When they were little, there was a time Kola would often visit Michael's house just to watch television together. On one of those afternoons, something unexpected appeared on screen—something that stole Kola's breath for a moment.
It wasn't Digimon.
It was a foreign film, something about four children who stumbled into a strange world through the back of a wardrobe, only to find themselves standing in a land covered in glittering white. A frozen forest, blanketed in cold beauty.
Kola had never seen anything like it.
"What's that white, sparkling stuff?" Kola asked back then, pointing at the TV with wide eyes.
Michael didn't even look away from the screen. "It's called snow," he answered quickly, eager to fast-forward to the next Digimon episode.
That was it.
Just a glimpse.
But that single moment burned itself into Kola's memory.
The white land, the trees covered in frost, the sky pale and cold—he had no words for it, but it was beautiful. Magical. It stirred something in him.
Ever since that day, he'd quietly dreamed of one thing:
To see snow with his own eyes.
And now…
Here he was.
Kola stood, his breath rising in mist, at the edge of a world long lost. A place Omegamon had simply called, "a forgotten land."
The ground stretched far into the distance, layered in thick snow that seemed untouched for centuries. Every tree he could see—twisted and leafless—was draped in white, like the world itself had fallen asleep in winter. Great mountains loomed in the background, their jagged ridges piercing the clouds like frozen thorns.
But the view was blurred.
A heavy wind whipped past them, carrying with it shards of icy snow—white, stinging, and wild. A snowstorm. Or close enough to one.
Kola narrowed his eyes and pulled his hood tighter.
He turned to Omegamon. "So… where are we?"
Omegamon didn't answer right away.
Instead, he turned to the boy, and with a small flick of his hand, summoned something shimmering and red. A thick, flowing coat—almost like his own white and blue cape, but tailored for a human size.
"Wear this. You'll freeze without it."
Kola hesitated for a second, but then took it. It was heavier than it looked and radiated a strange, gentle warmth. As he slipped it on, the wind felt less cruel against his skin.
Omegamon finally spoke, eyes locked on the swirling white ahead.
"I don't know exactly where we are. But I scanned the whole area. The entire region stretches about the size of your city. Kendari."
Kola blinked. "Wait… scanned? Like… what does that even mean?"
Omegamon gave the briefest hint of a smile. "It's one of my core systems. I can build a real-time mental map of the terrain, topography, energy signatures, and material presence… as long as I'm connected to the network inside my own memory. It's all stored up here."
He tapped his head with the hilt of his sword.
Kola stared at him, mouth slightly open. "That's… kinda insane."
"Somewhat," Omegamon replied flatly. "But useful."
Kola's fingers played with the edge of the red coat. The fabric shimmered faintly in the cold air. "So, where are we heading now?"
Without a word, Omegamon raised his sword and pointed toward the mountains in the distance.
"Beyond those ridges," he said. "There's something there. It looks like a structure—maybe ruins, maybe a castle. I picked up traces of metal. Precious metal. A lot of it."
Kola's eyes widened slightly. "Gold? Treasure?"
"Among other things," Omegamon said, voice low. "But… that's not all."
Kola looked up at him, brow furrowed.
Omegamon's gaze narrowed. "I detected no signs of life. But I did detect three anomalies. Moving. Active."
"Monsters?"
"I don't know," Omegamon said. "But they're not friendly. I can feel it."
Kola clenched his hands inside his coat.
Three of them.
The closer they moved toward the towering mountain, the more defined the structure ahead became. There—at the base of the cliff face—something jutted out from the frozen stone.
A tunnel.
Or rather… an entrance. Massive. Wide enough to swallow a truck whole. And tall enough that even Omegamon, who stood nearly as high as a three-story building—no, a building with three floors, just like Kola's old kost—could enter without lowering his head.
They stopped at its mouth.
The shadows inside were thick, deeper than night, as if they'd stepped into the throat of the world. The wind howled behind them like a warning, but the darkness ahead felt even colder.
Omegamon turned his head slightly to look at the boy sitting on his shoulder.
Kola met his gaze.
For a moment, nothing was said.
Kola wasn't thinking about danger.
Not about monsters.
Not even about gold.
