Epilogue: The Scars of Friendship

The stars twinkled over the tranquil desert sky. Amidst the ebony stratosphere, two moons sent their rays of cool light down upon the dry landscape. The sea of sand was restful and still. The sounds of battle had been silenced for hours.

It had been a decisive victory for the combined forces of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty and the Dramon Empire. The Slayer Legion had been decimated by the turn of events and, while determined, simply couldn't overcome the combined might which crushed them from both sides. The prisoners who surrendered prior to the Dramon Empire's engagement in battle were spared the charge of treason and kept separate from the prisoners who had only surrendered after the Slayer Legion was decimated.

In what was once a battlefield, the two armies organized. Each side formed rank and gathered their wounded. Despite grudgingly aiding one another, the two camps remained more or less divided with some tension still present between them. The Palaeozoic Sovereignty took their troops to one end of the sandy plain and the Dramon Empire gathered to the other.

Between the two armies, on the battle scarred land, were the bigwigs from each side. Alongside them were the added party of the Rebel commanders and the Avengers who had been dispatched as soon as the word of a battle got out.

Gathered there were High Councilor Duroth, Lord Protector Arado, King Aegyptu, Commander Arahon Alpha, Commander Braon, Ajax Ouranos and Osiris Soultaker, among others.

"So, you're telling me that you guys knew nothing about this?" Aegyptu asked, narrowing his eyes at Duroth and Arado.

"That's not entirely true," Duroth admitted, calmly gazing back at the dinosaur king. "We were fortunate enough to receive the information of the rebellion via somebody who was approached by the ringleader and asked to join him. Luckily, he remained loyal to the Dramon Empire and told me everything. As soon as Arado and I heard, we spoke to the Council and convinced them to mobilize the military and send them down here to quash the rebel sect. I apologize that we weren't swifter, but it takes time to mount an offensive, especially after our forces had been crippled only weeks ago."

Arado nodded stoically and interjected, "We're sorry if we overstepped our bounds by entering your territory once again, but we felt that these dissidents were our responsibility. We couldn't afford to have them tarnish the name of the newly reformed Dramon Empire and send us all plummeting back into the inferno of war." The MailBirdramon craned his head up at Aegyptu. "...You don't think we had a hand in this, do you? If we had, we wouldn't have sent our troops to deal with the invaders; you can't imagine how hard it was to sell this decision to the Dramon public. I can't say I enjoyed having fresh produce thrown at me prior to my departure."

"You're right, of course," King Aegyptu mumbled. "As much as I hate to admit it, if the Lord Protector and your armies hadn't arrived, we would have lost many more soldiers than we had..."

"Well, I'm just relieved that this didn't escalate into something far more ugly," Braon chuckled. "I have to say, I was a little worried all those hours of meticulous peace negotiations had went down the drain."

Arado grinned. "That would have been the greatest crime of all," he spoke.

"No," Duroth said, his voice stern and serious. "The greatest crime is that those whose hearts were filled with anger and pride were able to cost countless good digimon their lives once again."

"Yeesh. What a mood-kill," Braon murmured. Arahon shot him a look that elicited a sheepish grin from the Justimon.

The Alphamon turned to Duroth and Arado. "What of the ones responsible?"

Aegyptu craned his head down from his lofty perch. "I have two eye witness accounts that say the ringleader is KIA."

"If they're your soldiers' accounts, how can they be sure it was the officer in charge who was killed?" Braon asked.

"Your apprentice, Braon. Strom Marocannus says that, while he was in their captivity, a Slayerdramon made it clear that he was the one in charge. Strom then said that he was the one who delivered the killing blow," the giant Spinomon explained.

"A Slayerdramon?" Arado asked, turning to Duroth, who nodded. "We corroborate that Strom's account is most likely accurate. Ishton Kirzarv, the one behind this rebellion, is a Slayerdramon."

Duroth nodded. "That, and we trust the words of an Avenger."

Commander Braon, however, looked concerned. "Strom?" he asked. "What happened to him?"

