I stood as still as a statue, my hands raised with my palms facing outward in what I hoped was the universal sign for “Please don’t attack me, I am friendly and also very tired.” Beside me, Gammamon was doing his best to look small and harmless, tucking his tail between his legs and offering a wobbly, toothy grin.
“Okay,” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
“Just keep projecting peaceful vibes.
Don’t make any sudden movements.”
“I am projecting peace,” Gammamon muttered back, his smile looking more like a grimace.
“You’re the one who looks aggressive.
Stop flexing your arms, you look like you’re getting ready to punch something.”
“I’m not flexing, I’m tense!” I hissed.
“And close your mouth, you’re baring your fangs!
You look like you’re deciding which one of them to eat first!”
“This is my friendly smile!” Gammamon shot back indignantly.
“It’s not my fault I’m a carnivore!”
Our attempt to look like stoic, peaceful saviors was rapidly crumbling into our usual petty bickering.
But the tension in the clearing didn’t escalate.
Instead, it broke.
From behind the dark-furred mother ferret, a tiny head popped out.
It was a ferret pup, small enough to fit in my cupped hands.
It watched Gammamon and me arguing with wide, curious eyes.
Then, a distinct, high-pitched squeak, one that sounded unmistakably like a giggle, escaped its mouth.
Gammamon and I froze mid-argument, looking down.
The sheer absurdity of two exhausted fighters arguing over a smile in the middle of a dinosaur graveyard caught up to me, and a tired chuckle escaped my chest.
Gammamon snickered too.
Hearing us laugh, two more tiny ferret pups peeked out.
Emboldened, all three of them trotted out from behind their mother, approaching us with a mix of caution and absolute childlike fearlessness.
I held my breath, staying completely still as the three pups reached my boots.
They sniffed the leather, then sniffed Gammamon’s claws.
Satisfied that we weren’t a threat, the first one boldly dug its tiny claws into my pant leg and started scaling me like a tree.
“Whoa, hey,” I chuckled softly, reaching a hand out to catch it before it fell.
The pup happily scrambled up my arm and draped itself over my shoulder.
The other two immediately swarmed Gammamon, one climbing onto his head and pulling playfully on his blue scarf, making the Digimon burst into a fit of laughter.
Ten feet away, the mother ferret let out a panicked squeal and took a step forward to retrieve her babies from the dangerous strangers.
But the father ferret, the one who had held the shadow shield, raised a paw to stop her.
He watched his children playing on us, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.
Slowly, he lowered his guard entirely.
The father ferret approached me, his small dark eyes looking up into mine.
He started moving his front paws in a frantic, complex series of gestures, chattering and squeaking urgently.
“Uh,” I blinked, looking at Gammamon.
“Any idea what he’s saying?”
“I think he wants to play baseball?” Gammamon guessed, watching the ferret swing its arms.
“We are not playing charades in Zone One,” I sighed, rubbing my temples.
“I need a translator.”
Gammamon paused, the pup on his head chewing on his ear.
“Wait.
Victor.
Your clones…
they’re made from the animals of this island, right?
And you talk to them in your head?”
“Yeah, there’s a telepathic link with the clones.”
“So…
why don’t you summon one of them?
The clone could listen to the ferret, understand the animal language, and then translate it into your head and then you can translate it for me, or connect your telepathy through the Digivice link!”
I stared at Gammamon, my jaw slightly slack.
“Gammamon…
you absolute, stupid genius.”
“Hey!” Gammamon yelled indignantly, nearly dropping the ferret pup.
“That’s a contradiction!
If I’m a genius, you’re the stupid one!”
“Just accept the compliment,” I rolled my eyes.
I tapped the black disk.
In a puff of green mist, the Phase-Wolf materialized beside me.
Instantly, the mother ferret and the foal backed up, bristling with alarm at the sight of the apex predator.
I quickly knelt down, pointing to myself, then to the wolf, and then tapping the side of my head, trying to mime friend.
The father ferret watched the wolf cautiously, then seemed to understand my intent.
I channeled my Fa-Jin into the Digivice, bridging my mental connection with the jade clone, and pushed it outward toward Gammamon.
The Phase-Wolf lowered its head, listening intently to the father ferret’s rapid chittering.
A second later, the Wolf’s deep, resonant voice echoed in my and Gammamon’s minds.
<The blood from the Great Hunger will attract more terrors from the deep mist,> the Wolf translated, referring to the dead Deviljho.
<We must leave this place immediately.
You should follow us.>
“It worked!” I said, a massive grin breaking across my face.
I looked at the father ferret and nodded emphatically.
“Lead the way.”
The father turned on his heels and bolted toward a hidden ravine.
We didn’t hesitate.
I scooped up the two pups on my shoulders, Gammamon secured the one on his head, and we sprinted after the parents.
