Will be pausing updates for this for 2 weeks. Want to focus on writing my original novel.
***
I stare at the device in my hand. It's warm. Alive. Like it's breathing with me.
I can feel Impmon. Not just beside me—inside me. His fear, his stubbornness, his stupid pride. His loyalty. It's all there, tangled up with my own heartbeat, and I don't know where I end and he begin.
Shaujinmon takes a step back. The water around him churns, agitated. His burning eyes are wide.
"No," he says. The layered voice cracks. "That's not—you're not a Tamer. You're nothing. You're—"
"I'm his partner," I say.
The words come out steady. Sure. Like I've known them my whole life.
Ethan's voice carries from somewhere above. "JESSICA!"
I glance up. He's grinning. Actually grinning, even with half the construction site in ruins and his dragon picking itself out of rubble. His eyes are bright with something I've never seen directed at me before.
Pride.
Impmon and I look at each other. He's still smoking from the fire wall, ribs heaving, one arm hanging wrong. But his eyes—those sharp green eyes—are clear.
"So," he says. "You got one of those things too."
"Looks like it."
"You know what this means, right? You're stuck with me now. No returns. No exchanges."
I almost laugh. "Wouldn't want it any other way."
The Digivice pulses in my hand. The screen glows brighter, and a single word fills it:
DIGIVOLUTION.
I look at Impmon. He looks at me. Something passes between us—not words, not thoughts, just certainty.
"Ready?" I ask.
He grins. That sharp, reckless, beautiful grin.
"I was born ready."
I raise the Digivice. My hand doesn't shake. My voice doesn't waver.
"Impmon—Digivolve!"
The light erupts.
Impmon's body dissolves into data—streams of purple and gold that spiral upward, faster and faster, compressing into an egg of blinding light. The egg cracks. The shell explodes.
And he stands there.
Beelzemon.
He's tall. Taller than anyone I've ever seen. A dark biker's leather outfit covers his frame, reinforced with armor plates that look like they could take a missile hit. A long jacket billows behind him even though there's no wind. His face is half-hidden behind a violet mask, and silver-blond hair flows from his head like a metallic waterfall. A metallic tail extends from his lower back, swaying with predatory grace.
He opens his eyes. They burn red.
In each hand, he holds a massive shotgun. The Berenjena. They look like they were built to kill gods.
Beelzemon rolls his shoulders. Cracks his neck. Looks down at his hands like he's meeting an old friend.
He turns to me. The mask hides most of his face, but I can see the smirk.
"Not bad," he says. His voice is deep. Commanding. Nothing like Impmon's sharp pitch. "Not bad at all."
Shaujinmon's water recoils.
Beelzemon raises both shotguns and aims them at the monster that threatened me.
"My turn," he says.
I can feel everything.
Not just the cold night air or the ache in my ribs or the way my fingers grip the Digivice so hard it might crack. I feel him. Beelzemon. His power thrums through the bond like a second pulse, hot and wild and barely contained. It's terrifying. It's exhilarating.
It's mine.
Shaujinmon's water surges forward, a wall of corrupted liquid that reeks of decay. Beelzemon doesn't flinch. He raises both Berenjena and fires.
The twin blasts tear through the water wall, vaporizing it instantly. Steam explodes outward, and Shaujinmon staggers back, his robes soaked, his beads flickering.
"You dare," Shaujinmon snarls. That layered voice is cracking, splitting between his own fury and something older underneath. "You DARE raise a weapon against me, Impmon? After everything I offered you?"
Beelzemon chambers two new rounds. The sound echoes off the construction site walls like a heartbeat.
"Name's Beelzemon," he says flatly. "Impmon's gone. You're talking to someone else now."
I can't help it. A grin splits my face. "He's got a point. You should update your records."
Shaujinmon's eyes burn brighter. The water around him churns, rising into tendrils that lash out in every direction. One snakes toward me, and I dodge—barely. The tip grazes my shoulder, and the fabric of my costume dissolves on contact.
"Okay, that's disgusting," I mutter.
