Chapter 39: Dawn is Coming
"Um... Taichi, are you really going to do this?" Izzy adjusted his laptop, his fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard.
"Enough, Izzy, you do not need to persuade me anymore! My mind is made up!"
Izzy opened his mouth, staring at Yagami Taichi's fiercely motivated posture. He tried to squeeze out a single word of reason, but after a long, agonizing moment of silence, he simply let his shoulders slump. Persuasion was a lost cause.
The other children were already getting swept up in the bizarre atmosphere. Even the usually cool-headed Ishida Matt stood off to the side, a strange, contemplative glint in his eyes.
Tentomon floated over and gently patted Izzy's hand with a red claw. "Izzy, all you need to do right now is smile."
"Smile... huh?" Izzy muttered. Recalling the absolute absurdity he had witnessed just moments prior, he let out a long, defeated sigh and accepted his reality.
"Gather your courage! Let your emotions boil!" Taichi roared, dropping into a wide martial arts stance. "Digi-Soul! Now is the time—"
He threw a blinding flurry of punches at the massive tree trunk in front of him. "Hokuto— Ah, no, the Yagami Hundred-Crack Fist! Ora Ora Ora Ora Ora Ora—!"
"Taichi is so cool! I will join in too!" Agumon cheered, completely feeding off his partner's chaotic energy. He opened his jaws, unleashing a rapid-fire volley of his special attack. "Baby Flame!"
Izzy simply stared blankly.
Standing nearby, Aegiochusmon and Kari watched the spectacle unfold. Aegiochusmon crossed his arms, his expression a mix of utter confusion and solemn respect. He stated flatly that he did not understand the logic, but he fully supported the sheer momentum of the display.
As for Kari? Her bright eyes practically sparkled. Her entire demeanor radiated one simple truth: Everything big brother does is absolutely right.
And just like that, a highly infectious, chuunibyou-fueled craze of screaming attack names at the top of their lungs swept through the DigiDestined.
Meanwhile, the actual culprit responsible for instilling this ridiculous behavior had already slipped away, setting off on his own journey under the cover of dusk.
File Island. Somewhere high above the dense forest canopy.
LadyDevimon's dark wings cut through the chilling night air. Even with her impressive flight speed, the sky had completely blackened by the time she and Mizuki arrived in the target sector.
Normally, this forest would be teeming with nocturnal life, filled with the rustling of leaves and the distant cries of wild Digimon. Now, it exuded a suffocating, deadly silence. The shadows below felt hollow. Devimon had clearly swept through this territory, harvesting data so ruthlessly that Mizuki could barely detect a single trace of living Digimon in the woods.
"Mizu, are you really okay?" LadyDevimon's voice drifted back to him, laced with a heavy, unmistakable tension.
Mizuki shifted his grip slightly, turning his head to offer her a reassuring nod. "I am fine. There are plenty of Digimon gathered back at the Village of Beginnings. Even if Devimon decides to launch an ambush while we are away, as long as they stick together and hold the line, they should not face too much trouble."
He paused, scanning the lifeless treetops below. "Besides, even if Devimon consumes a massive amount of data, he still requires time to digest and integrate it—"
"No, Mizu, you know that is not what I meant!" LadyDevimon snapped softly, cutting him off.
Mizuki blinked. He looked up and caught the deep, swirling anxiety reflected in her scarlet eyes. He softened his posture and immediately reached out, gently squeezing her hand.
"Do not worry. I am perfectly fine," he said, his tone dropping to a warm, comforting register. "Under the blessing of my Digi-Soul, my physical fitness far exceeds what it used to be. Right now, I am still full of energy."
Despite his gentle assurances, LadyDevimon's gaze remained clouded with an unyielding worry. She held onto him a fraction tighter.
Seeing her distress, Mizuki let out a quiet, helpless sigh. "LadyDevimon, thank you for caring about me so much. However, our window of opportunity is incredibly narrow right now."
His expression turned serious. "Devimon has already consumed Bearmon and started down the path toward the peak Mega level. Although we do not know exactly how much time he needs to complete that digivolution, he is ultimately a ticking time bomb hanging over our heads. And because we cannot pinpoint his exact coordinates right now, we are forced into a passive position."
In the original timeline, Devimon had entrenched himself at the summit of Infinity Mountain. But ever since Mizuki arrived in this world, the butterfly effect had violently altered the script. Infinity Mountain was no longer the villain's guaranteed stronghold.
"Because we are stuck reacting to his moves, we must gather every possible advantage to prepare for the final clash," Mizuki explained.
"I understand, Mizu..." LadyDevimon murmured. Her jaw locked. She subconsciously ground her teeth together, a bitter wave of frustration washing over her.
She was still too weak. An Ultimate level?
An Ultimate level was completely insufficient against the threat looming over them!
Mega... That was it. She absolutely had to break through to the Mega level! Only by achieving that overwhelming power could she truly guarantee Mizuki's safety.
