Pokémon Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

[Spiteful Murkrow]

Heya, it's been... uh... a while since I last reviewed something from this fic, but you did pop up on my reading list for Review Blitz by virtue of taking the time to check a story of mine out and mentioned that a review of HoC was your preference, so let's just blow the dust off a bit and dive right into…

Chapter 18

Spoiler: Line-by-Line

Shortly after Klent revealed his cause of death, Owen had left the table, saying that he wanted to think. Nobody stopped him, though they did watch to see where he went. Zena, however, started to slither after him.

“Zena, wait—” Star said.

Zena spun her head back and gave a glare to the Mew so intense that her pink, misty form fizzled halfway out of existence.

This isn't going to be the last time that Zena does to Star in this story, huh? ^^;

Zena resumed her pursuit. “Owen,” she called gently.
The Charmander didn’t stop. He was going straight for his home, to his room. The group collectively sighed in relief, but Zena pressed on. He needed company. Even if he didn’t remember it, he gave her company in her time of need. It was high time she returned the favor.

Huh. I just realized, but had there ever been a scene from Zena's perspective in the past? Since now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I can recall one up until now.

“Owen,” Zena said again. “Please, look at me.”

“No,” Owen said. “I need to think.”

“Owen,” Zena repeated. “May… may I follow you to your room?”

Owen didn’t object, so Zena took that as an affirmative. She knew it wasn’t the case.

Oh, so basically it's a:

sort of reply, huh?

The Charmander went to his room and puffed a small plume of fire at the central fire pit, immediately setting it alight. He dug through his bag next, rummaging for something to calm his nerves. Zena, now closer, noticed that Owen was still trembling. He could barely hold his bag open.

So... Stardust-?

Owen: "I'm literally a child in this setting (probably, maybe), okay?! I don't just keep recreational substances in my bags!"

Zena couldn’t find her words. He was only a few feet away, and yet they were a world apart.

“Did you know?” Owen said, not turning his head away from the contents of his bag.

Voice missing, Zena could only tense her jaw.

Owen: "Zena, you're not saying 'no' right now!"

“Did you know I killed him? Did Star tell you?” Owen kept his gaze fixed on the bag.

The Water Guardian was still unable to speak.

I'm going to guess that it was door number 2 that did the trick.

Owen: "Oh my gods, just how much do you all know about me that I don't?! Why won't you just tell me?!"

“Does everyone here know what’s wrong with me? And they just aren’t telling me?”

At this rate, basically, yes. ^^;

It ate away at Zena. When Owen didn’t say anything further, the silence was unbearable. She had to break it. “I—” Zena choked. “I’m sorry, Owen.”

Thick silence. The fire crackled a few times in the pit.

“Right.” Owen pulled out something from the bag and bit into it. In a blink, he vanished. All that remained of him, for a split-second, were the last few embers of his flame.

Oh, hello Warp Seed. Or at least I think that was a Warp Seed.

“Owen has vanished,” Valle announced to the others, just outside in the square.

“WHAT?!”

Gahi, the fastest, rushed to the home—followed by Willow, the second fastest. “Zena! What happened?!” Gahi said, but then saw Owen’s bag half-open in his room.

“…Warp Seed.”

Yeah, I knew it. Though if the second line is meant to be Zena's it probably makes sense to split off from the rest of the paragraph.

Zena turned around. The mutterings and discussion among the others were blurry murmurs to her. She couldn’t get that image out of her head. The moment before he left, Owen had looked at her. They made eye contact for just a second. Owen’s eyes had never looked so empty and lightless.

Okay, not that there isn't value in not repeating description twice in a chapter, but I kinda wonder if this particular detail would've had more impact coming out in the moment right before Owen blips out instead of in an after the fact fashion like this. Since Owen actually wasn't mentioned making eye contact at all in the last scene.

“V-Valle! Uh—d-d’you know where he went?” Demitri asked.

“I am searching for him now. The Warp Seed must have brought him somewhere within these caverns.” The motionless Rock Shiftry then went silent. “I have found him. He is deeper inside of the caves. He is heading toward the lava flow.”

Wait, wasn't it mentioned that Owen would go swimming in those things a few chapters ago? Is this meant to be stress relief, or...?

“Wh-why?!” Willow said. “He’ll burn up!”

“Doubtful,” ADAM said. “Owen’s species is capable of surviving in the lava. It is their habitat. It is very likely that he is going there to cool his system. The irony is not lost on me.”

I'll take that as confirmation of being stress relief.

The Porygon-Z buzzed to fill the worried silence.

“Additionally,” he continued, “it is likely a place where we cannot approach as easily. He wants to think in an isolated environment.”

Ahh, so he did have an ulterior motive there. Though you'd think that Amia could just send Alex or some other fire spirit to go after him.

“At least he’s not running off somewhere stupid again,” Star said. “That’s a start. And, to be honest, Klent, I don’t blame him this time!”

I mean, not that it wasn't strongly implied that Owen more or less has a Xenogears-esque "Id" in the last five-ish chapters, but I already know that you aren't the one who should be pointing fingers here, Star.

“If I vanish,” Klent said, “it means Owen’s power is waning. You can use me as an… indicator, if you like.” He rubbed his pom-poms together. “Was I too harsh? He may have… been the one to kill me, but…”

“I still don’t believe that,” Gahi said. “What d’you mean, he killed yeh?”

“It’s just as I said,” replied Klent. “Owen is responsible for my death. His flames are what snuffed out mine.”

Star: "Klent, seriously, haven't you done enough with this for one day? Let's just focus on getting Owen back right now."

Gahi clicked his jaws irritably. “How long were yeh waiting ter break that line out?” he said. “As… as just a Charmander? C’mon, don’t kid us like that.”

“He was not a Charmander,” Klent said. “He was… some sort of Charizard. A very powerful one… very…” He shivered. “It is not a memory I like to revisit. I was not the only one to die. My daughter was also killed. It still affects her, as any death would. She still doesn’t want to see Owen. I… don’t blame her.”

Klent wasn't supposed to say that one out loud, was he? ^^;

“But… he’s a Charmander,” Demitri said. “He never evolved! He…! He…!”

“Oh boy,” Star mumbled, forming a strange, white light in her paws again.

Oh, so that's what it looks like every time Star pulls a:

on someone

Zena glared, but did nothing. Demitri was clutching at his head, wobbling where he stood. The other two weren’t doing any better. Star fired—the white light enveloped them dimly, and the three collapsed, asleep before their panic could fully set in.

Yeah, I knew it. Though at this rate, Star really should just have Nevren make a Neuralyzer to save effort every time they need to do this.

“So much for that,” Star said, followed by a sigh. “Don’t worry, guys. When they wake up, I think they’ll just assume they got tuckered out after their meal. Just play along like before, okay? They’ll believe you if you fill in the blanks. Let their own heads trick them on the rest. Zena, can you carry them to their beds again?”

Do I want to know how many layers upon layers of memory wipes Star and the others working with her have signed off on? Since I'm not convinced at all that this is a thing reserved exclusively for Team Alloy.

Zena stared at the three helpless creatures. They would never know who they were, what they became. They’d live, forever, in ignorance of that, while everyone else acted as if they were totally normal. Lie after lie after lie. Until what?

Until the plot makes the status quo untenable and you have to try something different, of course.

Klent looked at his pom-poms. “Oh. I’m fading,” he said. “but—Owen feels just fine. Valle?”

“Owen is walking.”

Huh. I wonder if that means conjuring spirits requires focusing or else if plain physical exertion is enough to loosen one's hold on any spirits one has out and about in the normal world.

“I think he’s too far away from me,” Klent said. “I won’t be able to…” He faded, returning to Owen’s core as a blue ember.

Or it could be that. That works, too.

Star sighed. “Zena?” she said. “C’mon, none of us are good at carrying things. ADAM’s too smooth, Willow’s smaller than Anam’s toe, and Valle’s Valle. Can you help out?”

Zena wasn’t sure what came over her. There was a strange heat on the sides of her head, combined with an accelerating heart rate. Like she was preparing for a fight. She stared at Star. The Milotic’s words came without a filter. “Why should we listen to anything you say?”

Just filing that one away for later, since that definitely doesn't sound normal for a Milotic, especially one with an increased affinity for water.

Also, bold of you to assume that you should be listening to Star right now, Zena.

Star flinched. “H-huh? What do you mean?”

“All of this,” Zena said, staring at her. “Why are we keeping the truth hidden away from them? What they are. They’re the very same things being sent to kill the other Guardians. And now, Owen knows it. H-he forgot everything. He forgot me. Why can’t he remember? Why should I follow your word, Star?!”

Oh, so those two have a history with each other beyond their meeting earlier in the story, I can already tell. I suppose that would explain a thing or two about how Owen took to Zena so naturally.

Star floated stiffly, tiny, smoky paws clenched. “Because I’m the one keeping you all alive,” she said. “If I didn’t organize to get you guys, you’d all be dead. Your Orbs would be with Eon, and he’d be halfway to ruling the world by now. Zena, you have to trust—”

Well then. Like I'm sure that this version of events is about as trustworthy as if it came form Kyubey in PMMM, but I suppose that at least on a technical level there's room for it to not be wrong?

Since I'm getting a distinct vibe of 'confession by projection' right now, especially knowing that the Orb hunt portion of the plot winds down fairly early on in the story's run.

“I will never trust you,” Zena hissed, slithering until she was mere inches away from Star’s ill-defined face. “Your sins will never wash away, Creator. You did this. You made the Hunters. You kept the Guardians sealed away. And you,” she used one of her ribbons to push at the Mew’s chest, “are the reason for all of this.” With one firm press, she knocked Star back a few feet.

Oh, so Zena's going full

at the moment. But... yeah, this feels like a good argument to try and find ways to cut Star out of the equation sooner rather than later. Since literally everything about her has screamed dodgy and untrustworthy almost as soon as she first appeared in the story.

Willow fidgeted. “S-stop fighting,” she said quietly. “This isn’t fun…”

Nobody listened. Star floated where she had been pushed, staring at Zena. She looked around at the others for support. ADAM and Valle were indifferent. Willow skittered toward Zena, hiding near her coils. Team Alloy was either gone or unconscious. She had nobody. And Zena, realizing this, gave the Mew a twisted, sick grin. If Star was going to kill her then, she could at least feel satisfied that she did it knowing she was right.

Zena: "Gee, thanks for the support, you guys."

Valle: "Don't mention it."
Willow: "Yeah, we like staying alive." ^^;

But then, the Mew spoke. “You don’t… you think I don’t know that?” Her voice trembled. “I know. I kn-know I ruined everything. I know it’s all my fault. I just… I j-just can’t… do anything on my own. I need you guys to… fix my mistake. Because I can’t.”

