waist and yanked, the Wizardmon vanishing from sight in an instant, yelping as he was pulled away from the horrified Veemon.

Maximus gasped. “Caram?!" He twisted instinctively to look—but the shift made the quicksand suck tighter, pulling him in another inch. Gritting his teeth, he froze.

Above the squelching of the muck came another sound—shouts, movement, the snap of magic colliding with something living.

“Brother!" Raist's voice cried out, filled with alarm—but Maximus couldn't see him. Only the trees, shadows moving between the branches… and something else watching them.

A trap. They had walked straight into a trap.

Maximus could feel the mire climbing—thick and unrelenting, sucking him down by degrees. His arms twitched instinctively, but every motion only hastened the pull of the swamp. The illusion of water was gone now, replaced by the harsh reality of the cold, viscous muck inching higher and higher.

It was at his chest now. Heavy. Clinging. The chill of it seeped into his skin and bones, a biting cold that made his muscles lock and his breathing shallow. The filmy layer of water skimmed just beneath his chin, rippling slightly with each shuddering breath.

“Raist… Caram…" he whispered. But he already knew they were still fighting, their cries echoing faintly above the swamp; they couldn't help him now…

He tilted his head back, trying to keep his mouth above the waterline as it lapped at his lips. His eyes stung with sweat and muck, but he dared not close them. If he did… if he let go…

No. Not like this.

He gritted his teeth. The urge to thrash, to scream, to do something pulsed through him—but that would only bury him faster. He had seconds left. Maybe less.

His next breath came out a sputter. Mud filled his ears. The waterline reached his jaw. He was sure that this would soon be his end…

Then, a sound. Behind him; a splash.

For an instant, he hoped that maybe one of the brothers were coming to his aid. Until he felt them—tendrils, slick and cold as death, curling around his arms and his chest.

He barely had time to brace before they yanked. The strength of the pull was immense; his legs tore free of the suction with a squelch so loud it popped in his ears. He gasped as air rushed back into his lungs, just in time for the impact as he hit solid ground to drive it from him once again. His back struck the shore with a bruising thud, stars bursting behind his eyelids.

He tried to rise, but something was already climbing onto him. Another Araraumon – or, for all he knew it was the same one that had ambushed him in the marshes. Its weight pinned him down, and its reeking breath curled across his face as it grinned down at him with sick delight. Before he could fight back, he heard it hiss its attack:

“Hungry hands," it said, with sadistic glee.

It came; the same sickening sensation from before—like his life was being siphoned out of him through every nerve. He could feel the strength leaving his limbs His breath came short. The vines tightened, the plant Digimon's long fingers wrapping and coiling like a vice. He snarled and tried to push the creature off, but its limbs had latched onto him like anchors.

The Araraumon only smiled wider, savouring the moment. Its eyes gleamed as it watched him weaken.

His muscles twitched. His vision blurred. Rage flared in his gut.

No. He would not let this happen.

“I am not dying here," he growled through clenched teeth.

With a burst of fury, he snapped his arms up and grabbed it by the head. The Araraumon blinked, its smile faltering—confusion blooming across its face.

Then Maximus pulled himself up, his core muscles straining, and slammed his forehead into the Digimon's face with a crack that echoed through the trees. If it had a nose, he was certain it had just been flattened.

The Araraumon reeled back, stunned—and the draining stopped. Maximus didn't.

He lunged, teeth bared, wrapping his arms around its throat and rolling them over, planting the Araraumon beneath him. With a savage snarl, he drew back his fist—and struck.

Once. Twice. Three times. Each punch tore loose petals and bits of plant matter. The Araraumon shrieked, trying to escape, but Maximus kept going, fists hammering down like thunder.

Then, he stood, ignoring the weakness of his legs to force himself back onto his feet. The vines still clung to him, twitching. With a growl, he grabbed them, all of them clutched between his hands, heaved, and swung.

The Araraumon became a blur, whipping through the air like a spiked flail. Round and round—faster—until the vines snapped, and the plant Digimon was launched high, flailing, before vanishing into the muck of the lake with a distant splat.

Maximus panted, chest heaving. His arms were trembling, not from fear, but from the surge of battle energy crackling through him.

A snarl. He spun. Another Araraumon rushed him with vines already flaring out to snatch him, arms wide open, all but announcing its intention to take him into its grasp and drain him like the previous one.