Guided by the faint, pulsing light of the Holy Sword in Mizuki's hand—Duramon, currently maintaining the form of a closed parasol—the duo descended through the thick layers of the forest canopy. They touched down silently, arriving at their destination.
An ancient ruin hidden deep within File Island.
"This is the exact coordinates the Holy Sword pointed us toward," Mizuki said. He glanced down at the parasol in his grip, feeling the subtle, rhythmic tremors vibrating through the handle. He exchanged a knowing look with LadyDevimon, and together, they stepped past the crumbling stone archway.
From the outside, the structure looked like nothing more than a forgotten pile of rubble overgrown with thick vines. But the moment Mizuki crossed the threshold into the interior corridors, he spotted fresh, violent scorch marks and deep gouges in the ancient masonry. Obvious signs of a recent, one-sided slaughter.
Combined with the glaring absence of Centarumon—the guardian who was supposed to be stationed here—the grim truth of the situation painted itself clearly across the walls.
"Mizu..." LadyDevimon whispered, her guard instantly rising as she scanned the shadows.
"Yes. Centarumon has likely already fallen victim to Devimon's poisoned hand," Mizuki replied, his voice flat and cold.
He remembered that in the original trajectory, Centarumon had been easily manipulated by a Black Gear. It would have been effortless for a powered-up Devimon to crush him and absorb his data. Originally, Mizuki had harbored a faint hope that this world's Centarumon might be a hidden powerhouse, much like Andromon.
The fresh crater in the wall proved otherwise.
The ruin had been thoroughly ransacked during the brief battle, leaving the ancient stone tablets and carved records shattered across the floor. If there was any silver lining to be found in this desolate place, it was that the Holy Sword was still vibrating, its tip pulling steadily toward the deepest chamber of the ruins.
"Devimon did not take whatever is hidden down here," Mizuki observed, stepping carefully over a pile of debris. "Or rather, he lacked the knowledge to recognize its value."
Following the sword's relentless guidance, Mizuki and LadyDevimon handled the winding, darkened corridors until they emerged into a massive, vaulted hall.
In the dead center of the empty chamber stood a towering statue. It was carved from a dark, unknown metal, shaped into the terrifying visage of a massive dragon's head. Upon closer inspection, it was clearly designed as a colossal, heavy shield.
"Mizu, is this the goal of our trip?" LadyDevimon asked, tilting her head as she circled the imposing structure. "But why can I not feel a single trace of power emanating from it?"
"The Holy Sword's guidance should not be wrong," Mizuki murmured, stepping closer to the dragon's snout. "The reason you cannot sense any energy is probably because this Digimon—which should have been a living shield—is currently reduced to a dead object."
He reached out. His fingertips brushed against the cold, metallic surface of the dragon's brow.
The instant his skin made contact, the world violently spun on its axis.
Gravity vanished. The stone walls dissolved into a suffocating, pitch-black void. Mizuki plunged headfirst into the darkness.
When Mizuki finally opened his eyes, the ancient ruins were gone.
The sterile, suffocating scent of bleach and rubbing alcohol filled his lungs. The rhythmic, agonizingly slow beep of a heart monitor echoed in his ears. He stared blankly at the familiar, water-stained ceiling tiles of a hospital room.
The starting point of everything. Or rather, the unbearable, agonizing past that had preceded his true beginning.
"An illusion...?" Mizuki whispered. His voice sounded paper-thin, raspy from disuse. He tried to move his fingers, feeling the heavy, sickening weakness anchoring his bones to the mattress. Everything around him felt terrifyingly real.
"Or was everything else just a dream?"
Those wild adventures. The wind in his hair. The warmth of his Digi-Soul. The fateful, life-changing encounter with Nyaromon.
Every single moment was carved so deeply into his soul. Yet now, this sterile room was quietly telling him that all that beauty, all that freedom, was nothing more than a dying boy's hallucination.
It was a uniquely cruel form of torture.
Mizuki slowly closed his eyes, letting the silence wash over him.
A moment later, the subtle shift of air currents told him he was no longer alone. Someone was standing right beside his bed.
He opened his eyes.
Standing over him was a flawless reflection. It was himself—but a better version. The boy standing there possessed a healthy flush in his cheeks, bright eyes, and a body completely untouched by the ravages of chronic illness.
"Are you going to give up now?" the healthy phantom asked, his voice smooth and condescending. "Are you going to give up that wonderful fantasy life, choose to accept reality, and return to this ruined, pathetic body?"
Mizuki stared at the phantom. He felt the familiar, agonizing ache in his lungs with every shallow breath. After a long stretch of silence, the frail, disease-ridden boy on the bed offered a gentle, almost pitying shake of his head.
"Give up?" Mizuki whispered. "No. I have never given up."