I can already tell that Star's definition of 'fix my mistake' is very different from what everyone else would understand it to be. Since I could see her reaction just five seconds ago.

This caught her off guard. But she wasn’t going to let up. “And why is that, O Creator?” Zena asked. “You seem to do well enough with modifying my memories to your wishes, let alone Owen’s or the rest of Team Alloy. Why don’t you just do that now, hm? Wipe it all away. Go on. What’s stopping you?” Zena slithered closer, never taking her eyes off of Star, even when the deity looked away.

Whelp, there's our first hard confirmation that it's not just Team Alloy that gets memory edited, even if I kinda figured things would go there.

Also, the TL/DR answer for this is already going to be some version of "because Star needs you, for now", I can already tell.

She finally spoke in a voice so tiny, even Zena struggled to hear it. “I can’t.”

She knew it. Despite this going exactly as she had expected, the Milotic’s sneer faltered. “And why is that?”

“I only wiped those memories away in the spirit world. When you meditated and sank into your Water Realm,” she said. “And even then… it was because I was ready for it. You trusted me. Your mind was open enough for me to… if you reacted badly…” Star shook her head. “I can’t do that anymore. You’ll never let me inside. And… and that’s a good thing. I never should have in the first place. I’m sorry, Zena. I’m… sorry.”

No. Stay strong. She won’t influence her with tears. That was how it worked before.

“That isn’t good enough,” Zena hissed. “Sorry won’t make up for my centuries away. For the life I could have lived, simple and happy with petty worries. Sorry,” her voice cracked, “won’t make up for the fact that I’m alone again!” Her echo bounced off of the cavern walls. ADAM buzzed anxiously. Willow nuzzled against Zena, sending a mild, irritable shock through her scales.

This feels like a moment where it might make sense to separate Zena's inner thoughts from her spoken rant here. Though yeah, just saying, this Mew is basically Airy from Bravely Default with a lot more gall. Since imagine knowing that someone is onto you about being manipulative and having ulterior motives and still going back to your same old playbook.

“You aren’t alone,” Willow said. “I’m here. And I’m your friend!”

“You have heightened user permissions,” ADAM stated to Zena.

“I tolerate your movement,” Valle said.

So, does that mean that Zena would be allowed to futz around with ADAM's inner binaries, or is that still off-limits for her?

Zena puffed a few times through her nose. Her heart was racing and she didn’t know why. She didn’t expect to get this far. She was ready to throw everything away just to get one jab at Star before leaving to the aura sea. She was ready to be made an example of, to experience a Creator’s wrath, just to prove a point. In hindsight, it was completely illogical. But she still did it. In some stupor, she finally laid her heart bare for the others to see its pain, and for Star to finally end it.

Oh, so that's the afterlife... or I suppose the afterlife to the afterlife given the existence of those spirit realms.

But none of that happened. Instead, the pink mist floated there, staring at the four Guardians. She was too ill-defined to see an expression on her, but her voice was clear.

“I’ll fix everything. I—I just need help. I’m helping as much as I can. I’m working as fast as I—and—and I’ll make Owen better,” Star said. “That’s—that’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time, Zena. I’ll have him remember everything. I—I just need time, Zena. He’s not ready! You saw how he reacted! If I gave it all to him now, he’d—he’d totally lose it. You believe me on that, at least, right?!”

Lol. Lmao.

Zena: "No, but I'm getting the distinct impression that I don't really have a choice right now." >_>;

Zena’s body tensed, looking for a fault in the logic. Star wasn’t going to deceive her again. But… she had a point. Owen’s aura was blazing before Star had blocked his memories.

You sure about that one, Zena? Though just filing that one away about Owen's aura being 'blazing' whenever he has his freakouts.

“Owen,” Zena repeated. “You can easily modify his memories, even outside of the spirit world. Yet, you can’t for us?”

Star shook her head. “I’m not modifying them. I’m sealing them. His brain makes up for what’s missing.”

That actually makes me wonder if Owen's ever attempted to keep a journal in the past, or else if that's just something on the checklist that the gang does a sweep for every time he or another character gets their memories edited.

“That does not sound like best-practice,” ADAM said.

Understatement of the millennium there.

“Yet, you still can’t do that to us. I doubt Owen and the others trusted you enough to give you free access to their minds,” Zena said. “Does that mean you’re lying? That you’re—"

“They were designed that way,” Star blurted. “They…” She looked down. “That’s how their minds are supposed to be. They have an intentional vulnerability in their auras to revert them to their lowest forms if needed. If you inspected them up close, you’d see the same thing. Ask Anam or Amia. They’ll say exactly what I said. And that same vulnerability seals away their memories. All you need is the right aura key, and…” She motioned to the three slumbering mutant larvae. “Rhys is an aura expert. He taught it to me, Zena. And then to Amia. If you want to help control Owen and ease him into recovery, have Rhys teach it to you, too.”

Ah yes, just casually outing the nature of what Team Alloy is there. Though it was already revealed that mutants are created in this setting, so I suppose the question becomes "to what end?", especially since it sounds like this property is very specifically unique to these four.

... Or Star could be lying through her teeth. But we won't know for sure for a long time at this rate.

Zena’s adrenaline, by now, was gone. “And you want to save him?”

Star: "(Ah yes, good. Good...)"

“Of course I do. All of them,” Star said. “That’s the whole point. I just want them to live normal lives. I want everyone to live normal lives. I want the Hunters gone—or at least, for them to give up. So the world can be at peace. So everything can be… fixed. But I… can’t do that on my own.”

I can see that last-second word swap there, Star. But yeah, I guess this confirms that Star needs the others... for now.

“Why not?” Zena said. “What’s stopping you from just coming to the real world and wiping the Hunters out yourself? You’re the Creator!” Zena shouted. “Descend upon the mortal realm and make it so!”

“Wh—” Star shook her head. “What, you think I wouldn’t do that if I could?! I’d’ve done that a long time ago! I can only see the world through you guys if you let me! If you guys block me from your realms, I… I’ll be…” She shook her head. “I can’t, okay? I’m not descending on the world any time soon.”

Zena: "Wait just a minute, you'll be what now-?"

Star: "Moving right along!"

“Then why not?!” Zena said. “Or are you afraid that if you show your face here, we’ll kill you? Because in the end, you think we’ll turn on you because you were the one who—”

“I’m not afraid that you’re going to kill me!”

“Is that a challenge?!” Zena raised her voice. “No!” She raised her voice even more.

“I’m not afraid because I’M ALREADY DEAD!”

Well then. Though I'm not convinced that Star isn't working around a plan to try and get around that. Since it just feels like the most Star thing imaginable.

This time, despite her tiny, smoky body, it was Star’s voice that echoed throughout the cave.

“I literally can’t come down. It’s the same way for Arceus. We’re dead, Zena. Dead gods! And neither of us will let the other come back. So, we’re stuck.” Star turned around. “I’ll never let Arceus down again. And he won’t let me, either. And if we can stop the Hunters from upsetting that balance… then that’s all I want.”

Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure. Though I can already tell that getting around this is way up there on Star's priority list, and ideally in a fashion that cuts Arceus out of the loop.

“You want… to stay dead?” Zena asked.

Star looked away. “I’m… tired, Zena. I’m… I’m s-so tired…”

Zena’s breathing was completely normal again. He looked at the others.

Just saying, there's 180+ more chapters to falsify this statement and I just flatly don't buy the idea that Star would want this unless there was something in it for her when she is a known manipulator and has lied both by omission and commission repeatedly so far in this story.

Willow sparked a few times anxiously, squirting a bit of web beneath her body. “Oops…”

Zena: "I... did not need to see that, thanks." >_>;
Star: "I can fix that if you just let me into your-"
Zena:

Zena sighed. “We have a common goal. Save Owen, and stop the Hunters. I suppose I can work alongside you until that is completed.” She looked away. “You’ll need to work more for my trust beyond that.”

Bold of you to assume that Star has any intention of keeping your trust past that at the absolute latest.

“Thank you,” Star said. “Can… can I get a hug?”

Zena slithered toward her home. “I am going to wait for Owen.”

Shots fired.

Willow hopped—and partially sank—into Star’s arms instead.

I... think that's a sign to keep a closer eye on Willow, since she has definitely vibed as being the closest of the Guardians to Star in this whole exchange.

Every step the four elite fighters took made soft echoes in the long, winding cave. From the outside, the Spire of Trials looked like a giant spike from the ground. Smooth. It was the perfect monument, and they were sure that Guardian Manny and his spirits had crafted it themselves from a mountain. They must’ve had a lot of spare time.

Amia lit the way forward with a blue flame. The light revealed how well-polished the halls were. “Amazing,” Amia said. “Do you suppose they chiseled it with nothing but punches and, ah, their determined fighting spirit?” Amia winced. “I apologize, Rhys. I’m not familiar with your Typing and their tendencies.”

Oh, so Owen having a normal one there like 3 chapters ago wasn't all in vain.

“I wouldn’t consider myself typical,” Rhys said, but then pointed forward, into the first arena.

Wait, beyond the fact that he's an ex-Hunter? Just going to file that one away for later for when Rhys casually busts out something way off-spec for a Lucario.

And there he was. Feraligatr Azu, posing with his bulging muscles in various stances to show off each one. Every flex felt like it made the air itself bend in shockwaves, the sheer power radiating from him making the atmosphere tremble. It was likely all for show.

“Goodness,” Amia said quietly. “It’s as if his muscles have muscles.” She wondered if she could make Alex look like that with a bit of Mystic work.

“Hm,” Rhys hummed. “From how I understand it, we will be fighting in an order of some kind? From weakest to strongest…”

Oh well, scratch that for Owen's trip here not being for nothing. Though I notice the fact that nobody here is talking about having come here in the past... when there is one known party in this story that's capable of editing memories...

“Who is weakest of us?”

“Me,” James said, nodding. “I may be strong… but I am still limited by Anam’s power output. It would be best if I attack first, and then Anam follows sometime after.”

“Isn’t Anam… only defensive?”

Could've fooled me from what I remembered of him in the GL crossover.

“He has a kind heart,” James said, “but against spirits, he knows he can’t hurt others. He will be able to fight at his best.”

Since just saying, I remember what was shown for what was going on in Anam's head in Steamed Yams.

Rhys nodded. “Then, I am fighting Manny… That leaves you two,” he nodded to Anam and Amia, “to decide who will fight the third and second strongest.”

[ ]

“I wouldn’t consider myself the greatest of fighters,” Amia said. “Not compared to you, Anam! The Association Head of the Thousand Hearts Association… you’re definitely stronger!”

