The sword-wielding Tamer's pale silver eyebrows twitched as his entire form, remarkable for his ability to control every muscle in his body with grace and efficiency, was overcome with a weight of unknown origin as he watched Drum escape by the luck of a spider's golden thread in the form of Basil, whose eyes shimmered with a weird purple haze that signaled to the attentive Veemon in the background, whom also felt his body receiving this burden, that he was up to no good. He had just barely caught glimpse of the arbor Rookie conjuring a card with familiar markings on its back...
He had every mind to warn his human ally that Basil had access to card scanning technology, but Blue kept his lips pursed upon considering the possibility that he was already aware of the situation, and was now coming up with a procedure to turn this whole situation around. His scowl, once full of dismay for this sudden turn of events, eventually shifted into a reassured smile. Even when he's close to reaching fifty, the Red Mantle still fights like he's never aged a single day.
Just as the observant victory dragon suspected, the white-haired swordsman came to the same conclusion, which he kept note of with a flash of his eyes in Basil's direction. It was very noble of him to utilize the technology for Drum's safety, as processing the "Octogravity" card had amplified the downward magnetic pull of all combatants on the field by eight-fold, reducing the once-speedy and nimble Red Mantle into a costumed clown with two, exceptionally heavy paperweights.
Recognizing that he was at a disadvantage, the tanned human closed his eyes and pulled the Empty Perfection back into the confines of the stream of data that flowed within his body and spirit, returning them to the hill of infinite swords in the depths of his tortured and war-scarred mind, a phenomenon that realized itself when both the jet black blade and its pure white sister vanished in a shower of glittering white binary code.
Even though the green Rookie had upped the gravity by eight times its original pressure, this was nothing to the Red Mantle; though his muscles buckled and his bones creaked with every newton of force being forced onto his back and shoulders, images of himself –– his body, crouched on a hill, assailed by the presence of numerous weapons from those who felt it necessary to stand against his ideal of a world without darkness or conflict –– poured through his surface thoughts like a projector stuck on repeat.
These were the tortured memories of a man who sacrificed his chance to live a normal life in the human world, his own place of origin, for the sake of preserving a great and beautiful world, one full of intelligent and wonderful creatures who had the potential to accomplish things that could benefit both humans and Digimon.
But mankind was foolish and squandered their potential. They were given the power to change the world by saving it, protecting it, and what do they do? They throw it away, like yesterday's trash. It is a tragedy that happens on a massive scale, and it penetrates the Tamer's heart as though it attempts to consume his weary heart daily, to claim it for the personal touch of Death's cold, skeletal hand.
They were given a planet blessed with abundance, but humanity's greed and hollow thirst for excess depleted its resources, leaving it withered and rife with famine and pestilence. Systems once founded on principles of fairness and justice were soon bought out by corporate superpowers and manipulated into becoming sensationalist headliners, all so that it could distract us –– the common people –– from the truth at hand:
that we are slaves to the Seven.
They thrive on our weaknesses, prey on our fears like vultures and snakes who slither their way into our lives, whispering sweet nothings of power and status as though they had concrete substance or value and meaning. Drum, and perhaps even Basil, were nothing more than a few of the more neutral-minded individuals who were fortunate enough, whether they were conscious of it or otherwise, to have escaped their hawkish radars of influence.
Suddenly, darkness fell over his thoughts. The Mantle's arm, as if pulled by the string of a puppet master's control panel, reached for the Digivice at his belt, his conscious thoughts fully aware that his body was slowly being overwhelmed by the gravity of Basil's scanned card. But from his waist came one of his own, one that all three of these Digimon would easily recognize –– and one that he fully intended to teach a silent lesson to these two, woefully unaware Digimon.
As Drum roared out in defiance and, summoning a well of extra strength against the warped gravity, launched another fireball at the warrior, he closed his eyes, and focused on his mental trigger: a single, white lotus –- the sacred symbol of purity and innocence –– amid the inescapable blackness of his past and the collective sins of both worlds threatening to consume it in the blink of an eye.
'His body is made from infinite swords...'The petals scatter, and his eyelids open.
"Digi... Modify..." the Red Mantle spoke, and in a decisive burst of upper body strength, pulled the card in his hands through the electronic reader as a shower of green sparks flew from the gold-accented D-Power. Within his active thoughts now forms a mental flame, representative of his fighting spirit, once again reignited upon connecting with his desire to save these two Digimon from the idea that he and his Veemon partner Blue were capable of deserving anything that they were able to offer them: their position in life and the consequences for failing to uphold this magnanimous task is far more dire than fulfilling their personal desire for emotional satisfaction.
"Octo... Gravity... Activate...!"The atmosphere rumbled again, and the fireball that seemingly defied the laws of physics itself was instantly crushed under the weight of the environment yet again, as an even greater amount of gravitational pressure was now being exerted over all four of the jungle clearing's occupants. A second "Octogravity" card was run through the surrounding pitch, increasing the Newtonian force by sixteen-fold.
Blue himself, being in Rookie form, couldn't control his knees from giving out under the unbearable strain from the Tamer's seemingly unhinged actions. What was he thinking, making it that much harder to stand like this!? It almost felt like his bones would turn to dust if he tried to resist this unbearable weight over his body; even his cloak felt like it weighed thousands of pounds! But as he strained his neck muscles to look at the human, his eyelids, against all of that force, lifted open with pure awe.
There he was, standing tall and proud, even as the weight of the world itself fell over his shoulders like he was Atlas personified; one could clearly tell from the way he strained to keep himself rigid like that was doing a number on his stamina. But his face told a different story altogether, even as the delicate muscles were contorted against his will into a dour and grim scowl. But most impressive of all was the blistering surge of spiritual fire burning behind those eyes, dull and grey from being exposed to history's countless collection of tragedies both small and great.
They burned with the conviction of a man who has embraced his ideals against these odds, knowing full well that to do so was to take up a one-man crusade against a world that had all but completely fallen influence to the forces of evil, whom chose to follow petty desires or perverted ambitions that were freely given to them without effort in favor of honestly using their talents for the greater benefit of all living things. Even if he was cursed to bear the sins of both planets, he did so for the same reason one chooses to save even a single man's life.
Because it was the right thing to do.
But jogging through the warrior's mind was another thought altogether: he had noticed the ethereal white wisps of data flowing from Drum's body, and came to the realization that he was slowly tapping into his inner might, that his DigiCore showed signs of spontaneous adaptive change. He was on the threshold? Perhaps this may be a way to have his cake and eat it as well, he surmised as his body held itself stiff under the nearly-crippling weight of both "Octogravity" cards, his right hand close to his waist in preparation for another card swipe in case things got too sticky.
No normal human could do such things, and all of these Digimon were well aware of it by now, whereas Blue himself had been privy to this overwhelmingly dramatic detail well before the
dos compadres over there ever came to that conclusion. There was a reason the Red Mantle chose to hide his true name behind that very alias: it was a way to project to those who encountered him that he was something that transcended his corporeal body, something that defied explanation altogether. The Red Mantle was something that was no longer human.
The Red Mantle was a hero.
» Slashed: GRAVIMON (Octogravity)
–Manipulates the gravity by eight-fold for two turns. Limited range.
1/7 cards used.
Basil ,
Drum 