"Then why do you not stand up?" The better version of himself took a sudden, aggressive step forward, looming over the bed. "Why lie on this ridiculous sickbed like a weakling who has finally surrendered to reality?"
The phantom extended a hand, offering a way out. An escape.
Mizuki did not take it. Instead, he focused on regulating his shallow breathing, forcing his ruined lungs to draw in just enough air to steady his racing heart. When the agonizing spike of pain in his chest finally dulled, he spoke. His tone was incredibly gentle, entirely devoid of anger.
"I see. Is that your perspective?" Mizuki asked, a faint smile touching his pale lips. "In your opinion... is what I am doing right now considered accepting reality?"
The phantom fell silent, its outstretched hand hovering awkwardly in the air.
Mizuki suddenly let out a soft, genuine chuckle. "Sure enough. You are not me."
"I am you!" the phantom snapped, its perfect face twisting in sudden desperation.
"You are not." Mizuki shook his head again. Even though his physical form was currently a hollow shell ravaged by disease, there was not a single trace of resentment or despair in his eyes. There was no bitterness toward fate.
All he possessed was a pure, unyielding hope that yearned for the light, and a quiet, terrifying strength that had never once bowed its head to destiny.
"If you were truly me, you would already know," Mizuki said softly. "I have never been afraid of any of this."
He slowly pushed himself up, his trembling arms fighting against the crushing weight of his own frailty. "Perhaps in your eyes, this past is a nightmare—a life I cannot bear to look back upon. But for me? No matter how unbearable this past was, no matter how humble and fragile I was, struggling just to breathe like a trampled blade of grass... it is still a core part of who I am."
Mizuki swung his thin legs over the edge of the bed. "I will not run away from any of this. Nor will I ever abandon the boy I used to be."
He looked directly into the phantom's wavering eyes. "It can even be said that it is precisely because of the suffocating hardships of this past that the current me was forged. If I were to blindly choose to escape all of this simply for a momentary illusion of comfort, would that not be a shameful, unforgivable betrayal to the person I am right now?"
As Mizuki's words hung in the sterile air, the hospital walls began to warp. The IV drips, the monitors, the suffocating scent of bleach—it all dissolved into white smoke, blowing away into the void.
Only the two youths remained, standing face-to-face in an endless expanse of shallow water.
Mizuki, wearing his oversized hospital gown, his body utterly weak but his eyes burning with an inextinguishable light. And the exquisitely dressed, rosy-cheeked phantom, whose perfect facade was now cracking, revealing nothing but conflict and deep-seated timidity.
Looking at the figure that resembled a hollow reflection of his desires, Mizuki smiled carelessly. He took a step forward, his bare feet splashing softly against the water's surface.
The gravity felt strange, as if he were walking deep underwater.
Moving from one moon to another.
The instant Mizuki reached out and made physical contact with the phantom, the entire dimension shattered completely, exploding outward like a million shards of broken glass.
When Mizuki's consciousness slammed back into his physical body, the heavy, metallic scent of the ruins filled his nose.
The giant dragon head shield statue that had been looming over him just seconds ago was completely gone.
"Mizu!"
LadyDevimon's panicked voice pierced the silence. Before he could even blink, a pair of dark leather-clad arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a desperate, crushing embrace.
Mizuki stumbled slightly, returning the hug as he felt her trembling against his chest.
"Mizu, what happened to you just now? Why did you suddenly become completely unresponsive?" LadyDevimon demanded, her voice thick with terror. She pulled back just enough to frantically inspect his face. "You really, really scared me..."
"It is alright, LadyDevimon. I am alright," Mizuki soothed. He gently patted her back, his touch warm and grounding. He then motioned for her—who had dropped to a half-kneel in her panic—to stand back up.
"I just took a brief moment to reminisce about the past," he explained with a soft smile.
"Reminisce?" LadyDevimon blinked, looking at him with deep curiosity. She then shifted her gaze past his shoulder, her eyes widening in confusion.
The colossal dragon head shield statue was gone without a trace. In the exact spot where it had rested, a small, sturdy handbag now lay quietly on the stone floor.
"Mizu, what is this?" she asked, pointing at the strange object.
"This?" Mizuki followed her gaze, staring at the small bag. A deep sense of understanding washed over his features.
He let out a soft, knowing laugh. Under LadyDevimon's watchful gaze, he stepped forward and bent down, his fingers closing firmly around the handle.
"This," Mizuki said softly, lifting the bag into the faint light, "is my past."
He looked up, his eyes shining with an unbreakable resolve. "And at the same time, it is my future."
Just as he had declared in the void—he would continue to move forward, carrying the heavy, agonizing weight of his past with him every step of the way. He would not discard it. Instead, the pain of his history would be refined, transformed into the absolute power needed to protect everything he held dear.
Outside the crumbling stone walls of the ruin, the suffocating dark night had finally begun to recede.
Dawn was coming. The sky was about to break.
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