He saw his mother's face. Pale. Weak. Lying on the mattress back home, blankets tucked around her thin shoulders. No machines. No hospital bed. They couldn't afford that. Only the sound of her breath and the soft ticking of a clock by the wall.
His hands clenched the red mantle tighter.
"…Let's keep going," he finally said, voice low but firm.
Omegamon gave a simple nod, and stepped into the dark.
The snowstorm faded behind them. Their world now was the sound of boots and metal echoing against stone. The deeper they went, the heavier the silence grew.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, Omegamon summoned something: a floating orb of light—white-blue, flickering with digital static—that hovered beside them like a silent companion, casting light over the frozen walls.
It wasn't just a cave anymore.
Slowly, almost unnaturally, the tunnel began to change. The floor beneath them became smoother. Etched. Like it had been carved by tools, not time. The walls—once raw rock—were now shaped stone, with ancient patterns carved deep into the surface.
That's when they noticed the murals.
Not paintings, not symbols—murals that wrapped around the tunnel walls like an ancient, crumbling storybook.
Stone reliefs with careful, detailed engravings, highlighted by flecks of gold and blue crystals embedded in the cracks.
Kola leaned closer. "These are… stories?"
Omegamon's footsteps slowed. "Yes. History. Or what's left of it."
As they walked, the murals unfurled like scenes in a play:
A grand kingdom rose from the mountains. Tall spires. Bannered towers. Knights in armor riding silver beasts.
But then—chaos.
A tide of monstrous figures surged across the walls, black-fanged and twisted, devouring cities and skies alike.
The kingdom crumbled. Soldiers fell. The king, eyes hollow, knelt alone in despair.
Then, the scene shifted again.
A child.
A shepherd boy in a tattered cloak, standing in a field of sheep under a crescent moon. Beside him, half-buried in the earth, were three great beasts—winged, serpentine, ancient. Dragons, or something like them. Their forms looked wild, coiled with fur and bone, unlike anything Kola had ever seen.
The boy smiled. The dragons opened their eyes.
A scene followed where the boy and the dragons flew over the battlefield—raging through the enemy ranks like divine retribution.
The monsters fell. The dark king was slain.
Peace returned.
But then…
Betrayal.
The three dragons, wounded and tired, descended into their resting place beneath the shepherd's fields.
The boy returned home.
The king, now afraid of the child's power, struck first.
He razed the boy's village. Burned the fields. Slaughtered his family. Left nothing but ash.
When the dragons awoke and found only ruins…
Their rage ignited the sky.
The final murals showed it clearly:
The dragons shattered the kingdom. Fire. Ice. Lightning.
The royal palace collapsed. Screams filled the air.
Nothing was left but scorched earth.
Kola said nothing for a long time.
Then finally, "This whole world… it's made from the memory of something terrible."
Omegamon's voice echoed low. "Not memory. Regret."
"Do you think this story's real?"
"I think…" Omegamon turned his head slightly. "It's real enough to be dangerous."
Kola looked back at the last mural—one where the three dragons curled around a crater where a single small figure once stood, now gone.
"Maybe," he said. "Maybe they're still here."
Suddenly, a sharp vibration rippled through the air.
A flicker in the floating light.
Omegamon raised his head. "We're not alone."
The walls rumbled.
From deeper within the ruins, something moved—claws against stone. Heavy. Crawling. Hungry.
Omegamon summoned his sword. The glowing cross-shaped blade hissed to life in the dim corridor.
He shifted his stance.
"…Don't let go of your grip."
The further they went in, the more fractured the floor and walls became.
Chunks of broken stone. Cracks like spiderwebs. The pristine halls of the ruins were falling apart—forgotten by time, perhaps never meant to be entered again.
Then came the sounds.
Low. Distant. Rhythmic.
Like breathing. But not from lungs.
More like… engines. Thunder rolling inside a mountain.
Kola's grip on Omegamon's mantle tightened. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, matching the strange rumble from the darkness.
They pushed forward. The tunnel widened again, into something vast and hollow.
Before they entered, Omegamon raised one armored hand and closed his fingers. The floating light orb flickered… and vanished.
Darkness swallowed them.
Kola's heart skipped.
Then, Omegamon's voice rumbled softly through the silence.
> "Shift higher, onto my back. I need both hands… And whatever happens, do not let go."
