His power had dropped by more than half under the sunlight—confidence shaken. If Gatomon ever evolved into Angewomon, could he even withstand her signature Holy Arrow? At his current level, it felt precarious. Without reaching Ultimate form, he'd be at the mercy of stronger foes—like the Dark Masters lurking in the depths or that cunning LadyDevimon scheming in the shadows.
The discomfort grew unbearable. Daniel instinctively drew on the divine gift from Eden: the sacred scripture imparted by the Son, a technique to refine and strengthen the soul through focused cultivation. Thanks to the Trinity's direct enlightenment, he skipped years of trial and error—he could circulate it effortlessly now.
Activating the method, the burning sting from the sun eased slightly. His strength recovered somewhat, though still heavily suppressed.
*The Lord's gift is no joke. Even basic circulation counters the weakness already. But without a partner for true dual cultivation... progress is painfully slow.*
Daniel shook his head in regret, feeling the soul power trickle in at a snail's pace.
The scripture focused purely on soul refinement—essentially a divine dual-cultivation art. Created by heavenly will, its potency far exceeded mortal techniques. But solo practice? Glacially slow.
Too weakened to roam freely, and unwilling to change Myotismon's nocturnal habits overnight, he retreated to the shadowed depths of Dark City—places untouched by light.
No coffin naps for him—that was too morbid. Instead, he spent the daylight hours cultivating the soul technique while drilling Myotismon's skills to muscle memory.
He refused to be a stepping stone for anyone. He was the great demon king here to shatter false worlds—not fade into obscurity in this one.
Two days passed quickly. DemiDevimon reported that the interference from the real world had intensified: the scattered dark forces were regrouping under new leadership. Three key emblems of power had ignited among the opposing side.
But those two days had been enough. Daniel had fully mastered Myotismon's arsenal—the moves were simple, familiar from countless rewatches. What he lacked was real combat experience. In a true fight, he could probably only tap 60-70% of his potential.
Shifting his gaze from Gatomon's impassive face, he met DemiDevimon's fawning grin.
"Courage, hope, friendship... those emblems are starting to shine again."
"But Myotismon-sama, not all are active yet—four remain dormant. With your power, those meddlers stand no chance!"
DemiDevimon flattered shamelessly.
"Where are they now?" Daniel asked.
"Right in the forest just below Dark City. Probably settling in for the night."
DemiDevimon smirked, and a vision appeared before them: a group of opposing warriors gathered around a campfire in the woods.
"Prepare yourselves. Tonight, we crush them."
Daniel murmured, then flicked his cape and strode into the castle. Inside waited a luxurious aerial carriage—pulled by a mature-stage virus Digimon. Myotismon had lived lavishly.
The carriage soared under the full moon, DemiDevimon and Gatomon gripping the sides tightly. Both had been thoroughly disciplined by the original—obedient, saving Daniel the trouble.
In the moonlit sky, the deathly carriage raced forward, trailing mysterious black mist. At night, Myotismon's restrictions vanished—power surged unbound.
If he could find suitable partners for dual cultivation—beautiful, powerful females—he could overcome the light weakness entirely and ascend further.
But options were slim in this world. Even now, he felt a headache coming on. The few attractive Digimon were either too weak or aligned against him.
*Focus. If they're appealing, claim them. Morality be damned—I'm the evil vampire lord now. The Trinity would understand... right?*
In this anime realm, he intended to live without restraint. That was the only way to make it thrilling.
Deep in the forest near Dark City, the opposing group relaxed by their fire after days of travel. Their partner Digimon rested against trees.
Suddenly the sky darkened—the bright moon shrouded in unnatural gloom. The only light came from the faint campfire glow.
Darkness arrived swiftly, then parted. Above, silhouetted against the moon, a grand carriage drawn by a dark Digimon descended from the heavens.
"What... is that?" one warrior gasped.
"Some kind of sky chariot? Like a demon's ride."
"No—those are evil Digimon. Everyone, stay alert!"
A partner Digimon cried out at the sight of the virus-pulling carriage.
"Haha! This time it's Myotismon-sama himself! Let's see you run now!"
DemiDevimon crowed triumphantly, riding high on borrowed might.
Daniel leaped from the carriage—not falling, but suspended mid-air by a swarm of bats.
Black cape billowing, noble bearing, devilishly handsome features—his presence outshone even the moon.
"So handsome... how can someone that gorgeous be evil? You must be mistaken!"
One of the group stared up dreamily.
"Snap out of it! That's a Digimon—scan him!"
Another frantically typed on a device, pulling up data.
Myotismon? Perfect level? Signature moves?
"Impossible... the database shows only question marks! All we get is his name—Myotismon!"
Shock rippled through them.
"No way—how can there be no full profile?"
They crowded around, faces etched with confusion and alarm.
"But there's no mistake. Even changed, that's definitely Myotismon—a terrifying Perfect-level Digimon!"
The partner Digimon tensed, staring up at the figure in the sky.
Daniel smiled coldly, crimson eyes gleaming.
"Let's begin."