IMO, it makes sense to drop in some description of the characters' reactions a bit somewhere in this block. The bit in brackets was what stood out for me as the kneejerk place to do it.

Anam giggled and blushed a slight purple under his cheeks. “Aww, I’m not that good… but okay, if you say so, I’ll fight after you.”

“Got it,” Amia said.

- Peeks up at story cover art -

Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure that Anam's either lying or humblebragging here.

And with that, James finally called out to the Feraligatr. “Azu! We are ready to battle you with our weakest member, me,” he said. “Do you accept my challenge?”

“I accept!” Azu said, stomping the ground. “Ha! You are familiar!” Azu called out to Amia. “Are these your best?”

Whelp, looks like whoever handled the memory editing after Owen's freakout didn't do that thorough of a job of things.

“Y-yes!” Amia called back. “We’re the strong four of our group, more or less! Well—so far, at least!”

“Yes,” James said. “So, don’t think this will be as easy as your fight with Owen.”

Yeah, memory editing confirmed, since... uh... the fight with Owen sure started easy, but...

“Owen?” Azu repeated. “H-ha! The Charmeleon, you mean!”

“Yes. That was Owen—I’m quite a bit stronger than he is. Do not expect this fight to go as well.”

I see that a part of Azu still vaguely recalls what happened, since I can just feel the:

energy rolling off of him.

“To go as well?” Azu said. “Ha! I see! You mean to say that you are even more powerful than Owen!”

“Yes. I do mean that,” James said. “Did I not state that outright?”

“I see! Very well!” Azu shouted back, clapping his hands together. “Thank you for informing me!”

James: -drawing a leaf arrow- "Tch, weirdo." >v>

There was an odd silence then, where Azu didn’t say anything, and neither did the group. The four expected him to make some sort of statement about taking the first hit or getting ready for a tough fight. At the very least, they expected Azu to perform some sort of Ultimate Pose Technique to dazzle them. But he just stood there, claws tapping one another with his hands together.

“Goodbye!” Azu declared. He exploded in a flurry of blue embers. The way forward lit up with a dim glow on the opposite side of the arena.

James:

"Whelp, this one's all you, Anam. Just try to take this more seriously than that one time you invited Rhys over for dinner." >v>;
Rhys: "Wait, what one time you invited me over for-?"

James: "Moving right along!"
Amia: “Just as well, since I’m actually the one who’s up next.” ^^;

“Oh,” Amia said. “That was… an interesting reaction.”

“I did not expect a forfeit,” James stated, removing himself from his battle stance. The feather-arrow tugged back with an ethereal bow disappeared. “Amia, did you understate Owen’s fighting abilities?”

“W-well, he was getting his scales handed to him when he was a Charmeleon.”

Well, maybe Azu didn't get his memories messed with after all there. ^^;

“But how was he after he evolved?” Anam asked.

“Um… he was a much more difficult opponent,” Amia said.

Once again, understatement of the millennium there.

“You may have understated his abilities.” Rhys nodded. “Nevertheless, we should advance. Amia, prepare yourself for your battle. True to his Orb, Manny wants to see our strength before joining us.”

“Right… of course,” Amia said. “Hmm… oh, how should I approach this battle? It won’t be too hard, will it?”

I mean, unless the next fighter up has Scrappy or some move negating Ghost-type's nullification of Fighting moves... uh... this could potentially be a very short ma- right, Amia’s next.

“We can’t know the strength of the third-strongest fighter. He could be slightly stronger, or leagues stronger than Azu.”

They passed through the exit and continued up the spiral. It was much like the last passageway, only with a slightly sharper curve: The only indication that they were higher in the spiral. After a few more circles around, they saw another dim glow. This one was slightly green, flickering with movement. “Here we go,” Amia said.

Whelp, spirit detected. Since that's one of the colors that goes hand-in-hand with the presence of spirits in this story.

“Hrruuoogh!”

Amia quickly brought up her flames. The blue embers danced around her like tiny Illumise. They saw a Chesnaught posing in the middle of the room. Like Azu, he was bipedal, with a muscular build. What distinguished him, however, was his large, beige shell with four huge spikes on his back. The shell also appeared to have muscles.

Anam: "I... um... don't think that that's healthy, just saying."

“Be careful, Amia,” James said. “Chesnaught are immune to quite a few projectile attacks. Since you specialize in distanced attacking… I would focus on beam-like moves, such as Flamethrower, or field-of-influence moves, like Psychic.”

“Got it,” Amia said.

“Ahh, so you are the ones who have defeated Azu!” Chesnaught said. “I am Verd, the second strongest of Guardian Manny’s summoned spirits! Give me your third strongest fighter!”

“Th-that would be me,” Amia said. The blue Gardevoir waved sheepishly and stepped into the arena. She waved her hand, creating three bright, blue flames above her.

Oh, I see you were vibing after Melia with Amia's fighting style here, since boy is this visually familiar.

“Ha! Then if you are the third strongest, I accept your challenge! Do not think this—”

One of the flames with Amia turned into a jet of fire that went straight for Verd. He yelped and rolled out of the way.

“W-wait! Wait!”

Well, this battle looks like it might be over before it starts here.

“H-huh?” Amia asked; it looked like she was about to launch a second one.

“Y-you didn’t let me finish my speech! I need to psyche myself up!”

“Psyche… yourself up?” Amia said.

“I—I need a second. Give me a second! There’s a process to this!”

Rhys: "... Amia, why on earth are you agreeing to this? There was nothing in the rules that said anything about giving time to-"

Amia crossed her arms confusedly and looked back at Anam, James, and Rhys. The Goodra shrugged. The Decidueye and Lucario merely looked down.

“Okay. Take… take the time you need, dear,” Amia said.

“Thank you.” Verd got into his pose again, stomping on the ground, shouting at Amia. “Do not think this battle will be easy! I shall give you a true challenge to see if you are worthy to face Guardian Manny! Now… let the battle begin! Hrrraaaaaaaa!”

Verd ran at Amia with as much speed as his legs allowed, reaching Amia in seconds.

Should've fried him while you could've, Amia.

At first, Amia didn’t move. She seemed unsure if the battle had started or not. Then, at the last half-second, she deftly moved to the right, sidestepping the initial tackle. He couldn’t redirect in time. He had a lot of momentum, but no agility to redirect. Still, Amia recognized the strength behind his attacks. Just one could do serious damage. She’d have to finish quickly.

I mean, you could just stack those fire orbs and unload on him all at once. A little bird told me that works quite well for mage-esque battling styles.

Verd ran toward Amia for a second time, winding his fist back. Still, he was a Fighting Type. That wouldn’t do as much damage against her. His Grass Type was likely hidden away, similar to Azu. Amia’s embers blasted out another blue-hot Flamethrower. Verd punched through it, forcing Amia to dodge again.

“Fight me head on, Gardevoir!” Verd said. “Do not think that such tricks will be effective against Manny!”

Amia:

"Also, I don't need to defeat Manny. I just need to defeat you."

“Oh, dear, I’m not fighting Manny,” Amia said. “And this is working quite well against you!”

Lol. Lmao. I had a feeling, there.

“Nnngh! Don’t think you have the advantage!” Verd shouted. He pushed his hands together and separated them with a foot-long gap in the middle. An orb of his very fighting spirit formed, brimming with life and power.

Verd launched the Focus Blast straight at Amia. She countered with a Flamethrower again, rupturing the ball of energy. It exploded in a blinding flash, sending a shockwave that knocked Amia back a few feet, but the flames persisted. Verd shouted in surprise—but that was all. Amia’s fire was simply too powerful and Verd was just another ember by the time the flames settled.

2 down, 2 to go.

Though IMO, this particular paragraph worked better as two. I was waffling on where the better cutting point would be, but this one feels like a decent candidate for a splitting point.

“…That was it?” Anam said.

“I suppose Verd was only slightly stronger than Azu, then,” James said.

“Or they drew straws,” Amia added, dusting off her dress. “That wasn’t so bad! I haven’t had a fight in quite a while! Did I do okay?”

“I think you did great!” Anam said, pumping a gooey fist in the air.

Yeah, I can already tell that Manny's going to be a difficulty spike relative to his summoned spirits. Especially since it's been consistently mentioned that spirits are considerably weaker than their conjurers.

James nodded, deciding not to point out the flaws. “You did well for not fighting in so long. Quite well.”

“We should advance,” Rhys said. “Anam, are you ready for your fight?”

“Yep!”

Oh boy, so how much of a massacre is this one going to be given that one of Anam's spirits made his opponent basically nope off the field?

“Yep!”

The upward curve through the spiral was getting even sharper. It felt like the inside of the spire was roughly two or three stone’s throws in diameter. The dim glow met them again—red, now—and this time, they saw an Infernape waiting for them at the center of the penultimate arena.

And there's our third contestant there. Let's see what this guy's shtick is.

“I,” the Infernape greeted, “am Roh, the strongest of Guardian Manny’s Fighting Spirits! Give me your second strongest fighter to face me in a battle of might and honor!”

Anam giggled and wobbled forward. “That’s me!” he said.

Roh: "... I'm sorry, but is this a joke?"

Anam: "Nope!" ^.^

“You, Goodra… shall be my opponent. Do you accept this fight, and not stop until either of us falls?”

“I accept!” Anam said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. They made wet, slapping noises.

Roh seemed slightly unnerved. “And… you are certainly the second strongest?” he said. Despite his hesitance, his voice was still loud.

Lol. Might've jumped the gun a bit, but I figured that Anam's outward demeanor wouldn't exactly impress a hardened fighter.

“Yes! Well, Rhys and I might be around the same strength, maybe… but Rhys would be good against Manny, don’t you think?”

“The Lucario?” asked Roh. “Yes. Manny would appreciate that. Then, very well!” The Infernape went into his fighting stance, holding his two fists in front. “Do not expect me to go easy on you! Let the battle begin!”

Whelp, time to see how quick this battle gets settled, since I did not exactly recall Anam being a pushover in the GL crossover.

Roh moved perhaps a single inch out of his starting position. Anam opened his mouth and fired an intense, blue blast of dragon might from the back of his throat. The blue suddenly became indigo, and for a fleeting moment, it looked like the blast Anam had fired had grown dragon wings of its own. The wings tucked in, accelerating, twisting toward its target.

Roh had no time to dodge. It went straight through his chest, leaving a hole behind. Roh stared in surprise, looking down at the spiritual embers that poured from him. He didn’t have the words to react. Then, delayed, he said, “I—” His body burst into embers, returning to the Guardian above.

Lol. I knew that this one was going to be a massacre, even if I'd expected him to put his Ghost Guardian powers more to use... unless if that's just what that freaky dragonfire that didn't stay dragonfire thing was, since I suppose there is one ghost in particular that that appearance would vibe with.