Maximus didn't hesitate. He dropped low, bent his knees, and leapt, fist drawing back, glowing faintly with power.

“Vee Knockout!"

His punch met the creature's face like a freight train. The momentum stopped cold, and then reversed. With a strangled cry, the Araraumon flew backward, vines flailing, before slamming into a tree trunk with a crack, where it crumpled and slid to the base, dazed.

Maximus landed hard, fists clenched, breath burning in his chest. But his eyes were sharp and blazing with instinct; he already scanning the battlefield, searching for his next opponent.

He spotted them.

Two more of the plant Digimon. At first glance, he thought they were Vegiemon; they had the same gnarled, leafy bodies and dangling vine arms. But these were darker, more twisted. Their eyes weren't red, but a sickly, gleaming yellow. There was something meaner about them. Something worse.

One had its vines coiled around Caram, wrestling the Wizardmon to the ground, trying to wrap a length around his throat to strangle him. Meanwhile in his hands was his staff, currently pushed against the creature, trying to force it off him, unable to concentrate on an attack over its constricting vines around his chest and neck.

Maximus didn't hesitate.

He charged. “Vee Headbutt!" he roared, his head glowing faintly as he threw all his weight behind the lunge.

Crack! He struck the creature squarely in the side, sending it toppling and breaking its grip on Caram. The Wizardmon rolled free with a gasp, coughing, but alive.

Maximus turned to face the plant Digimon he'd knocked away. It snarled at him—low and guttural, like a reptile—and raised its long, green tendrils, waving them threateningly as it glared at the Veemon with feral hunger.

He spat in the dirt and raised his fists. It looked like a Champion-level. Probably was stronger than him.

It didn't matter; so what if he didn't stand a chance? “Bring it on!" he growled, ready to fight.

The creature lunged first, one vine cracking through the air like a whip. Maximus ducked and rolled, narrowly dodging, then sprang up into a leaping punch.

“Vee Knockout!"

His fist struck true, right between the eyes. The Digimon staggered, skidding back—but didn't fall. Its yellow eyes narrowed. It struck back.

Before Maximus could dodge again, vines coiled around him—tight. His left arm was pinned. Then his chest. His neck. He tried to swing his free arm, but the grip only tightened. The plant Digimon yanked him in, snarling, its breath hot and foul. Maximus gritted his teeth as the coils cinched harder.

He couldn't breathe. And worse—he felt it again . That horrible draining sensation. His strength leaking away. The same sickening pull he'd felt from the Araraumon.

“Not... again…" he choked, straining against the binds.

He punched it in the face—once, twice, again—but each strike was weaker than the last. The creature only laughed. A low, evil chuckle that vibrated through its body.

It was winning.

The vine tightened again. Maximus's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the ground slipping out from under him, or maybe it was just the strength bleeding from his limbs. His vision blurred. The sounds of the battle around him dulled, like they were being smothered by the vines closing in.

A sound.

Sharp. Clean. Like paper slicing air.

The pressure around his chest loosened slightly. A second sound followed, like wind catching fire.

Maximus gasped as the vines uncoiled, retreating with a suddenness that nearly toppled him. The plant Digimon screeched—not in pain, but in shock. The air turned still. Unnaturally still. The swamp fell silent, as if holding its breath.

Red talismans fluttered through the trees like falling leaves—each one glowing faintly, burning with strange, angular script. They landed without touching the ground, hovering just above the earth.

And then he saw him.

A figure standing at the edge of the lake-like mire, half-shrouded in shadow and mist. Long, flowing robes trailed from his form, and from his waist hung a ceremonial cloth inscribed with sacred markings. A sharp, tall hat crowned his head, casting his face in shadow—save for the gleam of piercing eyes beneath it.

The creature didn't move. He didn't have to.

One of the talismans ignited, and with a flash of light, the second Vegiemon-like Digimon was sent flying, hurled backward by an unseen force and slammed into a tree with a crunch.

Maximus stared.

Raist coughed in surprise. “M-Master…?"

The figure stepped forward, slow and measured. The red seals followed him like loyal servants. Ahead, the plant-Digimon – more than Maximus had seen before. Thee of the Vegiemon-like creatures, and four more Araraumon, thrown haphazardly into an awkward pile, staring fearfully at the Doumon.