"Field Officer Ranney Nychus, Strom's friend and subordinate, said that their advance team was engaged in combat and overwhelmed. Strom covered the battalion's retreat and was taken prisoner in the process. A Pteramon of mine had relayed us a message from Strom to attack during the sandstorm and, when the remainder of the Desert Vanguard met up with us, Ranney came up with a daring plan to save him. He didn't give us a chance to say no before running off," Aegyptu explained with a slight grin.

Braon remained silent. Ajax took the opportunity to step forwards. "What do you plan to do with the perpetrators?" he asked Duroth and Arado.

"The prisons have been feeling quite empty as of late," Arado responded, smirking lightly. "I think we can find a way to fill them up again."

Duroth nodded. "I'm not in the custom of executions unless absolutely necessary. We will be reviewing the freshly taken prisoners and performing a full investigation. As promised, the ones who surrendered without fuss will receive lighter punishments."

"We'll let you deal with that, then, Duroth," Arahon Alpha spoke. "You've made it clear you have a radically different goal than those of your precursors. We can only be grateful for that."

Duroth smiled and nodded. "I'm glad we can all agree that peace is preferable to war," he replied. The Dorbickmon turned to King Aegyptu. "In a gesture of friendship and cooperation, I have summoned a team of Goldramon to help heal the wounds of your soldiers. It's but a small token... for I know it won't bring back the lives of those lost here today."

The Dorbickmon bowed his head, prompting Arado to do the same. "I offer my humblest apologies on behalf of both myself and the Dramon Empire. It wounds me deeply that my brethren have acted so horribly once again. It's inexcusable. I just hope that you don't think that all Dramon are like this."

Aegyptu sighed and nodded. "Thank you for your sympathy. You have shown today that not all Dramon are miserable, bile-sucking newts. It can't have been easy for you to fight your own kind."

"Indeed..." Duroth replied, closing his eyes.

His MailBirdramon companion looked across the group. "We will withdraw from your territory with the prisoners as soon as we can move all of our wounded. I'm sure our presence here is making your troops uncomfortable."

Aegyptu responded with a growly exhale, not exactly disagreeing with what Arado said. "Of course we will have to have several official meetings about what took place here," he spoke.

Arado grinned. "Oh, I can hardly wait. Several official, bureaucratic discussions of what we've just been doing here for the past hour," he replied, sarcasm soaking his voice.

"It needs to be done," Duroth concurred. "For appearances, if nothing else."

"Braon and I will need to get in contact with Terminus, Uriel, Castiel, Rhea, and the others, as well," Arahon spoke.

The Justimon in question was distracted, however. Though his eyes remained hidden behind his helmet, they were fixed on something off to the side. Commander Braon watched as Gapsar in his MasterTyrannomon form and Raizer the ZeekGreymon helped a wound-riddled Strom hobble towards where the Palaeozoic Sovereignty wounded were being tended to.

Strom was hardly able to support himself and his long neck was drooped. The Spinomon winced and looked to the left, where he saw Braon staring at him. Strom managed to give him a weak but warm grin. He saw Braon respond with a nod and a thumbs up before he was forced to close his golden eyes again.

Braon evenly turned back to others, who he had been half-listening to. "We can spare whatever medical supplies we have leftover from what Terminus gave us," he said.

Duroth nodded. "Reserve that for the Palaeozoic Sovereingty; we have more than enough Goldramon to tend to our troops," he explained.

Arahon Alpha nodded. "That seems to be enough for now. Duroth, Aegyptu and I can hammer out the details of the meetings and the official investigation."

"I have to go debrief with the Grand Marshal and Commander anyways," Arado replied, backing up and turning around.

Braon nodded. "Ajax, Onaga, Valkur, Kairi, Karmas, Osiris," he spoke to the Avengers who came with Arahon and himself upon hearing about the battle. "See if you guys can make yourselves useful somehow... And try not to pick any fights."

The Justimon then started to walk in the direction of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty's wounded.

Strom's pained moans joined the chorus of groans and snarls that polluted the air. Off to the side of the open-air hospice (which was really an area of sand set aside for the wounded to lie down and be treated), the wounded Spinomon lay on his side and glared at the Goldramon, a golden, Eastern dragon who was pressing large bandages against Strom's wounds.