Amia: "... I'm beginning to think that we should've had Anam go last in this challenge."

[*][9:58 PM]

Anam giggled, clapping his hands. “That was fun!” he said. “He’s so cheerful! I like Manny’s spirits. They seem really fun to talk to!”

“G-goodness, Anam,” Amia said.

He's talking about more than just that brief exchange earlier, huh? Though yeah, I had a feeling that the others were going to be taken aback, unless Rhys is just a lot more broken than I originally gave him credit for.

“So, are we gonna go to see Manny, now?” Anam asked.

“I—I suppose so!” the Gardevoir replied. “Um… Anam, did you tap into your Mystic power for that attack?”

“I might have,” Anam said, rubbing his ill-defined chin. “After a while, your Mystic power just naturally enhances your attacks.”

Yeeeeah, y'all should've held onto him for Manny. Assuming he wouldn't have instantly ejected them on grounds of "that's cheating".

“O-oh, right.” Amia nodded. “Of course. Um… let’s go. Rhys?”

“I am prepared.”

The turns got even sharper, and a strange smell filled the air. The further up they got, the more it became… foul. Rotten. An ominous air filled the atmosphere with every step they took. Cautious, the group walked a bit closer together, and a bit more slowly. Every so often, Amia bumped into Rhys from behind.

“S-sorry,” she mumbled.

Oh, that's not a good sign considering the state the last two Guardians we found were in. Though I suppose if there's someone to summon the actual spirits, that Manny's probably still alive right now?

“What’s that smell?” Anam whined, covering his nose.

Amia nodded. “It’s quite… strong.”

James had his eyes closed, walking with them. “…It’s the smell of decay,” he said. “The decay of… bodies.”

“B-bodies?”

“Yes. I am familiar with this smell. It is death.”

Yeah, I had a feeling. Though the fact that Manny's spirits are still out and about seems to suggest a:

scenario.

Around the corner, Amia stumbled over something. “Oops—what was…” She brought her flame closer and screamed. She scrambled back and bumped into something else, screaming again. Anam screamed with her. Rhys and James tried to calm them down. Rhys held Anam steady, getting goo all over him; James tried to get near Amia, but his feathers got scorched in the process.

It was the fallen body of a slain Pokémon. There didn’t appear to be any major wounds on it, but it was lying there for quite some time—at least a day.

“O-oh, Arceus…!” Amia said.

I kinda wonder if the throwaway dead Pokémon should've been mentioned there to give a bit more concrete detail to this scene, unless the idea is that everyone can't see clearly what's going on. In which case, it might make sense to give like broad-strokes features or something like that.

“We must advance,” James said.

“Did—did Manny do this…?” Amia couldn’t look for long. She walked, looking straight; she only gave flashing glances below her to avoid stepping on anything else. Anam was covering his eyes, guided by James and Rhys; the Goodra was shaking.

“It’s okay, Anam,” James said. “Relax. It’s just a body…”

I suppose that's one sign that Anam has killed people in the past, and enough that it's a "for me it was Tuesday" matter. Guess he's followed 'Mister Matter's suggestions a few times in life, huh?

Anam whimpered. The feelers on his head twitched. “D-d’you hear that?” he asked.

“A-a ghost?” Amia asked.

“H-huh? No, not a ghost,” Anam said.

They stopped walking to listen.

“Hah! Yah! Heh… that all yeh got?!” It was coming from ahead and above.

... Wait, is Manny still fighting whoever attacked him yesterday?

“…Isn’t that Gahi’s accent?” Amia said.

Oh, so Gahi's not the only one who has his own speech pattern. I didn't even realize that until this was just pointed out.

An aura explosion blasted the wall. Amia yelped and jumped away, slamming into Anam. “O—oops, sorry, dear!” She struggled to break loose of his gooey belly.

“What was it?” Anam asked, clutching Amia from behind in fear.

“J-just an Aura Sphere!” Amia said, unable to move out of Anam’s grip. “Rhys?”

Rhys: "Uh... sounds like Manny's a bit busy right now. But I didn't think that he took his challenges this far."

“Yes,” Rhys said. “I’m beginning to understand why they wanted me to fight Manny.”

After only a few more steps, they saw it—another Lucario, a bit taller than Rhys, and significantly more muscular, rather than Rhys’ lean build. And the other Pokémon—a fierce one, Garchomp—but, more importantly, it was like all the other mutant, clean auras. Something was different. She used her arms as legs, and those arms were larger than a normal Garchomp’s. It looked like it was built for quadrupedal movement.

She growled and rushed at Manny, and the Lucario laughed and dodged every strike. Fallen Pokémon littered the ground—the Garchomp was the last one standing, aside from the Mystic she was fighting. Was he fighting the entire time, ever since Owen had arrived?

Oh, so that's the second Lucario of your fic that you've mentioned in passing a few times. Though yeah, I had a feeling from the corpse collection downstairs that Team Rim tried to come by and knock Manny off.

“Watch out!” Amia shouted.

“I got it, I got it!” Manny said, firing another Aura Sphere at the Garchomp.

She screeched and tried to dodge—but it was impossible to avoid the Sphere. She shouted and slammed against the wall, collapsing.

Amia held her hands to her mouth. “Is… is she…?”

The Garchomp abruptly roared and attempted another Dragon Rush toward the Fighting Guardian. In an instant, he countered with another Aura Sphere.

Amia recognized those movements of that Pokémon. The desperate lunge, that primal, single-minded need to fight to the very end, against even one’s own body’s physical limits—that Garchomp wasn’t going to quit, no matter what. She looked at the bodies in the arena, and then at the last one standing.

Amia: "Well, that would explain a thing or two about why there's a bunch of dead bodies littered everywhere for the last floor or so." .-.

The Garchomp slowly stood up. She growled, wobbling closer to Manny.

“P-please… stop,” Amia said.

Fight and fight and fight—but instead of Azu, who lost once Owen evolved—and lost quite badly, in fact—Manny wasn’t even tired. He was on a completely different level than this Garchomp.

Who at this rate will be an ex-Garchomp in about 5 seconds.

The mutant growled, glaring at Manny.

“Just… stay down,” Amia said.

The Garchomp lunged.

Amia thought, for just a moment, that the Garchomp had transformed. Like it had wings and a flaming tail. Running straight at Manny, straight toward his death, driven by thoughts that were tied to his original purpose.

“P-PLEASE, STOP!”

Manny fired directly at the Garchomp’s head.

Well, that's going to be a mess to clean up afterwards. Though just filing Amia's negative reaction away there, since I can already tell there's a deeper story behind it.

Alright, another chapter under my belt. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting the story to start drifting out of Team Alloy's perspective so early, but it's a welcome change of scenery. Like a huge chunk of this chapter is basically just trying to put Humpty Dumpty back together again after Klent's bombshell reveal last chapter, which inadvertently takes out the rest of Team Alloy and gives us our first good look at what the "cycles" they go through look like from the outside in. It also did a good job at teeing up the sense that something isn't adding up with Star, since... yeah, it was really obvious that she had ulterior motives from the way she was conducting herself in the aftermath of last chapter's reveal. We also got our first glimpse of Manny, who seems like he could be a fun character to keep an eye on, along with some first glimpses both at what lies beyond the veneer for James and Anam (which granted, I'm spoiled a bit on from side stories), and what seems like it'll be the start of more focus on those mutants that keep popping up in the story especially since this is the point where the story just bluntly informs that Team Alloy are mutants themselves, just built different™.

For critiques, the chapter was generally well-polished. There were a few paragraphs of dialogue stapled to longer bits of narrative description or else dialogue spoken by separate characters that I felt would work better separated out. There were also a couple points where I felt that certain details or thought processes could've been shown off a bit more, but the lack of detail might have been intentional given how HoC is more or less one continuous series of reveals and surprise swerves.

Not sure when the next time I'll cross paths with this story will be since I'm already having to take a hard look at my Review Blitz goals to trim back certain reaches that I just don't have time for this year. But I hope the feedback was fun to take in @Namohysip , and until next time.

 

[Namohysip]

Oh man, so many to reply to! I'll catch you on my next post -- got a busy Sunday noon. For now, here's chapter 191!

Chapter 191 – Morning’s Rude Awakening​

Everything’s set up.

“Gah!” Angelo squeaked, tripping over himself mid-Tailwind. Drawn gusts flowed around him haphazardly, kicking up real debris, leaving him in a dusty heap.

“It’s ready?” Owen asked, kicking off the ground and gliding to the edge of the Chasm.

In the crater's center, just as wide as the original Tree of Life had been, there was a comparatively minuscule tree anchored in the center. Zena frowned thoughtfully. “Will that be enough?” she asked.

“No. Now comes my part,” Owen said. “Zena, you’ll be needed for the start of this. It’s not necessary, but it’ll be a boost.”

“Right, I remember.” She then glanced at Nate. “And you’ll be…”

Returning home. I can’t wait to see how it feels to be back in a Tree again.

The strange, many-eyed blob of darkness swirled in the crater, surrounding this tiny, tiny Sapling of Life. Tiny compared to what the real Tree would be, at least. Owen called for Angelo to return to Kilo Village for more practice and then slid down to the bottom of the Chasm.

“Let’s get this started. Most of the day before Alexander wakes up will be on this…”

At least, that was the hope. They needed time to go over everything, but one step at a time for now. They couldn’t force this part.

“Owen,” Zena said. “Do you think getting Dialga to help us might speed this along?”

“Dialga?” Owen asked. “No. Not this time.”

“What? But it’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

“Sorry, I mean—yes, it would help. But I want to save Dialga for something else. He’s one of my contingencies.” Owen gestured to Nate pooled around the sides of the crater. “He’ll be enough. The Worldcore can help accelerate all this power. We just need to channel what we can to help Nate.”

It will help if you draw out your Hands for this part, Nate added.

“Oh, I can do that. Should we also get one of the gods to help?” Zena asked.

“Let them save their energy,” Owen said. “Beating Alexander’s going to need almost everything we have. I don’t want to sacrifice more than we need to for this.”

Perhaps just a kilo earlier, Owen would have agreed, though. But Hecto’s words had affected him. Yes, he had to try a different path, but total defiance might have been an overcorrection. Enough to set things up. He had to trust Nate to handle the rest.

Satisfied with this, Zena nodded and melted into the ground. Her presence expanded across the crater in a thin layer of water up to Owen’s ankles. The water glowed with Mystic energy, seeping into the soil. Nate and his many Dark spirits guided that water toward the tree’s roots, which Owen had started to manipulate.

