Chapter 31: Do What You Believe Is Right
Battle is not merely the result brought about by change. Perhaps, instead, one fights simply to avoid being changed by the world.
A heavy silence fell over the digital landscape. Andromon stood motionless, his mechanical optics fixed on the Digimon before him. LadyDevimon had reverted to her dark form, her slender silhouette wrapped in tattered leather and chains, dark energy rolling off her shoulders like a slow-burning mist. Yet, beneath that sinister exterior, her mind remained entirely flawless, sharp, and unbroken.
Watching her, the cyborg slowly accepted reality. This outcome did not align with his initial calculations, but as he processed the data, a new conclusion emerged. A LadyDevimon who possessed absolute control over her own darkness might, in many ways, be a far more suitable partner for Mizuki than a creature of pure, blinding light.
His internal gears whirred softly as he stopped dwelling on the variables. Andromon shifted his gaze away from the dark fallen angel and focused entirely on the young man standing nearby.
"Mizuki..." Andromon's synthetic voice carried a strange, resonant warmth. "The child chosen by fate."
Mizuki met the cyborg's gaze, his expression calm but attentive.
"I know your heart is weighed down by doubts about the future," Andromon continued, his metallic chassis beginning to hum with a low, vibrating frequency. "But before we speak of what is to come, allow me to reveal my true form."
The moment the words left his vocal processor, Andromon's body erupted into a blinding, incandescent light.
A massive surge of golden data chains materialized from the surrounding air, whipping around him in a torrential vortex. The mechanical plating of his cyborg body dissolved into pure digital code, rapidly restructuring, expanding, and forging itself into something entirely new. The blinding sphere of light stretched upward, taking the distinct, razor-sharp silhouette of a colossal, golden blade.
"Andromon... Mega Digivolution!"
The light shattered like glass, scattering digital fragments into the wind.
"Durandamon!"
Mizuki took a sharp breath, his eyes widening slightly. The being hovering before them had not taken the expected path. He had not evolved into his direct successor, HiAndromon, nor had he become the mechanical terror known as Machinedramon. Instead, he had become Durandamon, the entity bearing the legendary title of the ultimate holy sword.
Even knowing that Digimon digivolution was a vast, unpredictable web of possibilities, and that Andromon technically possessed this specific evolutionary route, seeing it manifest in reality was a shock. Yet, as the initial surprise faded, the pieces clicked into place. This explained everything. It explained why this particular Andromon possessed combat data and physical strength that completely eclipsed the standard parameters of his species.
"He was actually a Mega?!" LadyDevimon murmured, her crimson eyes wide with astonishment. Her clawed fingers twitched at her sides. She had just engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a being who had been hiding the power of a Mega-level powerhouse the entire time.
Hovering in the air, the golden sword entity—Durandamon—seemed to read the shock radiating from them. His voice, now echoing with an ancient, metallic resonance, spoke directly into their minds.
"The form of Andromon was merely a vessel to conceal my true power and identity from the eyes of the enemy," Durandamon explained, his golden blade gleaming under the digital sky. "All of my actions, all of my waiting, were in preparation for the arrival of the Chosen One."
The giant sword slowly rotated, the tip pointing downward. "Mizuki, with your intellect, you must have already deduced exactly what kind of existence orchestrated your arrival here. Have you not?"
Mizuki's eyes narrowed slightly, the corners of his mouth pressing into a thin line. "As expected..."
Durandamon's words served as the final puzzle piece, confirming the theory that had been quietly assembling itself in the back of Mizuki's mind.
"Homeostasis," Mizuki said, his voice steady.
Hearing his own deduction spoken aloud brought an unexpected wave of relief. The invisible pressure that had been pressing down on his chest eased significantly. The unknown was always more terrifying than the known.
"So," Mizuki continued, tilting his head slightly. "What exactly does Homeostasis want from me? Am I supposed to save this world?"
Faced with the direct question, Durandamon offered no confirmation, nor did he issue a denial. The golden entity simply looked deeply at Mizuki, a deep weight in his silent gaze.
Slowly, the massive, floating entity began to shrink. The blinding aura condensed, folding inward until the giant Digimon transformed into a beautifully crafted, human-sized longsword. With a heavy, resonant thud, the blade plunged itself into the earth directly at Mizuki's feet, the golden hilt waiting patiently.
"Durandamon... turned into a sword?" LadyDevimon blinked, floating closer to inspect the weapon, her dark wings folding tightly behind her back.
Mizuki stepped forward, his eyes tracing the complex golden patterns etched into the blade. "Among Digimon, there is a very specific, rare classification," he explained softly to his partner. "Their evolutionary path is not designed to turn them into independent fighters, but rather into peerless weapons. They are known as Legend-Arms."
He gestured toward the golden hilt. "Durandamon holds the title of the Legendary Holy Sword. He is widely considered the absolute pinnacle among weapon-type Digimon capable of taking the form of a blade."
"Does that mean he is the strongest sword in the entire Digital World?" LadyDevimon asked, leaning in to examine the glowing metal.
Mizuki let out a quiet, dry chuckle, his expression turning somewhat complicated. "I wouldn't go that far. At least, based on the data in my memory, there are quite a few absurdly powerful 'swords' running around out there."
His mind briefly flashed to the ridiculous power scaling of the digital universe. Sure, Durandamon held the official title of the strongest weapon-type Digimon. But did that specific category account for Ouryumon, who could literally transform into the Ultimate Battle Blade Ouryuken? Did it account for Omnimon, who could become the world-ending Omega Blade? If those world-breaking entities were thrown into the mix, calling Durandamon the absolute strongest felt like a stretch.