"A little harder! Please! You might be able to touch bone this time!" Strom growled at the Dramon physician with a deeply sarcastic tone. "You're making this painful on purpose, aren't you? Just because I'm an Avenger."

"Avenger or not, it's my duty as a physician to heal you, not harm you," the Goldramon replied, veiled irritation in his voice at yet another difficult patient who he had to deal with that night.

"...Well you're sure as hell not doing a very good job in that area," the dinosaur muttered.

The Goldramon's eyes began glowing and a blueish-silver wisp of power, in the form of a drake, emerged from the sapphire bracer on his forearm. The drake, Umon of Creation and the Blue Thunder, screeched and washed over Strom's body, swirling around his wounded form. Before Storm's eyes, data began to gather and his flesh began to mend. In a matter of seconds, his bandaged self was looking none the worse for wear.

Except for the scars on his palm.

"There," the physician said as Umon returned to his bracelet. "Now you may look fine, but your data is still incredibly unstable and your wounds could reopen and bleed just by flexing a muscle the wrong way. You need to rest. Understand? I cannot emphasize that enough."

"And you damn well better listen to him, Strom," a light-hearted voice said.

Strom turned his head and saw Commander Braon walking over to them. "Braon..." Strom spoke, a tired grin on his face. "What are you doing here?"

The Justimon chuckled and stopped in front of them, putting his hands on his hips. "Apparently, you can't be trusted with anything! I leave you on your own for a few days and look what happens! You end up in the middle a would-be war," he said, grinning at his apprentice. "I swear, Strom, sometimes I can't believe your crappy luck."

A soft chuckle rumbled from Strom's dry throat. "I thought you didn't believe in luck, Commander..."

"Ah ah!" Braon replied, raising his metal index finger and waggling it slightly. "It's just 'Braon' now, remember? But you're right. I don't... though I'm not sure how else I can explain how you went home from one war only to end up in the middle of another conflict, get taken prisoner by Dramon a second time and then get beaten within an inch of your life. Maybe that girl you had the hots for will fall head over heels for you; I mean, you're due, right?"

"Laugh it up, Braon," the Spinomon responded. "So... the Avengers were dispatched, huh?"

"Yep. Though it looks like it was for nothing," the Justimon observed. "It was over by the time Kairi teleported us here. Guess it took awhile for the word to spread."

"Excuse me," the Goldramon physician interrupted. "I've finished my final inspection of the Spinomon. He'll heal with rest, but there seems to be an abnormality. The aged wound in his hand. Umon wouldn't even touch it. It's as if the data around the wound is being rewritten by something."

"It burns on occasion... Intensely," Strom replied. "Should I be worried?"

"It's still in the healing process and shows no signs of data degradation, so I doubt you're in any danger," the Goldramon explained. "To be safe, I would have it looked at by another physician in a month or so. I recommend my colleague-"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Strom swiftly countered, souring at the idea of having to go into the Dramon Empire to be looked at by, who he assumed would be, a Dramon quack or a doctor who moonlighted as a torturer during the war.

"Of course not," the physician dryly answered. "Why would you?"

"Don't take it personally; he's like this around all doctors," Braon said with a grin. "I'll make sure he sees somebody."

"Glad to see you're still on my side," Strom muttered sarcastically.

Braon grinned wider and turned back to his dinosaur apprentice as the Goldramon nodded at Braon and flew off to tend to another patient. "Like I told you before, I have your best interests in mind, Strommy." Behind the Justimon's helmet, his smirk slowly vanished. "Sooo..."

"...What?" Strom asked in a suspicious tone.

Braon moved his head so that he was pointed towards Strom's face. "I heard it was you who took down the so-called "Slayer Legion's" ringleader: Ishton something-or-other. Nobody I've ever heard of until now."

Strom frowned pensively and turned his eyes towards the star-littered sky. "...Yeah. It was me."

The Justimon grinned. "Well, congrats! Hell of a job, Strom."

It was evident by Strom's face that he didn't share Braon's merriment. "He said that I was just like him..." he rumbled in a brooding, pensive voice.