His scales shifted to green, leafy feathers. The flame on his tail made way for that same grand, white daffodil. As he closed his eyes, his feet melted into the ground as vines, coalescing temporarily with the new Tree of Life.

Thanks for the help, Forrest, Owen said to the remnant energy within the Torterra’s former trunk. It’s time we take over.

Slowly at first, and eventually enough that Owen was pressed against the trunk, the Tree of Life began its ascent into the heavens.

<><><>​

“There’s really no way for you to clear up the sky, is there?” Nevren hummed, looking at the red atmosphere above them. “It’s all very depressing.”

Alexander growled irritably as they exited Fae Fae Forest. “No. Shut up about it. This will be the landscape of Kilo under my rule.”

“I suppose you are comfortable under it,” Nevren said idly.

On Alexander’s other side was a canine Zygarde tinged with Shadows. He didn’t speak. Instead, darkness infested him so thoroughly that he’d been reduced to an obedient little drone, just one step away from a Void Shadow.

Nevren supposed it would do, though he doubted any sabotaging words would throw off Kilo’s forces. It was still worth a shot, though, and Nevren had instructed Hecto to send false information mixed with real information at random. Unfortunately, knowing the results of that strategy was beyond the scope of his Revisor. But it would have to do.

“Now, about moving forward,” Alexander said. “Tell me everything about Kilo Village as it stands.”

“Well, based on your description of your ‘internal’ forces, it should be trivial to defeat them,” Nevren said. “Unfortunately, the typically best strategy—that is, surrounding the mountain and squeezing their resources—will not work too well. The village does not rely on physical pathways to go from place to place.”

“Their Waypoints, yes…”

“So, a war of attrition is not on the cards for someone like you,” Nevren said. “Additionally, I imagine you do not want to bother with hopping Dungeons. They have already largely cut off most other Dungeons… and unfortunately, the realms are bleeding together, making travel unpredictable.”

“Then a front assault is best. What are their forces?”

“Their elites are conveniently numbered at exactly one thousand. Their best fighters, individually, will lose to you. Their top ten, together, would prove a threat… if you were alone.”

“But with my personal army…”

“By way of capable fighters, with my estimates, you outnumber them a hundred to one,” Nevren said, nodding. “Even greater if you include the countless inexperienced fighters that you may simply throw at them as a thrall.”

Alexander smirked. “Their only hope is the Radiance of the sun. Even now…” Alexander raised his head, closing his eyes. “…It’s weakening me. I’ll admit that. But I will hold out long enough that when the sun sets, they will hold no chance.”

“It’s the miasma, isn’t it?” Nevren asked.

Even though they’d long since exited the forest, it still felt like they were walking through the Voidlands. Nevren concluded that a more accurate description was that the Voidlands was following Alexander.

“Yes. Naturally, if I don’t want to deal with the sun, I bring the dark with me.”

“Simple enough, I suppose,” Nevren humored. He wasn’t weak to the sun. He could harness this dark power without its drawbacks when the time came. The only requirement was waiting for Alexander in a moment of weakness.

It was odd, though. Nevren was sure he’d have to reapply his control over Alexander now and then if his psyche destabilized. Yet, so far, Alexander had been perfectly obedient. Alexander seemed to think Nevren had always been by his side.

Perhaps without a true Dark Matter to resist things, Nevren had an easier time with Alexander than Anam? Nevren didn’t care about the theory behind it. Perhaps after Anam, Alexander was simply easier due to practice.

Whatever the case, Nevren saw colorful dots on the horizon. Pokémon. “The forces of Kilo seem to be on their way,” Nevren said. “Why not speak to them for a surrender first?”

“Yes. A good idea. That way, when they refuse… they will only have themselves to blame.”

Fine enough. “Hecto, if you may,” Nevren said. “Tell your other copies that we wish to discuss things before battle. I’m sure they would love any extra time to prepare.”

“Understood.”

Nevren chuckled. “And now, we wait…”

<><><>​

To a casual observer, Kilo Village was in chaos. To anyone properly within the cacophony of activity, it was anything but.

Hecto had given “the” signal. Alexander was awake, and he’d emerged from Fae Fae Forest. He was on his way to Kilo Village.

Everyone at Heart HQ instantly dropped what they were doing and mobilized. Phol led the medical division with a small but specialized group of healers, while several more procured their healing supplies.

Jerry led the utilities branch, scouring Nevren’s old materials within Heart HQ's storage room to grab his latest inventions before he’d gone—wands imbued with Anam’s blessings, and strange metal bracelets that did the same. More traditional equipment like Orbs and Seeds were quickly distributed.

However, according to Hecto, Owen was busy with another task, leaving Anam fidgeting in his office, pacing left and right. Amid all of this, he hadn’t expected to be placed in the leadership role again. Why couldn’t Barky do it, or… anyone else?

Knock knock.

“Y-yes?” Anam called.

“Just me!” It was Demitri. “Anam, is everything alright?”

“Yes! Just fine!”

“Anam, I can sense emotions…”

“…Um, maybe it’s broken?”

Demitri sighed. Suddenly, the door broke off its hinges, though Demitri was still holding the knob.

“Ah! Oh, I’m sorry!” Demitri winced, trying to place it back. It was no use. “Oh, maybe… after this is over, we can fix that,” he mumbled.

Anam nervously glanced around his office: Books stacked and finally cleaned on the shelves; a map with several important markings and crosses to indicate inspected territory; his crystal-clear hydration pond in the back… Everything was perfectly organized thanks to James’ help, but… that also meant he couldn’t have an excuse for what had occupied him.

“We need someone to lead Kilo Village,” Demitri urged. “They know you best.”

Anam squeezed his eyes shut. “I know,” he said quietly. “I just… What if I’m…”

He could still see it in his mind’s eye. Anam and his ten best, the very beginning of the Thousand Hearts, marching into a Dungeon plagued by Shadows. The swarms of wraiths that tried to kill them all at once, with Anam forcing his allies out. Taking the burden of Dark Matter’s blight and becoming his vessel.

But this time, it wasn’t a demon flailing for oblivion. It was Alexander, intelligent and purposeful, controlling that same darkness with pure malice. The Usurper of Shadows. The Void King.

Not to mention… Nevren would be there, too.

Scaly claws gently touched Anam’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Demitri said quietly. “Listen, it’s almost time. Everyone’s getting mobilized, Owen should be here soon, like… If they see you looking like this, imagine how demoralized they will be! We’ve got your back, too!”

Part of Anam wanted to leap out the window, roll down the mountain, and run into the woods. He didn’t want to march everyone to their deaths again. It might be even worse this time.

“…Do you need a hug?” Demitri asked.

Anam flinched. “Wh-what?”

“Uh—sorry.” Demitri cleared his throat. “Just… had a feeling you might need some assurance. And sometimes, when I’m stressed, I—”

Anam lunged for Demitri, squeezing him as if in a vice. First, he used his arms, then his antennae, careful to avoid the blades on the Haxorus’ face.

It had been too long. Everyone avoided him for that, everyone was too busy and too serious for any kind of affection. It burned Diyem and everyone else probably wouldn’t enjoy it…

Gently, Demitri hugged back. “Oh, one second…” Demitri pulled away and reached for his tusks, popping them off. He set them on the table and pressed again, leaning his face against Anam’s neck.

“There, see?” Demitri said.

Gently, Demitri patted Anam’s back, trailing thin strands of slime that he quietly ignored. Anam studied the way the scales on his back reflected the morning light.

“I… I’m just so scared,” Anam said, melting into Demitri’s hold. “I wasn’t meant for this… I just wanted a world where everyone could be happy, so Diyem could be happy! He gave me power, so I wouldn’t have to worry about all the danger… and in return, I’d help everyone. That’s how it was for centuries! A-and now, there are people even stronger than me, a-and I don’t know how to deal with that… I don’t know, I don’t know…”

“That’s how we are every day, Anam,” Demitri said gently. “There’s always someone or some group stronger than us individually. I know being weaker is scary to someone who used to take on whole armies alone, but… you have us to rely on now. And we still rely on you. You’re still strong, Anam! And you can face Alexander with the rest of us. Even Nevren—no, especially Nevren. Don’t you want to confront him after all he did?”

Demitri pulled back, looking Anam in the eyes. Trails of slime connected the two.

Nevren… Anam did want to confront him. But with Alexander by his side? It was starting to creep in just what that would entail. What all of that meant.

But he had to.

“After this,” Demitri said, “it’ll all be over. You won’t have to lead the whole world again. You can leave it to others. But right now? Kilo Village needs their Heart of Hearts.”

Demitri repositioned, bringing his arm over Anam’s shoulder. He struggled a bit with that one. Anam was still much larger, and now that he was standing more upright, that height difference was all the more pronounced.

“If you’re ever scared,” Demitri said, “go to someone you trust and fight by their side. Your parents, or us, Owen, even Diyem. How’s that sound?”

“Won’t I look scared?” Anam asked.

“We all are,” Demitri said. “Set an example. Fight by them. That’s the best way to dispel the Shadows anyway, right?”

“Right.” Anam took a sharp breath, held it, and exhaled. “Okay. I’m ready. Sorry. A-are people waiting for me?”

“They will be soon. Let’s go!”

Anam followed Demitri out, though the Haxorus abruptly stopped and he slammed into Demitri’s back at the doorway. Demitri was so solid that Anam practically splashed over him, the Haxorus not even moving from his spot.

“Mispy! What’s wrong?” Demitri asked.

The mutant Meganium’s vines wrapped around Demitri and spun him around. “Your tusks.”

“Oh!” He’d left them on the table. As Demitri scrambled to get them, Mispy nodded at Anam and said, “Everything’s ready. We’re marching west and scouts took a Waypoint closer.”

“Thanks.” Anam breathed out. “Team Alloy… You guys were some of the newest Hearts, huh?”

Mispy smiled wryly.

“I-if there’s still a need for us after,” Anam said, “I’m definitely making you guys Elites!”

“Does that come with good food?”

“Uh—sure! I mean, you could probably buy the best food on the planet with your pay!”

Mispy looked like she was seriously considering this.

“Alright, all set!” Demitri said, ax-tusks back in place.

Demitri, Mispy, and Anam marched out of the Heart HQ—among the last to do so. And they had no plans to return until the world was saved. The great building, red and vibrant near the southern border of Kilo Village’s caldera, reminded everyone that no matter how chaotic the world became, their hearts would beat as one.

<><><>​

When Hecto had given the alert, Owen was one with the Tree. It took Zena and three Hectos to pull Owen out in that meditative stance, and once he was back to flesh rather than wood, Owen grunted and said it wasn’t ready yet. But it would have to do. Nate would need to work double-time to get the Tree the rest of the way.