With a wave of his hands, the red scrolls flew at the plant Digimon like arrows, each of them sticking to one of them; they froze in unified horror while Nagata put his paws together.

“Jugonsatsu ," the word left Nagata's mouth like a solemn bell toll, quiet and cold.

The response was anything but.

The scrolls ignited with a sudden crack, detonating with the force of precision-placed charges. Thunderous blasts split the air, and a wall of dust erupted outward like a volcanic plume. The ground trembled beneath the force of the explosion, a concussive shockwave rippling through the earth and rushing over Maximus like a gale. He turned away, shielding his face as grit and heat tore past him.

And then—silence. When the dust began to clear, Maximus opened his eyes and froze.

Nothing remained of the twisted, snarling plant Digimon. After having almost killed him, Caram, and Raist, they were simply gone. Erased. Vaporized. The scorched crater that remained wasn't even deep—just a shallow, smoking wound in the soil, like the earth itself had flinched from the blow.

Maximus stared, his breath hitching in his throat. His heart thudded faster, from the sheer awe settling over him like a weight. He had seen the power of an Ultimate-level Digimon before – even fought against one himself, quite recently…

But this? This was final. Cold. Effortless. Nagata hadn't just won; he'd permanently ended the fight.

'So glad we never got on this guy's bad side…' Maximus thought, pulse still pounding. And he meant every word.

Nagata's hands fell to his sides, and he turned his stoic gaze upon Caram and Raist. “Are you well, my students?" he asked.

“Y-Yes, Master. Your timing was perfect," said Caram.

“Thank you for saving us," added Raist.

Then, Nagata turned his emotionless gaze upon Maximus. There was no aggression in his posture, no flare of energy, yet Maximus still felt something coil in his chest—a thread of unease that pulled taut under the weight of that silent stare. After what he'd just witnessed, the sheer scale of the Doumon's power, even standing near him felt like straying too close to a wild storm.

He was painfully aware of how he must have looked: caked in mud from head to toe, his body marked by the bruising coils of vines, the grime of battle still clinging to him like a second skin. Yet he squared his shoulders and stood his ground. He met Nagata's eyes, not with arrogance, but a flicker of defiance—an unwillingness to be cowed.

“I know you," Nagata said, his eyes narrowing. “You were one of the foresters at the Vee Clan Village."

“One of being the operative word," Maximus replied, arching a brow. “It was the village's primary trade, after all; I was-" He stopped, frowning. “Wait, how would you even know me? I was an ExVeemon the last time you were there, and we never even spoke!"

“I see more than just the physical body," Nagata replied, his tone unreadable.

He lowered himself to one knee, bringing his masked face level with Maximus, as though inspecting a strange artifact. His stare, while still devoid of visible emotion, held a weight that made Maximus feel small, as though the Doumon was peering through him, layer by layer, until there was nowhere left to hide.

Maximus felt frozen. He couldn't explain why. The memory of the blast Nagata had unleashed moments earlier was still seared into his mind, but this was different. The way he was being looked at, studied... judged. It made his limbs feel heavy and the air around him grow thicker.

“…You are incomplete," Nagata said, finally.

From behind, Caram and Raist emerged at their master's sides, casting uncertain glances at one another before focusing on Maximus, confusion in their eyes.

“What do you mean, master?" Raist asked.

“There is a part of this one that is missing," Nagata said, calmly, factually, as if stating the weather.

Maximus scoffed, trying to shake off the creeping tension. “Yeah… I lost my brother; the only family I've ever had," he said. “So, I feel a bit incomplete."

“My condolences for your loss, but that is not what I am referring to," Nagata answered.

He raised a hand, reaching toward Maximus with deliberate calm.

The Veemon flinched and tried to step back, but the hand found the crown of his head, resting there with surprising gentleness. Then, everything stilled. Maximus felt a strange sensation surge through him—like ripples through still water, passing across his skin and sinking deeper. It moved with intent, searching… probing.

Then it found something.

The moment it reached his left shoulder, a searing pain ignited - sharp and bright like fire pressed to nerve. Maximus's eyes flew wide, his jaw clenched against a cry, and finally his instincts surged back into motion. He slapped the hand away and stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder as though it had been branded.

Nagata remained still, unshaken by Maximus' actions. His arm lowered without resistance, and there was no trace of insult or displeasure in his demeanour. Behind him, Caram and Raist had tensed, clearly expecting a reprimand; possibly worse, but their teacher only rose to his feet in silence.