The small unicorn foal ran swiftly alongside the mother, her small hooves barely making a sound on the dirt.
As we ran, the pups on my shoulders kept up a constant stream of excited squeaks and chatters, which the Phase-Wolf dutifully translated directly into our heads.
<What’s your name, my name is Ron!> The Wolf relayed the voice of the pup on my left shoulder, perfectly capturing the child’s flat, matter-of-fact tone.
<That is Jon, and Don is on the white creature.
Our father is Zon, and our mother is Pon.
The one with the sparkly hair is our friend, Chichi.>
“Nice to meet you guys.
I’m Victor, and this is Gammamon,” I replied, speaking aloud so they could hear my tone, while the Wolf translated my intent back to them.
“So, why was that giant dinosaur trying to eat you?”
<Oh, the Great Hunger is just mean,> Ron’s translated voice explained easily.
<We were helping Chichi look for some medicine leaves for her mother.
Her mother is sick.>
<Yes,> Don chimed in from Gammamon’s head.
<Chichi’s mother, the Frost-Fire Sovereign, and the Great Hunger are the two bosses of this area.
They are the strongest, except for the Grand Sky-Swimmer who sleeps in the big water.
The Sovereign and the Hunger always fight, but the Great Hunger cheated.
He had one of his friends blow poison air on Chichi’s mother before their big fight.>
<He is a big cheater,> Jon agreed.
<The fight ended in a tie, but Chichi’s mom got really hurt.
So the Great Hunger wanted to eat Chichi to make her mom sad.>
<It is a good thing Father found us,> Ron sighed heavily.
<But the worst part hasn’t even happened yet.>
“What’s worse than almost getting eaten?” I asked, bewildered.
<Mother is going to be SO mad we crossed the big rocks,> the three pups’ intent was translated in perfect unison.
<We are not going to be allowed outside for many moons.>
I couldn’t help it.
I laughed out loud as we ran, the bizarre juxtaposition of their childish priorities against the brutal reality of Zone 1 easing the lingering adrenaline in my system.
We ran for another ten minutes until the petrified trees suddenly parted to reveal a massive cliff edge.
Below us lay the central lake of the island.
It was impossibly vast, the water a deep, crystal clear blue.
And there, floating a few feet above the center of the lake, was the Apex.
The Rainbow Dragon what the pups called the Grand Sky-Swimmer.
It was colossal, its snow-white body coiled in on itself like a sleeping serpent.
Its iridescent scales caught the sunlight, and its crystalline antlers cast a faint, shifting rainbow aura over the water.
It looked completely at peace, a sleeping god utterly unbothered by the violence of the island.
I stared at it in awe, a cold thrill running down my spine.
One day.
We followed the ferret family down a narrow, hidden path until we reached a concealed opening between two massive roots.
The burrow was surprisingly spacious inside, lined with soft moss and glowing lichen.
The kids hopped off our shoulders, immediately getting scolded by Pon in a rapid-fire series of squeaks that didn’t need telepathy to be understood as a maternal dressing-down.
Zon, the father, motioned for us to sit.
I dismissed the Phase-Wolf, but kept the telepathic link open through the Digivice so Gammamon and I could still receive the Wolf’s residual translations of Zon’s chittering.
<Thank you for protecting my family,> Zon began, settling on his haunches.
<My children gave you the simple version.
But it is true.
The Great Hunger poisoned the Frost-Fire Sovereign.
Both were severely wounded.
But the Great Hunger has a horrific ability.
If he consumes a creature, he temporarily gains its traits.
He went to the outer ring to hunt the Heavy Stone Ape, seeking its rapid healing to recover from his wounds and finish Chichi’s mother off.
He found the children by chance on his way back.>
“He ate the Gorilla for its healing factor,” I muttered, connecting the dots.
“That’s why the crater was empty.”
Zon looked at me, his dark eyes piercing.
<You possess strange powers.
You command the stone beasts, and your companion wields explosive light.
Who are you?
What is your purpose on this land?>
The question hung in the air.
For five months, I had asked the same question to myself many times.
I lied to Rear Admiral Hototogisu, I played the part of the desperate survivor because it was the only role I knew.
But looking at Zon, a father who had just put his life on the line against a monster ten times his size to protect his kids, the armor felt heavy and useless.
I looked at Gammamon.
He nodded gently.
“I’m nobody, Zon,” I said, my voice dropping the sarcastic edge.
I took a deep breath and told him the truth.
“Five months ago, I woke up in a dark cave on the outer cliffs of this island.
I didn’t know who I was, where I came from, or how I got here.
But I realized very quickly that in this world, if you don’t have a label, you are a target.
If they don’t understand you, they lock you in a cage.”
I looked down at my scarred hands.
“We aren’t here to conquer the island.