So far, it had grown to cover half the crater’s area. To be at its full potential, it had to cover all of it, rise high into the sky, and its roots had to go deep into the earth.

“Can you do that?” Owen asked Nate.

I can. I’ll give everything for it.

Something about that seemed… No. Owen had no time to question it. “Thank you, Nate,” he said. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Good luck!

Such a casual line for the fate of the world. Owen smiled faintly and took to the skies.

But only a few seconds later, he saw a Hydreigon flying his way. At first, Owen was ready for a fight—but the lack of Shadows or encroaching feelings of doom suggested it wasn’t Alexander, but Owen’s father.

…Which was also strange.

Soon, Alex entered Owen’s Perceive range and Owen then sensed Amia’s daintier figure riding on Alex’s back.

“Dad?” Owen sped up. “Mom? What’s going on? I’m already on my way.”

“Owen, I…”

It was the start of a speech but Alex couldn’t find the words to finish. Owen waited patiently for his father to gather himself…

Owen flexed his wings to remain in a glide, conjuring updraft to maintain his altitude. Alex had a much easier time, floating with some strange force Hydreigon naturally controlled. Alex nervously eyed the growing Tree of Life behind Owen, while Owen eyed Kilo Mountain over the horizon.

Amia smiled, leaning to the side to make eye contact. She hopped off Alex and floated on her own. “Hello, dear.”

“Hey, Mom. Feeling alright?”

“A little better every day,” she said, tense. “…But today’s going to be a hard one for all of us.”

“Yeah. Uh, you aren’t… fighting with us?”

“I was planning to,” Amia said. “But I wanted to be with Alex for something. We were going to talk to Nate about it. Is he busy?”

Owen glanced at the Tree.

“…Kinda. What’s it going to be for?” It seemed like everyone had their own idea on what to do about Alexander, but for it to be Alex driving this one…

“There isn’t a lot of time to explain,” Amia said. “But Alex and I talked this morning after we noticed you already went out. Hecto told us about, um… earlier.”

“O-oh. Yeah…”

“Everything you’re doing, Owen… made me decide,” Alex said, “I need to help, too. In a way only I can.”

“Wait, what’s this about?” Owen asked.

“Owen!” Zena called. She had doubled back after realizing Owen had gotten distracted.

“Go ahead!” Owen called. “Need to sort something out!”

Zena twisted in the sky, looking conflicted, but sighed sharply and continued to the Waypoint.

“I really can’t talk, yeah,” Owen admitted. “But—will you be okay? Dad? Mom?”

“We’ll be okay,” Amia said. “But after this is over, there will be some… life changes.”

Owen’s mind raced to piece together the puzzle. He knew they were being vague because if they went over the specifics, he’d be there all day. And they did not have all day. They hardly had a kilo to spare. Alexander was coming now.

“Will I talk to you again?” Owen asked. Straight to the point. That’s what mattered.

“Yes,” Alex said. “I don’t know how long this’ll take me out… but you will one day. I’m sorry—I wish I could’ve told you sooner, with more time, with—with anything, but—”

Owen swooped in and draped his arms over Alex’s neck. He spread his wings and managed to pull Amia in with them. Vaguely, he felt the presence of countless Fire Spirits listening in from Amia’s Guardian realm.

“I’m coming to see you as soon as I can,” Owen said. “Wait for me, alright?”

He squeezed a little tighter, Amber’s claw lightly pressing against his chest and Alex’s, before he pulled away.

Alex looked like he was going to cry. Amia smiled gently. For a moment, Owen thought she was truly back.

“See you,” Owen said, ducking below them to catch up with Zena.

Owen puzzled together enough with a bit of educated guessing. He had an idea of what was going to happen. If Alex was willing to go to such lengths for the world… then Owen had to follow through with his match.

<><><>​

“I see them.”

The miasma was thick. Even though Nevren took care to make sure it didn’t corrode his body or aura, he couldn’t help but compare how different this was to Dark Matter’s Dungeon so many centuries ago.

“Do you intend to make a full assault from a distance?” Nevren asked.

“At first. But… I want to see their forces up close.”

“Hmm. Perhaps, to save us the trouble, we can send a message to them first.” Nevren fished around in his bag and pulled out a Communicator. “This will send a message right to them if necessary. Perhaps they will surrender.”

Alexander looked at it skeptically.

“If I’m also by your side,” Nevren explained, “perhaps they will.”

“Hmm… I don’t need that.” Alexander stared at the mountain. “I’ll send my own messenger.”

The Shadowy Hydreigon raised his left head and pointed diagonally upward. He charged an attack, dark mist coalescing in an ever-brightening maw.

“Wait—”

And he fired, the blast’s recoil enough that Nevren heard Alexander’s shoulder dislocate and the jaws of his arm’s head snap. But rather than wince in pain, Alexander’s eyes widened with pleasure. Nevren suppressed his disgust and eyed the trailing blast. A thin rope, like a thread, remained in Alexander’s grasp, connecting him to the blast that arced in the air with weight.

Alexander’s wounds healed. Replacing parts of his body that had ruptured were cracks and black ichor in place of blood, looking like dried mud over a tar pit.

“And now,” Alexander said, “we will see how they react to a mere messenger.”

The world around them darkened. That long thread radiated a black mist that condensed unevenly in front of them. Nevren kept his senses alert, ready to use his Revisor at a moment’s notice. But instead of an attack, Nevren saw… dark clouds rushing past him harmlessly. He saw distant, dark figures scrambling, getting larger.

“A visual,” Nevren whispered.

“We won’t be able to talk in person. They wouldn’t ever allow me that close without a fight. So, some Shadow projection will have to do. Reach into that darkness to do the same.”

Nevren steeled himself. It wasn’t ideal, but this confrontation would have to do.

Long, drawn-out conversations made Nevren nervous. It was harder to Revise those moments. But… did it really matter? He already had Alexander perfectly under his control. Yes, he’d let Alexander have his little speech. Then, when the time was right… Nevren would assume authority.

And then, finally, they would all listen and see him as the world’s true hero.

<><><>​

“Sorry! Sorry!” Anam shouted, squeezing past formation.

Sunrise painted the western sky just brightly enough to see the incoming dark star Alexander had fired. The Thousand Hearts’ army had made it only a few kilometers out from Kilo Mountain, readying for a full-speed assault, when Alexander had fired the first volley. They hadn’t expected it, but they reacted quickly.

Anam knew Shadows well enough by now. As he tripped over well-trodden dirt, he felt little urgency. There was no power behind those Shadows. Combined with Hecto’s report of wanting to speak with Alexander first, this was a means of communication and little more. But he was so focused on getting to the front that he’d forgotten to call for everyone to stand down.

Shields came in first. Protect users atop fliers braced themselves for the incoming blast. Reinforcers came next, ready to heal the stamina of all the shielders. But then, it seemed that the blast’s arc was… taking an unexpected, downward turn.

“D-do we move ahead?” shouted a braced Bastiodon.

“Let it miss!” Phol ordered. “Blasters! Squad A! Shoot it down!”

A Thunderbolt guided by an Ice Beam crackled through the air but phased right through the blast.

“What?” Phol muttered.

As the electrified mist settled, the Shadowy aura spread across the ground, coalescing into a familiar shape, though it seemed to be an illusion.

“Wait! Wait, I’m coming!” Anam called.

Phol grunted. “Finally,” he muttered. “Heart of Hearts. The front was organized, but we have an unexpected visitor.”

Word spread through Communicators. The whole line halted, remaining on guard. It was a whole army on Kilo Village’s side and just Alexander and Nevren on the other, backed up by an incoming storm. Between them was an empty field nearly two kilometers wide. And now, spreading in front of them, a harmless Shadow miasma twisted to depict a repeating pattern of Alexander’s form.

Anam pressed until he was in front, thanking the others as they stepped aside, mostly to avoid his slime.

“Ah—”

“Hello. So… you’re Anam. The Heart of Hearts.”

And suddenly, it no longer felt like an illusion. Logically, Anam knew it was one. But his senses filled in the gaps. The flickering, black projection filled with color in Anam’s mind’s eye.

“You don’t have to do this,” Anam said. “I’m t-told that the Voidlands is—”

“Shut up. What was that? A stutter? When we aren’t even face to face? What are you?”

Alexander leaned closer. Even with just an illusion, Anam found himself taking a step back.

“Is this really the leader that united Kilo for five centuries?”

Anam wished Diyem had been here. He was leading another front.

“I—”

“Oh, that’s right. You were never their leader. You merely followed Dark Matter’s advice to minimize suffering. Now I remember. Without his power fueling you, you’re nothing more than the world’s strongest child.”

“Stop!” Anam shouted. “I’m—”

“Do any of you truly believe he’s worthy to lead you?” He turned his head to face the others. Left, then right, making eye contact with so many at once. “Perhaps you should let someone else lead this world. Someone who actually knows how to run a kingdom.”

Then came a new voice that sank Anam’s heart into his stomach.

“Someone like me.”

The projection expanded, revealing Nevren standing beside Alexander. The Hydreigon glanced at him and went silent.

“Nevren,” Anam whispered. “How could you?”

“…Nevren,” the Alakazam repeated. “Not… Nev-Nev, this time?” Nevren tilted his head. “I’m surprised. You’ve grown up. Albeit, only slightly.”

Anam didn’t know what to say.

Nevren paced around Alexander, standing in front of him. “Anam,” he said, “for a time, I intended to control you and subtly alter your psyche to be subservient to me. Ultimately, you would become a figurehead while I manage things quietly, undisturbed. Make sure every institution is operating as it should. Every little detail is in its proper place. It would have worked swimmingly. No problems. No sacrifices. And really, Anam, from what I’ve learned about you…

“You’d love to simply follow orders and not think about it. Wouldn’t you?”

“That’s not true!” Anam said. “I—I took advice, but I never obeyed Diyem’s commands!”

“Oh? And what were those commands?” Nevren asked. “And remember: the world is listening to this. Your communicators are open. Even if they aren’t, Alexander’s Shadow Storm is reverberating this very conversation for everyone to hear. Now, tell everyone the commands your partner, Dark Matter, told you.”

Anam glanced at the storm. He saw faded reflections of all the other squadrons staring at him. No matter where he looked, eyes stared back at him like a twisted version of Nate’s spirits.

Answering was the only option. “…Dark Matter was in constant pain from every single negative emotion the rest of the world felt. Even to this day, he feels that. The only difference is he’s learned how to deal with it. Sometimes, he wanted that pain to go away… b-by any means necessary. He wanted the world to be destroyed completely so there would never be pain again. He wanted to be free from that suffering, and the only way to have that was to kill everyone else.