“Come," he said simply. “We will talk in my house."

Without waiting for a response, Nagata turned and began walking toward the lake, his long sleeves trailing slightly through the damp air as he made his way across the swampy ground, heading straight for the islet and its quiet, weathered cabin.

Caram and Raist hesitated only briefly, each glancing back at Maximus before falling into step behind their master.

Maximus lingered, his hand still pressed to his shoulder where the pain had struck deepest. The spot throbbed—not just from the burn, but from the implications of Nagata's words. Incomplete. What had he seen?

After a moment, he took a breath and followed, his steps slow, every one weighted with questions he wasn't sure he wanted answered…

Crossing the mire was easy with the three wizards at his side. Maximus watched in awe as Nagata walked ahead, his feet gliding atop the swampy water without sinking—an impossible feat that made Maximus pause until his own foot struck something firm, though invisible. He blinked. A bridge. Another marvel of the Doumon's magic.

Inside the cabin, the air was warm and dimly lit by the hearth's glow. Nagata set a kettle over the fire with practiced ease, and at his word, Raist retrieved a moist towel from a basin. The Sorcerimon returned quickly, offering it to Maximus with a wordless nod.

Maximus accepted it gratefully, wiping thick streaks of dried mud from his arms and face. The heat and moisture were a balm on his aching body. When he had done all he could, Raist quietly stepped behind him and continued, dabbing away the grime from his back and tail with quiet care.

The scent of steeping tea soon filled the room—earthy and rich, like crushed leaves and damp moss. Maximus caught hints of fresh-cut grass and petrichor, that faint, nostalgic smell that came with rain on dry earth. He exhaled slowly, letting the tension ebb from his shoulders.

When the tea was ready, Nagata passed him a ceramic cup. Maximus inhaled its steam before sipping. The taste matched the scent: grounded, bitter, and oddly soothing. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he looked across at Nagata.

The Doumon sat motionless on a floor cushion, his cup cradled in his hands. Caram and Raist flanked him, each mirroring their master in posture and silence. None spoke—but Maximus could feel it. Nagata was waiting.

So, he began.

He told them everything: how the Woodmon had attacked one of the workers at the edge of the forest; how he'd tracked its trail into the deeper woods. Then came the Sangloupmon.

At the mention of the vampiric Digimon, Maximus noticed the smallest shift in Nagata's posture—a subtle lift of the eyes, a sharpening of his focus. Maximus pressed on, recounting the vicious fight, the unexpected second Sangloupmon, and Maverick's timely arrival to rescue him from the hounds who had been draining him of his life data.

It hurt to speak about his brother. A tightness gripped his chest as he described Maverick's final moments. A tear welled in his eye, but he breathed in the scent of the tea again—anchoring himself—and continued.

Then came the name; Talbot – the Black WereGarurumon.

The moment it left his mouth, he noticed Nagata lower his cup, setting it on his lap with great care. His hands didn't shake, but the intensity in his gaze deepened. He said nothing, but listened closely.

“After he attacked the village, and… killed my brother, and everyone I knew," Maximus continued, voice thick, “he moved on. I was pinned under debris. I thought I was done for. But I woke up in my house—rescued by Caram and Raist. And…" he glanced down at himself. “Looking like this."

Nagata's eyes narrowed. “And you said you were an ExVeemon before?"

“Until I woke up, yeah," Maximus said. “Your students thought you might know what happened to me. So…" He gestured loosely at the quiet, lamp-lit room around them. “Here we are."

Nagata shut his eyes briefly, processing the tale in silence. Maximus, growing impatient, scowled.

“You reacted to the name Talbot," he said. “You know something, don't you?"

“I cannot speak to the name," Nagata replied evenly. “But a Black WereGarurumon... that is another matter entirely. Such a form suggests the emergence of an Oblivion Bloom — a deeply troubling sign."

“Master, what is an Oblivion Bloom?" Caram asked, brow furrowed.

“No one truly knows," Nagata said, taking another sip of tea. “Some claim it originates in the human world — when their 'internet' delves into forbidden data. Others believe it surfaces from corrupted zones deep within our own — fragments of decaying code that infect the layers above."