We’re just trying to survive and get strong enough so that when we finally leave this place, no one can ever take our freedom away.”
As the words left my mouth, something incredible happened.
The tightness in my chest, a heavy, suffocating knot of anxiety I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying for nearly half a year, unspooled.
Gammamon let out a long breath beside me, leaning against my arm.
We weren’t hiding anymore.
For the first time, we were just Victor and Gammamon.
A lull of silence fell over the burrow as the animals digested the information.
Chichi, the unicorn foal, stepped forward timidly, her mane flickering with a warm blue light.
She let out a soft whinny, which the Wolf translated: <What was the stone wolf?
It smelled like the wolves from the outer forest, but it felt hollow.>
“It’s my ability,” I explained gently.
“If I take a some blood from an animal, my weapons can forge a perfect copy of them.
It lets me use their strength.”
As I explained it, my mind began to race.
I looked at the Jade Wings resting nearby.
Up until now, every clone I had forged had cost me nearly everything.
I had to beat the beasts within an inch of their lives, pin them down, and take their blood by force.
During the forging process, my Fa-Jin was violently siphoned away, leaving me crippled and exhausted.
I had always assumed that was just the cost of the magic.
But what if it wasn’t?
What if the agonizing energy drain was actually friction?
I was forcing my kinetic energy to override the natural biological resistance and hostile Will of a creature that hated me.
It was like trying to force a river to flow backward.
But what if there was no resistance?
What if the valve was open?
What if the donor’s Will aligned with mine?
I turned to Zon, my heart beating faster.
“Zon.
The shadow shield you used against the dinosaur…
it was incredible.
If we’re going to survive out there, we need that kind of defense.
I want to try an experiment, and I want to ask you for a favor.”
Zon tilted his head, listening.
“I want to make a copy of you,” I said respectfully.
“But I don’t want to fight you for it.
I believe that if you give me a single drop of your blood willingly, the process will change.
It won’t be a hostile takeover.
If it fails, we lose nothing.
But if it works…
we will gain a powerful friend to travel with us.”
Zon stared at me for a long time.
He looked at his children, then at Chichi, and finally back to me.
<I will give you my blood,> Zon chittered, the Wolf translating his solemn tone.
<But on one condition.
You said you learned to heal yourselves to survive.
The Frost-Fire Sovereign is a dear friend to our family.
If you use your abilities to cure Chichi’s mother of the poison, I will give you whatever blood you need.>
I froze.
In my old life, in any video game, this was the standard quest format.
An exchange of services.
But looking at Zon, hearing the desperation beneath his composed demeanor, my gut twisted in rejection.
I shook my head slowly.
“No.
I won’t do that.”
Zon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
<No?>
“I’m not a merchant selling miracles, Zon,” I said, my voice rising with absolute, unwavering conviction.
I leaned forward, looking him dead in the eye.
“I won’t hold a life hostage just to get a power-up.
I’m not going to make a deal for your friend’s survival.
If there is a creature out there suffering, and I have the power to heal her, then I am going to do it.
Period.
I would have done it even if you hadn’t offered me anything.”
I pointed to the Jade Wings.
“I refuse to let my compassion become a transaction.
If you give me your blood, do it because you trust me.
Because you believe we are allies in a cruel world.
Not because you’re paying a toll.”
Zon stared at me, unblinking.
The burrow was completely silent.
Then, the corners of his small mouth twitched upward, his posture relaxing entirely.
<You are a very strange creature, Victor,> Zon replied, the Wolf’s translation carrying a deep warmth.
<There is no deal, then.
Just a group of creatures helping each other.>
He stepped forward.
<Present your blade.>
I brought the right Jade Wing dagger, extending it toward him, my hand trembling slightly from the weight of the moment.
Zon raised his small paw, wiping away a drop of fresh blood from his nose where he had strained himself holding the shield earlier.
He reached out and smeared the single drop of blood onto the cold green surface of the jade.
The moment the blood touched the stone, the Jade Wings ignited.
But it wasn’t the violent, erratic pulse of my previous forges.
It was a brilliant, pure, steady emerald radiance.
I braced my body, preparing for the agonizing vacuum to tear the Fa-Jin from my cells.
It never came.
Instead of a drain, it felt like a handshake.
My kinetic energy flowed from my core into the blade smoothly, effortlessly, operating at a level of efficiency I hadn’t even known was possible.
There was no friction.
No resistance.
It was a perfect, symbiotic transfer of Will.
The energy wrapped around the blood, accepting the gift, forging the bond in perfect harmony.
The green light peaked, illuminating the dark burrow with a warm glow, and as it faded, a crystal-clear, resonant CLICK echoed through my very soul.
The Night Ferret had just replaced the Hummingbird in my lineup.
Word Count: 2727
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