Spirit of the Beast King, or, The Lion and the Ogre

Ogremon stood upon the cliff which overlooked the deep jungle. It was late noon, and the sun was staining the sky a crimson red. The trees below swayed in the wind, their branches dancing a familiar beat to the old Digimon. In the distance, a river wound its way across the land. The sounds of the forest – the calls of birds and ainals, the sound of Digimon going about their daily lives, filtered up to him, and brought him a strange sense of contentment.,

It was strange, almost alien for him to think like this. Not so long ago, he'd have hated this sight. Hated the peace it implied, despised it for the boring mundaneness of it all. It would have ignited a fire in his heart, that he would have wanted to let burn this forest down. Pathetic, boring weaklings. That's what he would have called those who lived here.

But he was not that man anymore. Now, looking down from his perch on the cliff-side, Ogremon could muster only the very smallest flicker of that fire, and even that more because of habit than actual desire. There just...didn't seem to be any point in it now. Oh, sure he could rampage, he could tear this forest down. There probably wasn't anyone here strong enough to stop him, and if there was, so what? A virus like him lived to fight. A good battle with a worthy foe, that was worth enough on its own.

So why didn't he want to go down there and look for a fight

Pffh, who was he kidding? He knew exactly why he didn't want to go down there.

You would have liked it here tonight. He thought to himself morosely. Looks like the stars are going to be out. You always did like it when the sky was bright. Nevermind those forest-dwellers, his viral instincts screamed at him. He was the pathetic one. To sit here pining away while there was work to be done. Like he was some kind of sissy-boy Data Attribute. He was a virus Digimon! Born to fight! Born to kill! He should have been ecstatic, not only were the Digi-Destined gone, but his rival who had dogged his trail for Ogremon's entire life was dead. He was free! Free to destroy! Free to kill!

But he didn't want to do any of that. Not now. He was a failure as a virus, he thought to himself. There was no use denying it, even if he'd kill anyone who pointed it out. He'd fought to save the world, and felt the warmth of camaraderie, he'd protected others, fought for a cause other than his own. Was it any real surprise that he couldn't go back?

I'm never going to be the same old Ogremon again. He tightened his fist, feeling the pummel of the bone-club he wielded creaking in his hands, There was a sadness to the sight of the setting sun. As though it were the disappearance of a worthy soul, the last lighty vanishing to leave only shadow. And shadow was nothing without light to fight against.

When had it started? When had he become soft? Well of course, there was only one logical point to pin the blame. Devimon. That virus champion who had ruled over File island, and forced those therein to serve him. Ogremon had joined willingly. The promise of power had been enough to bring him into the fold, and yet what he had got had managed somehow to be both exactly what he wanted, and worse than he had ever expected.

He remembered it now. Barely suppressing a shudder. Devimon had touched his soul, and unleashed all the dark power therein. His body had been crackling with energy, he thought he could have cleaved a mountain and maybe he could have.

He didn't really remember what he had been like when he held that power. Those memories were far too full of twisted emotions, and confusion. To drink deep of the power of shadows was a double edged sword, and Ogremon had barely escaped with his continued existence. Still, he recalled some things. Fleeting impressions, like fish darting through the ocean of the mind. It had been cold, so cold. Like he was wrapped in ice. He had felt rage, anger, fear, but they had seemed far off. And always, Devimon's presence in his mind. Controlling him like a good little puppet.

He'd surrendered to that monster totally.

Never again! To become less than a minion, less even than a puppet. A mere extension of another, first metaphorically and then literally. His will and mind not even his own! All for what? Power?

Power...

Yes, he knew the call of power. It was his most basic urge. Like any virus Digimon, he wanted to grow stronger. To evolve. To become. Yet somehow, during his long life, he'd forgotten why. What was the point of strength, if there was no one to test it against? To become supremely powerful was surely a fate worse than death. He'd not seen that at the time, but he did now.

It had taken the effort of one to teach him this. The one Vaccine Digimon hye'd ever considered an equal. Just speaking the name aloud conjured memories. Memories of dozens of battles, victories and losses in equal share. The feel of their clashing powers, the rush of blood, the savage joy of meeting one equal to you, and knowing that you would push beyond your limits and destroy him.

"Leomon." He spoke to the whispering wind. A half-smile forming on his lips.

Leomon. His eternal rival. Leomon, his greatest foe. Leomon, his only friend.

It was hard to describe how their rivalry had been born. In truth, Ogremon did not remember. Digimon had no natural lifepsan, they could live as long as they were not destroyed in battle. Ogremon had existed for hundreds of years. Somewhere buried deep in his mind, there was that first fateful day. But the keys to that scene were lost to him now. It didn't matter. No, how they met was unimportant. What was important, was how they'd recognised each other instantly as enemies.

Yes, it had been glorious. Their clashes over the years. Ogremon in support of darkness and shadow, Leomon in protection of the innocent and pure. The So-called King of the Jungle had been a noble soul, who would never suffer to see another put in harm's way. And yet, despite the number of traps Ogremon had used this to lure him into, he always escaped. No matter how many times they battled, neither died. At first, it had been because they were of equal power. But then, it had become something more, hadn't it?

''What will you do when you defeat Leomon?'' He remembered one of the children, the Chosen who were destined to save the world had asked. ''Once you win, what will you do?''