"...How'd he figure that?" the commander asked.

"The reason he started this war was out of vengeance for Gotungir, who was either his best friend or lover or something. I'm not sure. All I know is that it was out of more than just a soldier's devotion..."

"Gotungir...?" Braon asked, remembering the UlforceVeedramon, but allowing Strom to continue.

His gold eyes remained fixed on the stars, as if trying to find something in particular up there in the atmosphere. "...He told me that the Avengers were no different from them; they acted out of vengeance and so did we. Ishton also said that I was worse than he was. He was fighting in the name of somebody close to him... whereas I only fought because of my anger and pain at being betrayed," Strom explained grimly. "To be honest... not all of what he said wrong. I can't speak for the others, but... I know what my reasons were for joining the Avengers."

"Oh yeah?" Braon asked matter of factly. The Justimon folded his arms and closed his eyes. "Well you're wrong. He was full of shit."

Strom frowned and turned his head to look at him. "How do you figure?"

"The reason you left the Palaeozoic Sovereignty in the first place was for altruistic reasons. You were in a neutral country but you still wanted to help. And besides, you wouldn't go around killing Dramon civilians, would you?"

"If you or Ranney had been killed by the Dramon... I don't know..." Strom murmured, letting his words linger. "...How could either of us be sure?"

"Because you're a good digimon when it comes down to it. I know that if given the option, you'd make the right choice," Braon reassured him confidently. "Speaking of Ranney..."

The Justimon turned his gaze towards the DinoRexmon who lay not too far away. Strom followed his gaze and looked at Ranney, who appeared to be healing and was laughing with some comrades.

Braon grinned. "On my way over, I heard his recounting how he saved your and Gapsar's butt on a few separate occasions. He's not exactly modest, is he?"

"I'll kill him..." Strom spoke, though a tiny grin formed on his face.

Braon smiled. "I'm proud of you, Strom. I know it wasn't easy making up with him."

"Who says I made up with him?" Strom asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I can tell by looking at you. You have a look of hope on your face that I haven't seen on you in some time," the Justimon commander explained to his apprentice. "That, and the fact that you're not glaring daggers at him anymore."

The Spinomon grinned fondly, but quickly tried to cover it up. "Yeah, well... I can't exactly hate the guy who saved me, can I?"

Braon stared at him and suddenly laughed and shook his head. "You try way too hard, you stubborn bastard!"

Strom flushed a little, but allowed himself a grin. "Yeah, whatever... Don't you have a lot of politician-type stuff to do?"

"Hey now! Don't start throwing around the P-word at me," Braon retorted, smirking. "So you talked to him?"

Wit a sigh of resignation, the dinosaur nodded. "Yeah, I talked to him... After I punched him – sorry," Strom told him with a small grin, to which Braon shook his head in exasperation. The Spinomon looked back towards Ranney. "What he said was reasonable... but in the end, it was his actions that spoke louder than his words. He was trying so hard to make things right between us. I guess I finally let myself realize how much he cared when I saw the pains he went to for me."

"Yeah, well, this is one time where I don't mind saying, 'I told you so'," Braon smugly said.

Strom grinned reflectively. "Yeah... You did," he admitted. He looked the Justimon in the eyes. "You had me figured out all along... I was afraid to get close to anybody that I didn't trust with my life. I used sarcasm and you were right with all that other psychological mumbo jumbo you were spouting. You were right and you know me better than I know myself."

"Yup!" the Justimon replied. "...And the reason I know you so well is because we're friends." He grinned reassuringly at him. "It wasn't the first time I've been right about you and it certainly won't be the last, either."

Strom laid his head down on the cool sand and relaxed under the shadow of the night. "Heh... Right..."

Commander Braon turned and started walking.

"I'm glad you survived," he spoke as he walked past the resting dinosaur.

After a few moments, Strom smiled contently, watching as the Justimon walked away from the wounded. "...And where are you going?"

Braon grinned and looked over his shoulder, answering with a playful tone. "Oh, I've got a lot of politician-type stuff to do."

Strom chuckled and closed his eyes. "Okay. We'll talk later after my nap. My body's killing me..."