"Stay behind me," Beelzemon says.
"No."
"Jessica—"
"I said no." I plant my feet. "We're partners. That means side by side."
He glances at me. Even behind that mask, I can feel his exasperation through the bond. But there's something else there too. Respect.
"Fine," he says. "Try not to die."
"No promises."
Ethan's voice cuts through the chaos. "BurningGreymon, Angewomon, LadyDevimon—flank him! Don't let him concentrate his power!"
The three Digimon move like they've been fighting together for years. BurningGreymon charges from the left, Corona Blaster charging in his arm cannons. Angewomon soars above, Celestial Arrow nocked and ready. LadyDevimon sweeps in from the right, chains of shadow energy coiling around her fists.
Shaujinmon spins, his staff whipping through the air. A wave of dark water crashes into BurningGreymon, sending him skidding across the concrete. Angewomon's arrow strikes Shaujinmon's shoulder, and he screams—a sound that's half-human, half-something ancient and furious.
"Pathetic!" Shaujinmon roars. "All of you! You think your bonds make you strong? Your bonds are CHAINS!"
He slams his staff into the ground. The water erupts upward, forming a dome around him. Tendrils shoot out in every direction, grabbing at Angewomon's wings, wrapping around LadyDevimon's ankles, slamming into BurningGreymon's chest.
"Beelzemon!" I shout.
He's already moving. Both Berenjena roar in rapid succession, each shot precise, each one severing a water tendril. The dome cracks. Shaujinmon stumbles, and for a moment, I can see the beads on his necklace—three of them now fractured, leaking dark energy like blood from a wound.
"You were nothing," Shaujinmon spits, fixing his burning gaze on Beelzemon. "A scrap. A failed soldier. I gave you purpose. I gave you a place."
Beelzemon walks forward. Slow. Deliberate. Each step cracks the concrete beneath his boots.
"You gave me a leash," he says. "There's a difference."
He fires again. The shot catches Shaujinmon in the chest, and the demon staggers back, his form flickering. The water around him turns black, then purple, then something that has no color at all.
"You'll regret this," Shaujinmon hisses. "The Demon Lords will hear of this. They will come for you. For all of you."
"Let them come," I say.
I don't know where the words come from. Maybe from the bond. Maybe from somewhere deeper. But they feel right.
Shaujinmon's eyes lock onto me. For a moment, I feel his will pressing against my mind—cold, invasive, demanding. It slides off me like water off glass.
Beelzemon's power. Our bond. It's a wall he can't breach.
"No," Shaujinmon whispers. "Impossible."
"Everything's possible," I say. "That's the point."
Ethan's voice rings out. "Now! Everyone, now!"
BurningGreymon unleashes Wildfire Tsunami. Angewomon fires Heaven's Charm. LadyDevimon sends Darkness Wave crashing forward. And Beelzemon—
Beelzemon raises both Berenjena, and I feel it through the bond. Every ounce of power he has. Every scrap of rage and loyalty and stubborn, reckless love. It flows through me, and I channel it back, amplifying it, pushing it forward.
"DOUBLE IMPACT!" Beelzemon roars.
The twin blasts merge with the combined assault of every Digimon on the field. Light and dark and fire and water collide in a single, devastating strike that hits Shaujinmon dead center.
The explosion is blinding.
When the light fades, Shaujinmon is on his knees. His robes are shredded. His staff is cracked. The beads on his necklace shatter one by one, each one releasing a wail of trapped energy that dissipates into the night air.
He looks up at us. His eyes are dimming.
"This... isn't over," he rasps. "The war... is coming..."
"Yeah," Beelzemon says, lowering his weapons. "We'll be ready."
Shaujinmon's body dissolves. Not into an egg. Not into data. Just... dark energy, scattering like ash in the wind, carried away into nothing.
Silence.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My legs wobble. Beelzemon catches me with one arm—gentle, despite the armor, despite the guns.
"You did good," he says.
"We did good," I correct.
He huffs. Through the bond, I feel something warm. Something that might be a smile.
***
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