Chapter 85: Do You Know How Much a Serving of Digital Meat Costs? Five Hundred Thousand US Dollars!
Mizuki sat in quiet concentration, his mind sifting through the digital anomalies that had plagued his companions during their recent skirmish. The dark network had invaded them, leaving behind a lingering taint that he was determined to eradicate. He began his analysis by stripping away the superficial layers of the phenomenon. To the naked eye, the dark network felt like a maelstrom of pure chaos, disorder, and suffocating madness. Yet, beneath that terrifying exterior, the fundamental laws of the Digital World remained absolute. It was, at its core, just another string of data.
The anomaly lay in its structure. Unlike the clean, self-sustaining codes that formed ordinary Digimon, this dark data refused to operate within stable parameters. A superficial glance suggested that this inherent instability was the root cause of its chaotic nature. But as Mizuki pushed his Digi-Soul deeper into the corrupted code, peeling back the layers of digital rot, a chilling realization washed over him. He had the cause and effect entirely backward.
The dark network was not chaotic because it lacked stability. The chaos and disorder were deliberate, weaponized traits that actively devoured its own structural integrity.
Logic dictated that a truly unstable network could never span an entire desert region, let alone maintain the complex bandwidth required to transmit real-time information. The network was tearing itself apart from the inside out. To stave off its continuous, inevitable collapse, the dark data acted like a starving beast. It frantically invaded and consumed any foreign data it touched, cannibalizing its surroundings just to maintain its sprawling form. Yet, this ravenous consumption was nothing more than a temporary bandage over a fatal wound, merely delaying its ultimate destruction.
Mizuki formulated his countermeasure. He needed to forcefully stabilize the viral data festering inside his partners. If he could arrest the chaotic degradation, he could theoretically repurpose the malicious code into a pure energy source to strengthen them. Should the integration fail, he would simply extract the neutralized code and discard it.
He channeled his willpower, forcing the erratic strings of dark data into rigid, orderly sequences. To his deep surprise, the moment the chaos ceased, his partners' digital cores eagerly drank in the neutralized data. There was no rejection. No friction. The foreign code slipped into their internal matrices as smoothly as a missing puzzle piece snapping into place. It felt entirely too natural, as if this dark data had originally belonged to the Digimon themselves.
A cold knot tightened in Mizuki's stomach. If the data assimilated this perfectly, it implied a horrifying origin. This sprawling, mindless dark network... might have once been a living, breathing Digimon.
His breath caught in his throat. What kind of monstrous entity could completely erase a Digimon's life and consciousness, stripping away everything until nothing remained but a hollow instinct driven by pure malice and madness?
Was it Datamon? He quickly discarded the thought. The mechanical tactician was cunning, but completely lacked the sheer, overwhelming scale required to orchestrate a digital atrocity of this magnitude.
Sensing the steady, healthy pulses of his companions' digital cores, Mizuki slowly withdrew his Digi-Soul. He exhaled a long breath, shifting his full mental capacity toward identifying the architect behind this nightmare.
Three prime suspects surfaced in his mind. The first was Apocalymon, the ultimate amalgamation of despair lurking just beyond the firewall. The second was Daemon, the cloaked Demon Lord whose whereabouts remained entirely unknown—a schemer who had been quietly planting seeds of ruin across the Digital World since his appearance in the second era. The third was GranDracmon, the vampiric sovereign Mizuki had crossed paths with deep within the Dark Area.
He eliminated GranDracmon almost immediately. The ancient vampire operated with the eccentric, isolated arrogance of a bored aristocrat. Engineering a mindless, scrambling virus was entirely too tasteless for his refined sensibilities. GranDracmon sought twisted amusement, not mindless destruction and chaotic static.
That left Apocalymon and Daemon. Both possessed the motive and the apocalyptic power to pull this off.