The Justimon nodded and walked over to the Avengers, allowing his apprentice to succumb to a much-needed sleep.

The next morning...

The army of the Palaeozoic Sovereignty stood in rank and file before King Aegyptu, who stood eclipsing the sunrise behind him. His form was silhouetted by its fiery rays as he gazed down at his prehistoric digimon soldiers.

Only the Palaeozoic Sovereignty stood within the dry sand. The army of the Dramon Empire had left in middle of the night with their wounded along with the Slayer Legion prisoners. Duroth figured that the sooner they all left, the better it would be for everybody.

All was quiet with the exception of King Aegyptu's far-reaching voice. Even the wounded stood among their comrades. The ones who couldn't stand on their own were supported by those nearby. Each soldier stood straight in honour and respect as Aegyptu read from scroll in his claws, a list of names compiled during the night from eye witnesses and previous team rosters.

He slowly made his way down the list, patient and methodic as he performed the formal ceremony which followed every battle that the Palaeozoic Sovereignty fought.

"...Field Trooper Fenrog Ballastrov – Second Claw. DarkTyrannomon. Killed in action. Two rank promotion to Field Officer – Third Claw... Field Officer Gyraed Torge – First Claw. DinoTigermon. Killed in action. Three rank promotion to Field Commander for self-sacrificing heroics... Field Trooper Nelia Hizak – First Claw. Stegomon. Missing in action. Two rank promotion to Field Officer – Second Claw..."

King Aegyptu spoke with not a tone of sorrow, but one of thorough respect for each member of the dead and missing whose names he read. Due to the way that digimon died, with their data particles dispersing upon deletion, it is extremely hard to be sure of a missing digimon's status unless somebody sees them die with their own eyes. It's for this reason that digimon missing from battle are usually automatically considered killed in action, but unconfirmed.

Strom stood with pain and weakness still clinging to his body. He was supported by Raizer, the ZekeGreymon standing to his right. On his opposite side was Ranney, who stood to the right of Gapsar. Like their comrades, their heads were bowed in respect.

"...Field Trooper Barik Kur – First Claw," Aegyptu continued, "Spinomon. Killed in action. Two rank promotion to Field Officer – Second Claw... Field Trooper Grodek Cardias – Second Claw. Allomon. Missing in action. Two rank promotion to Field Officer – Third Claw..."

"...Sky Guard Sarki Atilus. Pteromon. Killed in action. Three rank promotion to Sky Captain for self-sacrificing heroics..."

Strom shut his eyes in a pained grimace. He ignored the flash of pain that surged from his clenched hand and stood in silent respect. "Sarki..."

Beside him, Ranney glanced at his friend sadly. He knew that Strom had become close with the Pteromon during his time back in the Palaeozoic Sovereignty. Ranney saw the expression on the Spinomon's face and then decided to place his clawed foot on top of Strom's, gripping it reassuringly.

Strom opened his eyes in surprise, looking down at his foot. He then turned to Ranney. Ranney gave him a sad smile and nodded, hoping to comfort him. A surprised Strom stared into his eyes for a few moments before finally giving him a short nod of gratitude.

Ranney removed his foot and bowed his head again, prompting Strom to do the same.

King Aegyptu finished reading the names from the list and he bowed his head for a few moments of silence. In those moments, not even the wind spoke.

The Spinomon leader then opened his eyes. "May our brave comrades be at peace. Without their noble sacrifices, we would not have won today. We will live on, into tomorrow, for their sakes, never forgetting their bravery and pride."

Many soft, sober growls of agreement resounded from the ranks.

King Aegyptu nodded silently. "And let us also respect the dead of those who came to our aid today, the soldiers of the Dramon Empire."

Fewer growls, some reluctant, murmured from the soldiers, but the response was still firm.

Strom merely gave a grunt of respect, but inwardly, he knew that they wouldn't have lasted without their timely intervention. He also knew that he had the Dramon Empire's new establishment to thank for that.

He didn't want to begrudge the Dramon Empire anymore... He made that mistake with several others already. However, it would take him some time...