“But people like me, and Owen, and our friends convinced him to make the world a better place instead. He would tell us where the most suffering in the world happened, and we’d step in to make it better. And that’s what I did… for hundreds of years. I wanted to make the world a better place! And I used that power to do it! A-and… and things have gotten better, haven’t they?”

“Have they?” Nevren repeated.

“You have only drawn out the world’s suffering and displaced it,” Alexander said, shoving Nevren aside to take over. Nevren rolled his eyes and gestured for Alexander to go ahead. “All those villages and the kingdoms that refused your word were instead taken over by force. No, it was not always brute force. Sometimes by economics. Social unrest. Dazzling the masses with your technology, subtly reminding them that their rulers are depriving them of the next step in civilization.

“You are a tempter. You are selling an easy answer with your divine might. And for those that refuse you even after that? You simply came in… and usurped their king. Just as you did to my homeland, the South. Just as you did… to the last southern king.”

“Face it, ‘Heart of Hearts.’ Behind the kind eyes and gentle façade, you are a warlord like any other. The only difference is you won and got to tell the story how you wished.”

“Th… that can’t… that can’t be right at all!” Anam said. “I never… forced, I… I mean, that’s not…”

The illusion rippled again. Alexander looked briefly confused. Was someone, or many someones, trying to disrupt it?

The eyes were all staring at him. He didn’t have Diyem to tell him what it meant. They loomed over him like jeering ghouls in his nightmares. Was Alexander right? Was he just another warlord?

“Do you know what the difference truly is between us?” Alexander said. “Whereas you, in the light, blind yourself to the truth, Shadows do not allow you to suppress your true emotions. To properly coexist with Shadows, you must obey the Shadows and unleash your truth, your inner, savage self. The only difference between you and I… is that I chose not to lie. I chose to conquer with full and complete… honesty.”

Another voice chimed in before silence could settle. “Yeah, that’s enough.”

Anam flinched. “Huh?!”

“What?!” Alexander hissed. “Who is hijacking my projections—”

A new figure appeared, dissolving Alexander’s. An Aerodactyl. Jerry, the Broken Heart, the outlaw, the disgraced Southern Prince.

“You…” Alexander’s voice hissed. “Shadows were ripped from you. How are you controlling this?!”

“Can’t say I know either,” Jerry said with an amused smirk. “I’m just a normal Aerodactyl now,” Jerry said. “I’ll chalk it up to experience. I know how this ticks. Mortals aren’t as helpless as you think, buddy.”

The illusions rumbled and distorted. Alexander wrested control back. It was like he and Jerry were competing for a speaker. “Enough! YOU are one that Anam had crushed to complete his vision! You have no reason to defend him. Revolt! See the truth!”

“The truth,” Jerry interjected, his illusion appearing instead, “is that you’re both terrible, but I hate you more. Yeah, Anam crushed my kingdom and all my livelihood. Yeah, he forgot about me while trying to put the world together. Yeah, he made mistakes. But you know what you got wrong?

“He hosted Dark Matter. He had more Shadows than you. So, guess what, buddy—Anam had to face the truth, too! The difference between you? Right down to the core, his truth is that he wanted to help. You wanted to conquer.”

“And y’know what? If I had to pick between you, him, and whatever star-head is doing there?” He gestured vaguely to Nevren. “It’s Anam. And I’ll pick Anam every time.”

Alexander seethed. Nevren pushed Alexander aside, and for a moment, while Nevren wasn’t paying attention, the Hydreigon looked livid. Alexander drifted back as Nevren took center stage again.

“Oh, hey. The traitor,” Jerry greeted. “What’s the matter? Couldn’t find a good ninety seconds to retry over and over?”

“There’s no need for that anymore,” Nevren replied plainly. “Congratulations on figuring it out. I’m proud of you.” He didn’t clap. “While I’m always up for a rousing debate, there’s far too much pathos flying around and so little ethos and logos. You can speak all you want about feelings and hopes and wants, but what matters in the end is implementation and experience. I have both. Anam merely followed the schematics of others.

“And to demonstrate that, I will make an ultimatum. If you retreat now—any individual, not a judgment of you as a whole—you will be spared. If you press on, you will be… converted into something more useful for the new world. Something more obedient. I will allow half an hour—sorry, approximately two kilos for you to make your decisions. We shall see how unified your forces truly are at the face of death.

“That will be all.”

“Seriously?” Jerry said.

Anam puffed out his chest. “We’ve already unified. Nobody will back out now! We know what we’re facing!” Anam shouted, this time more resolute. “Your mind games won’t work anymore, Nevren. This time… no amount of rewinding will save you from justice!”

“Oh, my. And how long have you practiced that one?” Nevren sighed. “I’m the real person who saved Kilo. My logistics are unparalleled. I will run Kilo into a new and permanent era of order and prosperity where darkness and light may coexist. All you have to do… is listen and cooperate. Simple, yes?”

At first, there was silence. Then, Anam heard murmurs in the illusory veil. Something was disturbing the Shadows. It seemed that others were trying to usurp its control, and in the process, everyone could hear everyone else.

“What’s going on? Why is Nevren talking for that demon?”

“Didn’t know Alexander was his pet, too…”

“He’s got a punchable face.”

“‘Unparalleled logistics’? Who says that?”

“Poor Anam…”

Alexander looked like he was about to explode.

“Hear that?” Anam asked. “Everyone afraid to fight is already waiting in reserves. Everyone ready to die to save this world is fighting here. We aren’t afraid, Nevren.”

He stood to his full height, looming over Nevren’s projection.

“Because the Thousand Hearts goes way beyond the ones doing the fighting. When the whole world is facing a threat… the whole world’s heart will beat as one! And this time, that threat is you. You might’ve beaten me, but you can’t beat the world. I reject you, Nevren… and the world rejects you both!”

The murmurs were getting louder. Morale was rising. Anam’s chest fluttered with hope. Were they believing him? He was hardly believing in himself for a bit there. But… maybe he was okay after all.

Among all the murmurs, Jerry sighed and rubbed his forehead. He opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. Opened it again, gritted his teeth, and then relaxed.

“Yeah,” Jerry muttered. “Y’know what? Screw it. Let’s show our unity right now. Everyone!”

Jerry raised a wing.

“Say it with me!”

Anam squinted, confused. Say what?

“A thousand hands / a single heart…”

Anam’s heart skipped a beat. A united voice followed:

“…Working and beating as one!”

Jerry continued, “Unite the lands / from worlds apart…”

“Until our battles are done!”

There was no hesitation now. Anam joined in, his eyes full of tears and his chest full of thanks.

“We serve Kilo and all its parts! Under one name: The Thousand Hearts!”

The roar shook the miasma. Alexander and Nevren were barely visible amid the countless souls that dared interfere with his message. Anam only vaguely saw Alexander’s form looming over Nevren’s from behind.

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren’s blurry form said, shrugging. “To ever have faith they would be smart enough to understand… Alexander, prepare the—”

Alexander lunged at Nevren, narrowly missing some part of his body. Nevren vanished. And then the connection died, dispelling the miasma.

Some of the roars quieted as they noticed the odd behavior—Anam did, too—but that was dwarfed by everyone else rallying for their final push. Anam, swept up in the momentum, led the charge.

They had much of the day left, with Kilo’s future on the line. With light in their eyes, the Thousand Hearts and beyond marched into the abyss.

 

[StolenMadWolf]

Righto, time for me to give this particular fan-fic a visit. I remember having a brief peek at this story a few years ago, but I never got back round to carrying it on. Well, no better time than now to start a fresh review on some of the chapters here as part of the review blitz on TR. So, as a disclaimer, I tend to focus on worldbuilding, characters and plot over everything else, but I’ll try and cover all bases.

Spoiler: Prologue and Chapters 1-2 Review

With that, I’m going to cover the Act 1… prologue, I guess? Coupled with the first two chapters. But either way, we do get a very intense start. A skirmish is unfolding, and our little protagonist is on the backfoot. His dad literally explodes, whilst his mom has to cradle him whilst it seems like he is dying from a severe injury. Welp, that escalated quickly it seems. But then it soon enough appears to be little more than a dream. He’s fine and his parents are fine to be sure… or are they? The dream is quickly revealed to have been real. And it’s clear as day that his parents are obviously worried about his safety in the wake of this, especially with the fresh kick of amnesia or confusion in Owen’s head. But already we are getting some interesting worldbuilding. Mutant Pokemon? Alex saying his body seems… foreign? What is all that about? I’m sure we’re going to eventully start getting the answers to these kinds of questions down the line.

Chapter 1 and 2 pretty much cover that first inevitable mission or practice exhibition. Seems like we have a bit of the Explorer’s partner here, only more courageous, and more prone to crashing out and burning to try and join the Hearts, which seems to be the fic’s resident guild equilvent. Okay, this feels a bit more by the books than I recall but that might just be a distant memory. The use of Waypoints does seem like an interested development. A seemingly more developed society yet mons are still living in caves? Quite the sharp contrast, but at the same time, given this is Pokemon we are talking about that is nothing new. At least the Hearts themselves seem friendly enough… and actually start showing signs they might have seen Owen poking his head around, even when he doesn’t remember this. Hmm… more questions seem to be floating around. Just gotta hope we don’t get too many questions floating around too earlier here.

Of course, we then get the inevitable first true fight, and it does take an interesting tack. It’s clear that Owen is no match for his opponent, but he does surprisingly well mainly by relying on his wits over his raw strength. Of course, it’s not quite enough, but we do get a pleasant rescue out of it at the end of the day. Cue a couple of final interactions between characters as we go along.

Worldbuilding wise, things look pretty good. We don’t know a huge amount of the world, and parts of this are delivered in the form of exposition tips from the cast which does take out some of the intrigue, but we still get some nice snippets, and being early days, the plot is looking pretty cool too, even if it leaves more than a few questions dangling for future chapters to follow up with. In terms of characters, whilst Owen, his parents and the Elites all have pretty clear personalities, I’m not quite seeing as much of the same thing as the others outside their different opinions and dialogue. Maybe I just need to see Team Alloy in a bit more action before I can update my opinion on that accordingly.

That being said I do have one complaint about the fan fic so far itself, although it’s fairly minor and I wouldn’t really urge you to completely revamp the story to adjust it. It’s more to do with the chapter structure. I’m of the mind that every chapter should have a purpose, regardless of it’s length. The prologue is ideal for a purpose in this kinda sense, and would arguably qualify as a well-placed oneshot if it was it’s own thing. But Chapter 1 and 2 do feel like they could been split into smaller chapters. Chapter 1 not so much, but we do have the transition between the town and the dungeon to consider. Chapter 2’s battle is fairly brief… but still could have been compiled into it’s own chapter without much issue, allowing the rest of it to form a shorter and more digestible Chapter 3.