“Whatever the source," he continued, “an Oblivion Bloom is always followed by instability. If Talbot emerged from one, we may soon face others twisted by the same corruption."

Maximus frowned. “What does that have to do with me being stuck like this?" he asked, gesturing to his smaller Veemon form. “Why can't I Digivolve back?"

Nagata turned his eyes toward him — calm, but grave. “That may be a separate, yet equally tragic consequence," he said. “From what you've described, the Sangloupmon didn't merely drain your energy - it fed on your bio_data_. And more than it should have."

Maximus blinked. “My what?"

“Digimon, like humans, are structured by code; what humans might call DNA," Nagata explained. “But unlike them, our code — our biodata, also contains our evolutionary potential. What we are, and what we can become."

He continued, his expression remaining unchanged. “When that Sangloupmon fed on you… it took more than data. It tore away a piece of your evolutionary blueprint. And what was lost… was the part of you that was ExVeemon."

Maximus clenched a fist. “Then what are you saying? That I've… lost it?"

Nagata nodded solemnly. “You haven't reverted to your original form," he said quietly, “because the path forward — the code that once allowed you to Digivolve — is no longer within you."

The words struck Maximus like a blow, harder than any Sangloupmon's fangs or Talbot's fists. It wasn't pain in his body — it was something deeper, something breaking inside him. His hand went slack. The tea cup slipped from his fingers, hit the wooden floor with a dull clatter, and spilled its contents across the boards.

He stared at Nagata, horror creeping into his voice. “I… can't evolve… ever again?" He swallowed. “I'm… a Veemon… forever?"

Nagata's eyes softened with a quiet sorrow. “I am sorry, young one," he said, shaking his head. “I cannot say with certainty that your ability to Digivolve is gone… but I can say this with confidence: your days as an ExVeemon are over. That path, that form… has been lost to you."

Maximus sat frozen, his expression carved in horror — eyes locked on Nagata, yet seeing something far beyond him. His life played across his mind's eye like a film on fast-forward:

The first time he Digivolved into ExVeemon… the sudden surge of power, like lightning in his veins. The rush of air under newly formed wings, and the freedom of flight. The moment he unleashed his first Vee Laser — the buildup of energy, the crackling release, the thrill of raw strength under his command.

All of it… gone.

Memories now, nothing more.

Feelings he would never know again.

Raist finally broke the silence. “Master… is there nothing we can do?" His voice was soft, sincere — his eyes on Maximus, full of empathy, though unable to grasp the depth of that loss.

Nagata closed his eyes, the motion slow and solemn. When he opened them again, he merely shook his head. “No, my student… It is beyond our control. Beyond our power to heal."

Maximus remained frozen, the silence stretching into what felt like an eternity. His mind reeled, struggling to accept the truth:

He would never Digivolve into ExVeemon again. Not for the rest of his life.

The only possible reversal would be through rebirth — the cycle of deletion and reincarnation. But if that happened… he wouldn't be him anymore. He wouldn't be Maximus. He might not even be a Veemon at all. He'd come back as someone else entirely.

Someone who didn't remember.

His hands began to tremble. Slowly, he lifted them into view, staring down at the five-fingered shape — familiar, yet wrong.

These hands, once powerful in a different form, now looked small. Alien.

They were his now.

Forever.

There would be no going back. No return to the strength he once had.

And with that, the crushing weight of the truth settled in: His revenge… would never come.

Talbot — that vile, monstrous Black WereGarurumon who had destroyed his home, taken his friends, his family — would remain unpunished… Or at least, if justice were ever done, it would not be by Maximus' hands…

No… No, he couldn't accept that – he would not accept that!

Talbot was his… Talbot would die by his hands alone! No one else had to right to see justice done upon that werewolf but him!

Somehow, he would find another way… Somehow…

As if reading his thoughts, Nagata spoke suddenly, his calm voice striking Maximus like a bolt of lightning.

“But it need not be the end for you if you still wish to be strong. There is another way."

Maximus looked up, barely aware that his claws had curled so tightly into his palms that they might've drawn blood — if Digimon had any. “There is?" he asked, a fragile hope rising in his voice.

“Go to the Holy Citadel," Nagata said. “Speak with the Sacred Tribunal. They cannot restore your former form… but perhaps, under their tutelage, you can find a new path — one that leads not only to the strength you lost… but something greater still."