He'd been stumped. He had honestly never thought of what he would do if he actually won. That wasn't the point now, and hadn't been for decades. The point was the clash, the surge of will against wall, the roar of shadow against light. He'd found a savage kind of joy in their fights, and somehow, during that time, Leomon had become the closest thing he had to a friend.

Oh, those were the best years of his life! The battles escalated, their clashes grew grander! Their rivalry burned like the surface of the sun itself!

And then, it had been snuffed out.

He remembered the sight. That day was burned into his mind with a clarity that he had never known before. If he lived for a thousand years, he'd still be able to recite it exactly. It had been after Devimon, after the evil of Myotismon. The Dark Masters had claimed the Digital World, and though he no longer wished to call upon the power of evil, neither did he want to oppose it. So he had watched, and waited. Content to know that whoever won in the end, his battles of Leomon were fated to on for eternity.

But Leomon was a protector. A damned hero. Of course he'd throw himself into the battle against the Dark Masters. Of course he'd end up facing someone much more powerful than he.

MetalEtemon. A money with an ego many times as big as his body. Yet that same body was coated in powerful metal. MetalEtamon was a fool, but deadly, and utterly evil. Leomon had stood up to him, and even with the power of the Digivices supercharging his body, he'd been unable to win. Though by working with the humans, he'd destroyed MetalEtamon, it was too late.

Leomon died on that battlefield, and Ogremon felt like his heart had been wrenched from his body. He didn't understand it at first, Leomon was his rival. His enemy. Why should he care what happened to him? But slowly, it dawned on him.

He felt empty. He had no purpose. Over the years, his clashes with Leomon had become his life. Leomon was his one and only friend, and also his greatest foe. Now that he was gone, what was the point? He could become more powerful, but why? Oh, others would raise to fight him; maybe even the Digi-Destined. But they'd never be Leomon. Compared to him, those battles would be as hollow and pointless as Ogremon himself.

He'd been alone for all his life, but for the first time during it, he felt lonely.

Maybe that was why. When the Digi-Destined had called for him, Ogremon had answered. He was no hero, he'd never be Leomon; but maybe he could do one last thing for his oldest friend. Primary Village, the birthplace of new Digimon had been destroyed, so Ogremon knew that his rival was never going to come back. Maybe then, this was his last chance to do something, anything for the self-proclaimed King of Beasts.

Hah. The memories of his time with the humans were still so strong.. They had made an impact on him, something he had never expected. The battle had changed, gone from being a legacy of his rival to something more. Those humans had become his comrades, his friends. Though it galled him to be so soft as to actually admit it.

Joe and Mimi were the two who were closest to his heart. Mimi who's sincerity had helped him looked past his doubts, to see that he really could be the good guy. Even if it was only for once. And Joe, Joe was was reliable, who had helped him when he was hurt and bleeding. He'd had no reason to, they'd been enemies then, but Joe had come to his aid. The first sign of kindness that had warmed his black heart.

Yes, he called them his friends. Strange to think of it. He, who had had the same friend-slash-foe for a hundred years suddenly had many. Would Leomon have been proud of him if he had known? Would he have recognised Ogremon as a changed man, as a friend?

Would Ogremon have wanted him to? Would it have killed the spark in their battles? Would it be better they stayed rivals? Or maybe they could have been something more...

Even now, he hardly dared bring word to the thought. Partners. Allies. Could they have travelled together? Worked as a team to bring order back to a Digital World devastated by the wake of the Dark Masters?

The thought was tempting. To fight with Leomon, but not with Leomon was something he'd never even dreamed before. Oh, the adventurers they might have had. But it was never to be for Leomon had died before Ogremon had ever even considered such a concept, and now it would always be too late.

There was always a chance Leomon could be reborn, but even if he was, would he remember? Would their rivalry survive such a thing? Most Digimon had no knowledge of their past lives, and often didn't even come back as the same type of Digimon. Leomon could walk past him in the forest, and Ogremon might not even recognise him!

He lived in hope, that one day he would see that familiar style. That old cocky stance that used to drive him crazy. To hear that voice again. To cross blades with his rival one more time.

The chances were slim, almost none. He'd have to be reborn first, he'd have to keep his memory, he'd have to become a Leomon again, and then, they'd have to find each other in this vast world. Almost no chance.

Almost.

Yet hope. Because it was Leomon. The Digimon who had done the possible, the Digimon who had faced odds so great that he surely should have lost, and yet never did. The one who had never let an innocent come to harm, or a crime go unpunished. Leomon, whose will was so strong that it could transcend the very limits of evolution itself, and make the jump from champion to mega.

Yes, if anyone could do it, it would be him.

Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe they'd never meet again, but so long as there was even one chance, he'd hold onto that hope. And as long as he did that, he had a reason to live.

A motion across the river drew his eye. Two Airdramon – giant flying serpents - were cutting a path through the air.

"That's odd." Ogremon muttered to himself, leaning forward. "Airdramon usually steer clear of the forest, and what's that ring they've got on their tails?" He frowned, a bad feeling coming upon him as he peered at the Digimon. Their eyes were red, their faces set in bestial snarls. They were clearly here to cause trouble, and if left alone would be capable of burning this forest to the ground in a day.

Ogremon sighed. Feeling Leomon's eyes reaching to him across time. I spent too much time around humans, they've made me soft.

Out-loud, he only said, "I suppose it's going to be a busy night."

Then he pushed off from the cliff-face, and raced towards the forest.