Ultimately, the official lore and settings of the Digital World were best taken with a massive grain of salt.
Just as Mizuki was busy mentally critiquing the inconsistencies of digital lore, a faint, fading voice echoed from the blade buried in the dirt.
"Mizuki... take hold of me."
The voice was weak, stripped of its previous booming resonance.
"To transform into the Legendary Sword... to be wielded by your hands... this has always been my sole mission. And now, my purpose is finally reaching its conclusion..."
Mizuki's brow furrowed. The tone of the voice sent a sudden chill down his spine. He immediately pushed aside his internal jokes and dropped to one knee beside the blade.
"Durandamon, what are you talking about?" Mizuki demanded, his voice tightening. "What exactly is happening to your data right now?"
The sword did not answer his question. The golden glow pulsing along the metal began to dim, resembling a dying ember.
"Lord Homeostasis... did not give me any rigid instructions to pass on to you," Durandamon whispered, his voice dissolving into static. "I was only told to convey a single message: 'Just do whatever you want to do.'"
The light flickered one final time.
"'Do what you believe is right'..."
With those final, echoing words, the golden sword fell completely silent. The hum of digital life vanished. The faint vibration of a DigiCore ceased to exist.
Mizuki reached out, his fingers wrapping around the smooth, cool metal of the hilt. He pulled upward. The blade slid free from the earth with a soft ring. Despite its grand appearance, the weapon carried almost no physical weight, feeling perfectly balanced and surprisingly light in his grip, yet possessing an obvious, lethal substance.
"Mizu..."
LadyDevimon stepped up beside him, her crimson eyes fixed on the beautiful longsword resting in his hands. Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Andromon... no, Durandamon. He..."
"Yeah," Mizuki replied, his voice quiet. He ran his thumb over the crossguard, feeling the cold, lifeless metal. "He's gone."
He closed his eyes, carefully sensing the feedback from the weapon. There was no consciousness left inside. No heartbeat of data. "This sword is now just that... a sword. To forge the ultimate weapon for me to wield, Durandamon permanently sacrificed his own DigiCore."
LadyDevimon looked down at the blade, a storm of complex emotions swirling in her chest. Her clawed hands clenched. She was thrilled that her partner had obtained such a magnificent, powerful weapon to protect himself, but a heavy knot of regret formed in her throat for the stoic cyborg who had guided her through her own darkness.
Unable to process the conflicting feelings, she shook her head, forcibly casting the sorrow aside. The digital world was cruel. Sacrifices were made. As long as this sacrifice kept Mizuki safe, she would accept it.
Mizuki stood in silence, staring at the golden blade. He did not suffer from the delusion that his personal charm was somehow great enough to convince a Mega-level entity to willingly erase its own existence for him.
If Homeostasis was directly pulling the strings behind the scenes, the sheer scale of the threats waiting for him in the future would likely dwarf anything Tai and the original Chosen Children ever faced.
Yet, as Mizuki gripped the hilt, his hands did not tremble. He felt no desire to run.
His previous life had been a fragile, suffocating existence trapped in a failing body. This new life, this healthy, breathing, capable body, was a gift granted to him by this very world. If paying the rent for this second chance meant stepping onto a battlefield, he would gladly pay it.
As for the grand concepts of fate, destiny, and divine will orchestrated by unseen gods? Mizuki scoffed internally. He had no interest in blindly bowing to prophecy. But he also wasn't going to act like a contrarian fool, deliberately sabotaging the world just to prove a point about free will.
Whether it was karma, destiny, or the calculations of a god-machine, Mizuki would simply follow his own compass. He would do what his logic and his heart told him was right.
Nothing more. Nothing less.
With his resolve settled, Mizuki lifted the holy sword, inspecting its gleaming edge.
"It's a beautiful weapon," Mizuki murmured, tilting his head. "But walking around carrying a giant golden broadsword is a bit too flashy. I wonder if it can change its shape when I'm not in combat? Something a little more... practical."
The very second the thought crystallized in his mind, the blinding gold steel rippled like water. The legendary holy sword warped, the metal softening and shifting colors until, with a soft click, it transformed into a completely ordinary, unremarkable black parasol.
Mizuki blinked. He stared at the wooden handle in his hand, then at the neatly folded black fabric.
A moment of stunned silence passed. Then, a deeply satisfied, utterly delighted smile spread across his face.
"Oh, this is absolutely perfect."
In his past life, albinism had made the sun his absolute worst enemy. Even now, possessing a perfectly healthy body, the phantom instinct to hide from direct sunlight remained deeply ingrained in his psychology. It was the entire reason he constantly wore his jacket zipped up.
Having a parasol to block the digital sun was a massive comfort. But more, Mizuki's mind immediately latched onto the tactical camouflage.
He pictured the scenario perfectly: A terrifying enemy approaches, laughing arrogantly as Mizuki casually steps forward, swinging a flimsy, harmless-looking black parasol. The enemy doesn't even bother to dodge, assuming the umbrella will snap on impact. And in that exact fraction of a second, the hidden, world-cleaving power of a Mega-level holy sword activates, instantly deleting them from existence.
The sheer, unadulterated comedy of that moment would be a sight to behold.
Thinking of the absolute shock on his future enemies' faces, the smile on Mizuki's face grew wider, curling into a distinctly mischievous grin.
Hehehe.
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