He was nothing If not powerful, already rippling with curves and hard lines that epitomized strength incarnate. Reflexively, Leomon stiffened his neck and tightened his muscles in a manner that brokered no fear. There was a power that resided here among the cobwebs, desire given form and reaching out with invisible tendrils that tugged and groped at him. Either it was deafening silence or howls of age as he traversed the rotting staircase that led further into the pitch-black abyss that beckoned him forward. There seemed to be no middle ground in this haunted place. Leomon winced as he brought the door fully forward, breathing a sigh of relief as the door silenced. The hinges of the door screamed as he pulled at the brass knob. Or for some fool to happen upon them unknowingly. Weapons in the dark begging for a new master. Devimon may have been slain but the remnants of his evil remained. The scent was stronger there, a metallic darkness that told Leomon it wasn’t over. His eyes scanned the sprawling staircases that led to the multitude of doors above, but he focused on the door directly in front of him that led into the basement. Clouds of dust puffed up around his feet, the stale air allowing it to linger in the air and fall slowly once more. The floorboards creaked with each heavy footstep he took. I would believe it is done, Leomon thought as he walked through the empty halls that had once been Devimon’s trap for the DigiDestined, but I must see for myself. Author's Note: If you're interested in getting a commissioned short story, please reach out.
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