That line of thought caused Strom to close his fists with determination. There was one more thing that he wanted – no – had to do... It just depended on whether he could convince Braon to do a favour for him...

The night sky loomed over the Dramon Empire's capital. The army had returned home and the Dramon Council had been nearly tripping over themselves dealing with the aftermath of the previous day's events. Finally, with the setting of the sun, things had more or less calmed down and fallen into order. The tendrils of war that had been gripping at the world once again were severed and everyone could begin to rest easy again... in theory, at least.

Duroth relieved his bodyguards from their duties, politely shooing them off so that he wouldn't be disturbed. Erebus gave Duroth a short nod before sorely walking away from his employer, the red bandana from the battle still tied around his left bicep.

Duroth entered the sizeable bedroom of his. He closed the door behind him and breathed an exhausted sigh. The Dorbickmon high councilor took in the privacy of his large home. He was finally able to relax.

While Duroth hadn't necessarily underestimated the duties he would have by becoming the head of the Dramon Empire, they were still extremely draining to him, physically, mentally and emotionally.

The Dorbickmon gave a soft groan and undressed. He slowly pulled off his draconic armour with his tired arms, revealing the bandages tied around the nearly healed wounds on his chest and back. He winced slightly, but felt the pain quickly subside – a definite improvement from a few days ago, thanks to the healing skills of the Dramon Empire's physicians.

Duroth hung his spiked plate armour – consisting of the breastplate, gauntlets and leggings – on the armour rack beside his bed. Not wanting to do much else, he walked over to his bed, got on, and slid under the covers. As his sore muscles began to relax, he placed his clawed hands behind his head and looked up at the tall ceiling.

A cool, gentle, night breeze swept in from the open balcony opposite his bed. The cool breeze suddenly became slightly warmer as a large silhouette descended onto the parapet, blocking the moons and stars from Duroth's view. The Dorbickmon's gold and violet eyes calmly turned towards the wide opening.

Arado's form landed gracefully on the terrace. When he landed, he ceased the activity of the jet engines in his wings. He ducked his head under the opening, walked in, and closed the balcony's doors with his clawed tail. Upon entering the room, the MailBirdramon stood up fully and looked at Duroth with a tired smile.

"You're late," Duroth mused with a smirk. "That's very uncharacteristic of you."

"I know," Arado said, exhaustion mixed with humour in his otherwise calm voice. "There was so much to do. I have to give Imego some credit; being Lord Protector is not an easy task."

"It's nothing you can't handle," the Dorbickmon replied.

"Try telling me that yesterday when I was nearly relieved of my best feature," the blue dragon retorted with a small grin.

"Your head?" Duroth asked.

"No. My tail."

Duroth chuckled lightly in response. Arado sat down on a large cushion on the floor nearby. Upon taking some of the weight off his muscles, he looked at his Dorbickmon friend.

"Well, Duroth, it seems like your plan worked. Nobody suspects a thing."

The crimson drake turned and looked at Arado. "You make it sound like a grand conspiracy, Arado..."

"Well, we did bend the truth slightly, just by painting the situation a particular way," the Lord Protector responded. "I'm not blaming you. It's just a necessary part of politics."

Duroth sighed through his nostrils. "I'm aware..." he spoke softly, looking back up towards the ceiling.

Arado frowned, stood up and walked over to the Dorbickmon's bed. "You're upset..." he observed.

"Perhaps," Duroth replied, narrowing his eyes a little. "...Did we – no – did I do the right thing...? I can't help but feel like all of the deaths were my fault..."

"Don't be so arrogant," Arado told him with a soft frown. "I believe that you were right... Even if we did capture Ishton after you talked to him, there still would have been a battle. The so-called "Slayer Legion" was a group of fanatical remnants. I'm sure that he had second-in-commands who would have pressed the attack anyways. Those digimon didn't die just because you made a single decision..."

"I suppose, but-"

"But you still took advantage of the situation?" the MailBirdramon interjected rhetorically. "Yes, you did. You were acting strategically with the cards at your disposal in response to an unfavourable state of affairs. You were simply making the best of a bad situation, and, in my humble opinion, I believe you did a fantastic job at making us come out on top." Arado craned his head down in front of Duroth's. "What do you think Jormungand would have done had he been in your place? We would be at war again and the death toll would have been increased tenfold. You, Duroth R'Daruuk, did the best that you could do and your ideals saved a lot of lives. That's what I believe..."