Yet, the more Mizuki analyzed the data's behavior, the more the scales tipped toward Daemon. Apocalymon was the physical manifestation of evolutionary failure, a collective mass of resentment from Digimon who had perished in the cold void of non-digivolution. Any residual data left behind by that entity would be saturated with a bitter, stagnant refusal to grow. It made absolutely no sense for Apocalymon's data to act as a catalyst for growth.
The evidence pointed in the exact opposite direction. First LadyDevimon, and then MetalGreymon (Virus), had both successfully breached the threshold from the Champion Level to the Ultimate Level by absorbing this very power. If this hidden evolutionary opportunity was the true core concealed beneath the dark network's chaotic exterior, the conclusion was obvious.
This was absolutely the handiwork of Daemon.
The Demon Lord was capitalizing on the cosmic distraction. While Homeostasis and Apocalymon were locked in their endless, high-stakes war over the fate of the Digital World, Daemon was quietly maximizing the ambient power of darkness from the shadows. As for whether the cloaked villain intended to mass-produce a loyal army of corrupted subordinates, or was simply fattening up the local Digimon population to harvest them as high-grade ingredients for his own consumption... only Daemon knew the truth.
Mizuki pinched the bridge of his nose, a heavy silence settling over him.
His deep contemplation was suddenly shattered by a rising cacophony of voices. His consciousness snapped back to the physical realm. He blinked, the harsh desert light filtering through his eyelashes. A very familiar, highly dramatic voice echoed across the dunes. He tilted his head, a faint look of confusion crossing his face as he turned toward the commotion.
A short distance away, the pack of Dobermon that had been driven into a feral frenzy by the dark network had completely stabilized. Thanks to his data adjustments, they had reverted to their Rookie forms, a small crowd of BlackGatomon now sitting attentively in the sand.
However, they were not resting. Instead, they formed a captivated semi-circle around LadyDevimon. The fallen angel Digimon stood at the center of the makeshift amphitheater, her arms sweeping through the air as she delivered what appeared to be a fiercely impassioned speech. Mizuki exchanged a dry look with Belle, his partner, before the two quietly closed the distance. As they drew near, LadyDevimon's theatrical voice rang out with crystal clarity.
"Have any of you ever lived outside these barren wastes?" LadyDevimon demanded, pacing back and forth like a seasoned revolutionary. "Do you have any idea how much a single, standard portion of Digital Meat costs in the civilized zones?"
She paused for dramatic effect, letting the silence hang over the wide-eyed BlackGatomon.
"Five hundred thousand US dollars!"
Mizuki stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping slightly. LadyDevimon thrust her hand forward, splaying her five razor-sharp claws wide to emphasize the number.
"I repeat! Five hundred thousand US dollars!"
Mizuki blinked slowly. He was well aware that in this particular era of the Digital World, the local economy bizarrely operated on US currency. But the currency itself was not what short-circuited his brain. It was that highly specific, utterly ridiculous number. Five hundred thousand. Where had she even picked up that scam-artist rhetoric?
"And let me tell you a harsh truth!" LadyDevimon continued, her voice dripping with righteous indignation. "That exorbitant amount of money isn't even enough to fill the gaps in a MetalGreymon's teeth!"
A few dozen yards away, the massive, blue-scaled MetalGreymon (Virus), who was currently busy untangling a cluster of residual dark network cables, paused. The giant cyborg dinosaur slowly turned his head toward the gathering, a massive, visible question mark practically hovering over his horned skull.
"Those arrogant tyrants who crown themselves 'Great Kings'!" LadyDevimon spat, her crimson eyes flashing with theatrical fury. "They promised us salvation! They claimed they brought us a chance to survive, a glorious opportunity for digivolution! And what did we actually get? We got nothing but static and madness!"
She slammed a fist into her open palm. "Is it simply because we are low-level Digimon? Are we meant to be discarded? No! This is a fundamental betrayal! They are a cabal of shameful, pathetic traitors!"
By this point, LadyDevimon was fully immersed in her role. She ground her teeth together, twisting her beautiful features into a mask of ferocious, revolutionary wrath. The BlackGatomon nodded along, completely enthralled by the fiery rhetoric.