Maximus's hope dimmed almost immediately. “The Holy Citadel?" he echoed, skeptical. “You want me to go beg the Angel-folk for help? What could they possibly do for me?"

“The same thing they are doing now… for my sister," Nagata said quietly.

That gave Maximus pause. He recalled what Caram and Raist had let slip back in the swamp — that Nagata's sister had suffered a fate similar to his own.

“Your sister?" he asked, leaning in, desperate to know more.

“She, too, was defeated by a powerful enemy. Her Digivolution path was shattered — just as yours has been. She once evolved into Youkomon… but after that battle, she was forced back… all the way to her In-Training stage of Viximon."

Maximus's eyes widened, recounting the evolutionary lineage of Doumon. “Back to her In-Training form?" he breathed; to be sent that far back in the evolution line, she had practically turned into a baby! “What happened to her?"

Nagata's gaze lowered. “I wasn't there," he said bitterly. “I couldn't be. The Citadel was under attack — rogue Digimon had breached the inner walls. I stayed behind to defend the younger students. She… she faced the enemy alone."

He paused, visibly burdened by the memory, then continued with a shake of his head.

“In the aftermath, she remained at the Citadel. Slowly, she regained her Rookie form, and she continues to train there every day… rebuilding what was lost, step by step. By the time I left, she had managed to become a Renamon again."

Maximus's expression darkened. “So… she didn't lose her evolution path like I did."

“No," Nagata said, meeting his gaze. “But she found another way forward. And so can you."

He gestured to Maximus with a rare note of insistence. “Veemon like yourself have vast potential. Your kind, like mine, are capable of multiple evolutionary paths. Having heard you talking about your brother, you, of all Digimon, should know that."

The words echoed in Maximus's mind — and he knew Nagata was right.

Growing up together with Maverick, Maximus had become an ExVeemon — fast, agile, sharp — while Maverick had taken a different route, evolving into a Veedramon: powerful, durable, a juggernaut in battle. Where Maximus had soared with wings, Maverick had bulldozed through obstacles with brute force. There were others, too. Red Veedramon — a more volatile evolution, fuelled by rage instead of strength. Dangerous, but powerful.

Nagata had said he could never be ExVeemon again. But that wasn't the only path. If Maverick had found his way, so could he.

Perhaps he would follow his brother's footsteps… Or perhaps the fire in his heart — the hate, the pain — would give rise to something more fearsome; a Red Veedramon. The cost would be high, but to have that power…

Either way… he would be strong again.

And when that day came — Talbot would pay.

Slowly, Maximus looked at Nagata again and nodded. “I'll do it," he said. Then added with a shrug, “What's left for me to lose if I try?"

Nagata inclined his head. “Very well. My students will show you the way out of the bog and back to the main road — it will lead you to the Holy Citadel. You may rest here tonight if you need, and set out when you're ready."

Maximus nodded and began to rise, intending to find a quiet corner where he could be alone with his thoughts. But Nagata's voice stopped him. “And… there is one more thing. A small favour."

Maximus turned back. “Yes?"

Nagata lifted his paw and waved it. “It can wait," he said, simply. “Rest. We'll speak in the morning."

With that, the old Digimon turned and crossed the room, sliding open a wooden door and stepping through. He left Maximus alone with the twins.

Maximus glanced at Caram and Raist. “Do you two know anything about what happened to his sister?"

“We… didn't really talk to her," Caram said. “She kept to herself when we were at the Citadel. Always training. She didn't care for distractions just strength."

Raist hesitated, then added with a visible shiver, “I was once scheduled to spar with her. I thought I'd have the upper hand — I was the only one in my Champion form."

Maximus frowned. “So, what happened? You thought she was scared of you?"

Raist shook his head. “No. I thought I'd win." His tone darkened. “I didn't."

“She doesn't fight to lose," Caram said quietly. “Let's just leave it at that."

Maximus looked between them, confused. They were both Champion-level Digimon; seasoned, disciplined, trained by Nagata himself. And yet… they spoke of his sister with something close to fear.

A Rookie-level Digimon who could terrify two Champions?

He didn't say it aloud, but the thought lingered as he settled into a quiet corner. The fire inside him had not gone out — it had simply changed. Revenge, strength, evolution… he didn't know what path lay ahead. Only that it would be different from the one he'd always imagined.

Little did he know that he would soon meet someone already walking that path…