Duroth stared at Arado for a few moments before smiling gratefully. "Yes... I suppose you're right," he responded. His grin wavered. "Still, though... Many digimon died for no good reason, yesterday. The blame may not be mine, but it doesn't make the situation any less tragic."

"That's true..."

"I want a list of the dead and a list of the wounded tomorrow," Duroth told him.

"Very well, but you're due for a long and satisfying rest, Duroth," Arado replied.

The Dorbickmon glanced at him with a smile. "I'm not sure it's that I want..."

Arado smirked. "I thought as much. You're going to have to work on your being so predictable, Duroth..."

Duroth chuckled. "Maybe you're right..."

Grinning fondly, the MailBirdramon looked down at him nodded. "To a brighter tomorrow," Arado spoke.

High Councilor Duroth smiled and nodded in response. "To a brighter tomorrow... Exactly how it should be..."

"Move over."

"No, you move over!

"I can't!"

"Well neither can I! Your big butt's pressing me against the side!"

"Yeah, well your smell is going to kill me before we even get there."

"I think that's your own bad breath, Strom. I've seen it kill Numemon before."

"Shut up, you lizards! You're giving me a headache!" a loud voice rumbled from around the two dinosaur digimon. "Just sit still and be quiet!"

Strom and Ranney both growled and sat down on the metal floor of the dark compartment. They were in the interior of a GigaSeadramon: an amphibious, cyberbiotic, sea serpent digimon of the Dramon family which has the capability to transport large a capacity of passengers or cargo inside it.

Strom winced and places his head against the metal wall next to him. "Look, whatever your name is-"

"Barri," the GigaSeadramon corrected.

"Barri. Whatever. Why do you have to swim so far underwater? The island's not even that far from shore. Can't you swim on the surface? I'm getting a splitting headache from the pressure!"

"Hey, the only reason I even agreed to transport you two at all is because I owe Braon a favour," Barri replied, glancing behind him. "I'm risking my reputation by carrying an Avenger around."

"I know; you're such a saint," Strom muttered sarcastically.

Ranney, who was beside him, trying to move away from the Spinomon for personal space, was looking greener than usual. "Can you at least not move around so much? I'm not feeling so good..." the DinoRexmon groaned.

"I did warn you when you volunteered to come, Ranney," Strom said, looking over to him.

"Who would have thought being in water would make me sick? I mean, we drink the stuff!" he complained.

Their GigaSeadramon transport rolled his eyes and swam up to the surface. "You land digimon are all the same when you get in water," Barri mumbled. "If your friend pukes inside me, you're both cleaning it up with your tongues!"

"That's wrong on so many levels," Strom muttered.

Ranney groaned dramatically and placed his head against the compartment's metal side. "I hope this three day trip will be worth it for you, Strom..." he whinged.

The Spinomon rolled his eyes. "I wanted to come alone, remember? You're the one who just had to insist on tagging along," Strom reminded him.

"Yeah, I had to keep you out of trouble," Ranney responded. "Plus I figured you could use the company."

"Well," he grumbled, "thanks... And for the love of the Sovereigns, keep your lunch down."

"What he said," Barri agreed. "By the way, why do you want to go to some tiny, no-name island off the coast anyways? There's nothing there aside from the view, but you could see from the beach. Are you going treasure hunting?"

"It's personal," Strom responded guardedly.

"Fine. Don't tell me. Just don't take too long," Barri grunted.

Strom went quiet and waited. As time passed and Ranney made idle chatter to take his mind off the silence and his stomach, the two scars on Strom's hand began to tingle. The tingle then began to turn into pins and needles. It gradually intensified from there.

The Spinomon grunted and held his pained hand with his opposite one. "What the hell? Why is it hurting now?" he wondered, looking down at it with a slight grimace. "In the past, I noticed it would only burn when my emotions were running high. I thought it had to do with my blood or something. There's no reason why it should be acting up now."