But a fraction of a second later, the dark, oppressive aura surrounding her vanished entirely. The ferocious scowl melted away. Her voice maintained its commanding volume, but the biting anger was instantly replaced by a tone of deep, almost religious reverence.
"Therefore, my brothers and sisters, we need a true leader!" she declared, her voice echoing with manufactured awe. "We need a Great King with actual foresight!"
Basking in the starry-eyed gazes of the BlackGatomon, LadyDevimon raised both hands toward the sky, clenching her clawed fingers into tight fists.
"Or perhaps, we need a true, gentle Divine Sovereign! A ruler who will genuinely consider the welfare and prosperity of us everyday Digimon!" She spun around, her dark tresses whipping through the air. "And now, my friends, he has finally arrived!"
With a grand, sweeping gesture, LadyDevimon pointed dramatically over her shoulder.
"He—no, wait, He!" she corrected herself, elevating the pronoun with maximum theatrical weight. "He will be the one to lead all Digimon toward a bright, prosperous future—"
Mizuki stood exactly where she was pointing. A perfectly serene, closed-eye smile was plastered across his face.
LadyDevimon froze. The impassioned, revolutionary speech died instantly in her throat.
Under LadyDevimon's suddenly horrified gaze, Mizuki took a slow, deliberate step forward. Belle trotted loyally at his side, her expression unreadable. Mizuki maintained that terrifyingly gentle smile as he closed the distance, stopping just inches from the fallen angel.
"LadyDevimon," Mizuki murmured, his voice as smooth as silk. "Please, do go on."
He tilted his head, his smile widening just a fraction. "Why stop now? You were just getting to the best part."
He took another slow step forward, forcing her to lean back slightly. "Tell me more. Even though I am not a particularly big fan of being paraded around like a cult leader, we are companions, aren't we? As your dear companion, I am absolutely thrilled to hear your unfiltered thoughts on my divine sovereignty."
He reached down to his side. "After all..."
The metallic ring of steel sliding from its scabbard cut sharply through the desert air. Mizuki casually drew his Holy Sword. He channeled a pulse of his Digi-Soul into the weapon. Triggered by the latent power of the Dragon Shield resting on his arm, the straight blade instantly erupted into a column of roaring, blinding flames.
The intense heat washed over the stunned crowd of BlackGatomon. A blazing sword held by a smiling human had a very distinct, universal way of striking absolute terror into the hearts of all living beings.
Mizuki rested the flat of the burning blade casually against his shoulder, the fire reflecting brightly in his dark eyes. "I'm not some kind of unreasonable devil, am I?" he chimed, his tone practically singing with mischievous malice.
LadyDevimon swallowed hard. She slowly lowered her dramatic pointing finger, her crimson eyes locked onto the roaring flames inches from her face.
"...Um. Sovereign Mizuki."
"Hmm?" Mizuki hummed pleasantly, not breaking eye contact.
"...Can we perhaps reconcile?" she asked, her voice dropping an octave, completely stripped of its former bravado. "Right here? Right now?"
The dancing firelight cast long, flickering shadows across Mizuki's face. His normally gentle, endearing features suddenly looked entirely demonic. The smile remained, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"LadyDevimon," Mizuki whispered, the flames crackling loudly in the tense silence. "You must be joking, right?"
[Akarin's Note:
Enjoying the story? Dropping a quick review, comment, or Power Stone means the world to me and keeps these daily updates flowing!
Want to read 50 chapters ahead or just want to help keep a shameless translator alive? (My livelihood actually depends on this, haha 😭). You can support me directly here:
(P.S. Just remove the brackets and replace the [.] with a regular dot . to use the links!)
✨ Patreon (50 Advanced Chapters): patreon[.]com/AkarinTL
☕ Ko-fi (Support / Sponsor): ko-fi[.]com/AkarinTL
🔗 All My Links: linktr[.]ee/AkarinTL
Thank you so much for reading and keeping this project alive!]