Kola scrambled carefully, climbing up toward the armored ridge of Omegamon's shoulder until he was nestled against the knight's back. His fingers hooked into the cape fabric behind Omegamon's neck.
Omegamon's foot stepped forward into the massive chamber ahead.
And in that instant—flames erupted.
Torches, dozens of them, lining the curved walls, burst into life with a chorus of hissing fire. They weren't like modern lights. These were primal. Magical. And they didn't flicker gently—they burned with purpose, like sentinels reawakening after centuries.
Kola squinted against the sudden brightness.
Then he saw them.
Three titans.
They stood across the chamber, emerging from the shadows like statues from a dream.
And then, they moved.
They were dragons—but not of fairytale beauty.
They were majestic, yes, but worn, their scales cracked and dull, their wings like cloaks of smoke and metal. Each was a different color—one deep obsidian, another ashen white, the last rusted crimson. Their eyes glowed with forgotten wrath.
They were monsters. And yet… they felt holy.
The beasts of the shepherd's legend.
For a heartbeat, the three titans stood still—studying them. Kola felt like a child again, but not in a good way. He felt small. Breakable.
Then—
BOOM!
The black dragon vanished in a blur of movement.
Kola gasped, almost thrown off balance. The air cracked with force as the creature charged with impossible speed, claws extended toward them.
Omegamon's sword was already swinging.
A burst of golden light collided with black scale and sent shockwaves through the entire chamber. The floor cracked beneath them. Wind howled through the impact.
Kola nearly screamed. The pressure alone was enough to make his teeth rattle. He gripped Omegamon tighter, the cape flapping violently around him.
The fight began.
The black dragon wheeled around, slamming its tail against the wall and launching forward again. But Omegamon was faster this time. His cannon arm erupted with a concentrated blast of light—like a beam of data—that collided with the beast mid-flight.
It screeched. The sound tore through the air like metal splitting.
The crimson dragon moved next, its wings unfurling with a clang like rusted steel. It let out a guttural roar and launched a barrage of red-hot fire from its mouth—not flames, but exploding plasma, lighting the entire dome in violent hues.
Omegamon leapt.
Kola screamed.
The whole world twisted upside down.
It was like flying. No—like falling through fire.
Omegamon twisted in mid-air, his sword colliding with the plasma in a massive burst that sent sparks raining down.
Kola could hardly see. Could hardly breathe.
All he could do was hold on.
Every attack from the dragons was like a disaster. The white one opened its mouth and let out a howl that froze the floor in an instant, nearly catching Omegamon's foot. Ice erupted like claws from beneath them.
The knight skidded backward, then launched forward—sliding over the frozen stone, using it as momentum.
The sword met the white dragon's neck.
Clash.
Clash.
Clash.
Each blow echoed like a church bell being struck by lightning.
Kola looked around. The world was chaos. Fire danced on the walls. Cracks opened in the ceiling. The chamber groaned like it would collapse any moment.
He saw Omegamon wounded once—just a spark, a dent in his side—but the knight pressed on.
"Kola," he growled mid-swing, "Close your eyes if you must!"
Kola didn't. He couldn't.
He needed to see it.
To witness this.
To understand just how far he'd come from the classroom windows and quiet nights by his sick mother's side.
This was real.
Life and death.
He was part of it now.
And still… Omegamon rose above it all. A whirlwind of blade and cannon, light and will.
One by one, the dragons faltered.
The white one crashed into the wall and collapsed.
The black one tried to rise again, but a second beam from Omegamon's cannon pinned it down in light.
The crimson one let out a defiant screech—but it, too, was met with a final, thunderous strike that shattered the ground around it.
Silence.
The chamber dimmed. Smoke drifted. Rubble settled.
The three dragons lay still—not dead, perhaps, but beaten. Their bodies shimmered faintly, then dissolved into light and faded into the stones from which they had emerged.
Kola's whole body trembled.
The battle had lasted only minutes.
It felt like an eternity.
Omegamon stood tall once more. He slowly lowered his sword, breath steaming in the chill air.
Then, from beyond the chamber, something moved.
A massive gate, half-buried in ice and shadow, rumbled to life. Gears turned. Lights flickered. And with a final exhale of ancient air, the doors opened.
Revealing what lay beyond.
Kola didn't speak.
He could only stare.