He raised an eyebrow in realisation. "The Wyrmflame. Is it because I'm n-?"

"We're here, lizards," Barri announced, slowing down. The compartment began to open from the side and the afternoon light shone in causing the pair of dinosaurs to wince.

They blinked the black spots caused by the brightness away and saw the shoreline of a small, sandy island. The surf calmly washed up on the shores, painting the sand brown before the waves were pulled back towards the sea again.

"Thanks for the ride, I guess," Strom said, stepping out of the GigaSeadramon and dropping heavily to the shallow water. His feet were sucked into the sand up to his knees, but he lifted his legs and pulled himself out, walking up to the shore.

Ranney took in an enjoyable breath of fresh, salty air, before jumping over to land on the sandy shore. He looked over at Strom, but the Spinomon's eyes were fixated on the middle of the small island.

Strom stared ahead of him, his emerald eyes burning brightly. His scars seared, seeming to intensify faintly when he took a step forwards. Ahead of him was a sword. It was erected vertically, the blade in the earth, stabbed into a rock on the sandy peak of the island. A gentle, azure flame flickered from the digital runes that were inscribed vertically down the length of the blade.

The runes spelled out a single word: Future.

Strom smiled fondly and walked towards it apprehensively.

"The fool," he spoke. A lighthearted whisper. "Even his weapon reeks of romanticism and poetry..."

Ranney frowned at his friend. The Spinomon was acting strange to him. Strom seemed both nostalgic and something else... "What is that sword?" he asked, being sure to tread cautiously with Strom, as the sword seemed to mean something important to him.

Strom approached the blade, ignoring the burning pain in his hand the closer he grew to it. "It's the Wyrmflame... Ragna's Wyrmflame..."

"Who's Ragna?" Ranney asked.

"One of the Avengers... He died in the final battle against Imego. Ragna and I... didn't always see eye to eye..." he recounted, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

The DinoRexmon nodded and backed off. He knew that this was something Strom probably wanted to do alone, so he walked back over to the shore where Barri was waiting for them.

Strom kneeled down in front of the sword. He outstretched his left hand tentatively. The scars flared up intensely, causing him to wince and retract his hand a little. He then glared with determination and reached forwards once again, taking the hilt of the sword in his left palm.

A pained growl ripped from his throat as he felt a torrent of power surge between himself and the sword. Strom grunted and retracted his hand feeling his veins pulsing with what he could only describe as something primal. He panted and looked down at his hand, seeing the scars burning a bright blue colour.

"Ragna..." he whispered. "Are you still here somewhere? Somewhere in that sword?" Strom asked.

"Do you know what's happening to me? Or why these scars still give me pain? Is this karma for holding onto my pain and inflicting it onto others?"

Strom grimaced and clenched his fist, his green eyes carefully inspecting the sword. "You know, I never had the chance to apologise to you... And now I never will," he thought wistfully."After all... an apology to a dead person is cheap. It means nothing..."

He looked down at his clenched hand. "All I can do is try to live like you would have wanted me to: putting the past behind us and moving towards out future. I can try to do that..."

The scarred hand unclenched and its muscles relaxed. The bright blue scars had died down in their intensity. Strom gazed down at his palm thoughtfully. "Sarki... Rai... Karasu... Valra... Ragna... I've changed, haven't I?

"No... I'm still changing... But... am I changing for the better? Can I really learn from my mistakes all by myself?"

Strom turned his head to the side, looking behind him to see Ranney lightheartedly chatting with Barri. "But I guess I'm not really alone, am I? I have Braon. And I have Ranney. I accepted him, so... maybe there is hope for me."

The Spinomon placed his hand on the sword again, using it to help support himself as he stood. Strom stood up straight and looked at the Wyrmflame. "I guess that battle proved Ranney and I's friendship, just like the final battle of the Civil War proved our's."

Strom frowned softly and turned away from the Wyrmflame, looking towards the rolling oceans. The cobalt waves splashed against one another as they rolled towards the shores.

"Well, Ragna... everyone..." Strom whispered, his eyes staring into the sparkling water.

"The future awaits us."