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Wizardmon had lived a solitary life since he departed from Witchenly. He had never learned what it was to love.
Nor had he learned what it was to hate.
He hated Myotismon with every byte of his digital soul. The pain the cruel vampire inflicted with his Crimson Lightning, great though it was, paled before the agony he felt seeing Gatomon lose herself, every scrap of her natural spirit and compassion being flayed from her by Myotismon's brutality. Sometimes he could see his rescuer looking out from behind the cold eyes of Myotismon's lieutenant, but then the whip would come down, and the spark was gone again. Her master hated the flickers of her true self -- He feared it.
Myotismon was right to fear it. If ever she could attain a fraction of her dark master's power, Gatomon's will -- the real Gatomon's will -- and strength of spirit would destroy him. Beneath his cultured and lordly persona, the Virus Digimon had the soul of a weak-willed, sordid bully. Nothing but raw power kept his underlings obedient to him, and nothing but raw power protected him from the consequences of his actions. But somehow, someday, someone would rise up to repay him for all the suffering he had inflicted upon his countless victims...
In Wizardmon's mind, it would be Gatomon. He had no idea how, but he was certain it would be her. She would go free someday. She would meet the person she'd sought, and Myotismon would be nothing but an ugly memory. For the sake of that future, he had to remain here, within Myotismon's shadow, and lend her his support. No matter what she forgot, what she did, what she became... He would stand behind her, paying any price to see the day that she would escape.
He just had to make it to that day.
After that... After that, his life would have served its purpose.
He would bear a thousand lashes, tell a thousand lies, live through a thousand nightmares. All of it would be worthwhile to fulfill a single purpose, for the sake of a single meaning -- to witness the day that Gatomon threw off her master's shackles for the final time, and at last, at last, would be truly free.