Speaking of the battle… I don’t actually have much to say on it. Which is odd given I’m normally make a point to focus on combat in stories. Show don’t tell is definitely present, and it’s certainly clear enough. It’s a strong concept at the start whilst the second half is more conventional. Maybe the dialogue doesn’t quite match up entirely with the way I’m reading through it? Maybe I want to see how they are feeling in the fight more? It’s hard to pinpoint what I’m looking for. There are a few points where I’d want to see more than a comma or a fullstop, such as an explanation mark or ellipsis, but it’s not enough to raise alarm bells. Also… that is something that bothers me, I don’t know how they got the Aerodactyl out of the dungeon? They seem to disappear for a couple of moments before ending up outside.

Either way, it was an enjoyable read. It does have some solid ideas out of the gate, and hopefully we’ll see more stuff akin to that of the prologue. The later chapters do drag slightly due to their structure, but they were still fun reads regardless. Looking forward to seeing more!

 

[Namohysip]

So many reviews, and I've been hopelessly busy! Agh! I'll reply to you all soon!

Chapter 192 – Rising Sun, Rising Momentum​

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”

Fangs sank into his shoulder and injected him with Shadowy venom. The cold was unlike anything he’d felt before, even past the rot Anam’s shadows had once inflicted.

The Hydreigon tore away, keeping Nevren’s arm while letting the rest of him fall to the dirt. The searing pain was nothing new, but that coldness was and it left him rattled.

“Is something wrong?” Alexander said with a sick grin.

Yes, something was. Nevren’s eyes darted about, looking for an exit. He focused on an area just beyond the miasma, readying a Teleport—

Alexander’s main fangs seeped into Nevren’s neck. He gurgled as black ichor spewed from his mouth, dribbling down his chin. Some acidic Shadow venom coursed through his body.

With his one good hand, Nevren reached for his Revisor. With his smaller heads, Alexander clamped onto his wrist and elbow. All three heads grinned, holding him there, inches from activating it. Nevren couldn’t send a Psychic wave to it. He was cut off.

A smaller head let go of his elbow. “Did you really think you could control me?” that smaller head whispered into Nevren’s ear.

Fresh coldness coursed through his veins. He felt his blood turn to black sludge that slithered through his heart and into his muscles and bones. He should have been dying, yet he wasn’t. Alexander wouldn’t let him. Every second felt like ten. His eyes darted about, reflexively trying to Teleport each time.

And then ninety seconds passed. Nevren’s Dead Man’s Switch activated.

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”

But he remembered, mid-sentence, that Alexander would attack. He disappeared, dodging left. He knew Alexander would strike there and the momentum would send Alexander toppling forward. He’d use that instant to escape.

Nevren glanced left—

And suddenly, Nevren went toppling from a stinging, agonizing cold against his back. He coughed out blood that was already tinged with black Shadows.

What?

Alexander had done a light punch that time. He hadn’t toppled over. He’d pivoted instantly to blast Nevren instead.

Nevren skidded on the ground, unable to move his legs. He didn’t know how many seconds that had been—three? He had to endure another eighty-seven.

“You knew,” Alexander muttered. “You knew where my attack would come from.”

Nevren squinted. Everything was blurry. But he could Teleport. “I suppose I’m just lucky,” Nevren wheezed.

Then he vanished, only having the energy to get a few hundred meters away. But it had to do. He’d missed the height and appeared several feet in the air, landing hard in the dust of Alexander’s Voidland trail.

He took a few of those remaining seconds to breathe and assess his injuries. The adrenaline wore off, the throbbing, hot-cold sting taking its place. He was missing a foot; the blast had torn up his back. When did that happen? This was no condition to rule. He had to Revise again.

Alexander drifted toward him, looking pensive as he dashed to catch up. By Nevren’s estimates, he’d have to endure twenty seconds of pain before it would go off. He’d already set it to Revise automatically. He wanted no extra second of this.

Nevren squeezed his eyes shut, bracing.

SLAM!

He’d heard something and his body jolted, but there was no pain.

“Tch.”

Nevren peeked. Alexander’s right head had burrowed into Nevren’s thigh.

“Hit you too hard, did I? You didn’t feel a thing.”

He pulled the head out and aimed his left one at Nevren’s chest.

“It’s fine,” Alexander said.

What’s happening? Why is he… different? He’s not behaving the same, why is—

“I’ll do a lighter shot next time.”

The world rewound.

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”

Dodge left. Alexander missed. Duck. Shadows careened over Nevren’s head, singing his back. That shot was faster than last time. Had to Teleport—

Suddenly, Nevren was on his belly, blood trickling down his forehead.

He gasped awake and tried to roll over, only to realize that Alexander had pinned him to the ground by the shoulders.

“Ninety seconds. That’s how long you must endure.” Alexander brought his main head over Nevren’s, resting it between the horns of Nevren’s star-shaped face. “Does it also undo death?”

Nevren tried to Teleport. It was shot.

“Let’s find out.”

Fangs sank into Nevren’s skull. First came pressure, and then he heard a sickening crack, a pain he couldn’t begin to think about, and then nothing.

He floated in a sea of darkness. Countless hands dug into his spirit, plunging him deeper. He started to enjoy it, and then he stopped thinking about it. Seconds became an abstract concept. And then…

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”

Left. Down. Teleport—

No! His Teleport was already shot, just from Alexander’s sheer overwhelming presence. What was happening?

Nevren glanced at his wrists and gasped. Alexander hadn’t fired a blast of Shadows this time—instead, thin little strings had tethered themselves to Nevren’s wrists and arms. Those were what stopped his Teleporting… Some holding attack that pierced even his best escape attempts.

“You died,” Alexander said, an amused lilt in his voice. He spoke as if he’d just found out.

Someone was telling him. Somehow, he was being fed information about—

Alexander dashed into Nevren when he blinked. Before he could react, Alexander bit into his ribs, cracking several. He tossed Nevren like a ragdoll and the strings pulled taut. Alexander jerked them back and slammed Nevren into the ground, breaking the rest of them along with at least a few limbs.

“I’m guessing it’s tied to you. So many little failsafes… You were killed before. Caught off guard before. You probably lost it by accident a few times, too. But each time, you found an escape… eventually. Because we all acted the same each time, yes? Very, very clever… What a unique little talent you have.”

Blood clogged Nevren’s airways. It was getting dark. He focused on how to escape, or how Alexander was—was bypassing it. He was remembering, rapidly, from…

The Voidlands. Alexander was a gateway there, to the farthest reaches where his Revisor, in Kilo, could not reach. His Shadow spirits, watching… filled him in on what they were seeing.

Those Shadows were an extension of Alexander’s being. He existed across multiple planes of reality at once. He couldn’t… Revise him!

Now that he thought about it, if Owen was in the depths of the Worldcore, from what he’d learned from the Hearts’ communications… that explained his resistance, too. Was that another realm? Or…

His wandering thoughts soothed him. He wasn’t sure what Alexander was doing to his body at this point but it was violent, slamming him on the ground like a ragdoll. But, once again…

“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”

Left, Teleport. Yes! He’d made it. It was only brief, but he’d—

A Shadow Blast struck Nevren on the shoulder. He wailed from this one, mostly out of pure frustration than anything else, as he held his shoulder and realized he already had to Revise, again, to deal with this kind of injury.

“Did that one hurt?” Alexander asked with that same entertained lilt in his voice.

Nevren readied another Teleport, startled by the pain, but Alexander was faster. Those tethering binds stuck into his wrists again, leaving no pain but a pressure that he couldn’t escape. His muscles refused to listen when he tried to gain any distance.

Alexander slowly drifted closer, savoring every second as Nevren’s heart pumped faster. He wondered if Alexander could feel that feral anticipation.

“Oh, Nevren,” Alexander said, “I should be thanking you.”

He brought his right head to Nevren’s shoulder. The fangs seeped in slower. Nevren only realized then that he’d been completely paralyzed by… was this fear? Had he completely frozen, waiting for the reset? Was he waiting like some feral prey for the slaughter?

Alexander’s red pupils glinted like he’d been given the world’s treasures.

“Someone I can kill over and over again… someone who so assuredly deserves every death… the complete isolation you feel from both worlds…

“Will they blame me if I… savored this?”

Ten seconds. He had only ten seconds left of this.

And then he’d escape.

Please, he had to escape.

<><><>​

“You’re going to confront Alexander, Owen. But that is where the fatal flaw will arise.”

“What? I’m… going to lose to him?”

“It won’t matter. I can’t tell you much more, Owen, or it may alter your path too far in the other direction. Just know… of what I saw, remember something: Practicality over poetry.”

<><><>​

Owen left little trails of embers from his tail as he flew over Kiloan forces, all marching toward the encroaching red horizon. They seemed to be conversing with something—communications between the two sides? Owen frowned, pensive. What good would that do?

But just as Owen began his descent to the front lines, the side with Alexander and Nevren seemed to blossom with countless copies of Hydreigon and Alakazam swarming around the field, see-through and overlaid on top of each other. Owen felt a mild headache coming on. It felt like he was watching—remembering?—the same thing happening in different ways all at once. He moved forward, his body seemingly going on its own.

He watched himself in overlays while he forcibly followed one of those many paths. Countless phantoms of his own body flew in slightly different directions. He had no idea how he saw himself or what trickery this was.

And ahead, he saw countless instances of Nevren being caught by Alexander, ripped apart, blasted, shredded… All except for a single pair more solid than all the others. In this one, Nevren dodged each one, and Alexander only half-heartedly chased after him, looking somewhere between bored and entertained.

For this solid pair, Nevren scrambled away like a wounded feral, despite having no blemish on him. He disappeared and reappeared many feet away and then blasted a strange portal into the ground, falling into it without any sense of caution. It was the only instance where it happened, and during it, Alexander laughed and shouted something as the Alakazam fled. Owen couldn’t hear it.

And then, all the phantoms disappeared like they’d never happened.

“Aghh…” Owen rubbed his forehead. That was weird. What was that? All his phantoms had also vanished. And he’d regained free movement again.

“Owen!” Anam called from far below.

Reminded of where he was, Owen tucked his wings and dropped to the ground. With a quick updraft, he slowed his fall just in time.

“Anam! Did you see that?”

“Yeah!” Anam said. “The communication just… disappeared! I think Alexander attacked Nevren!”

“Yeah, but did you see the part where it happened a thousand times?” Owen asked quickly.

“Where it… what?” Anam tilted his head.

The Hearts nearest to them also looked confused. Communications were coming back on and it seemed each squadron representative was sorting things out with the other.

Nobody else remembered.

“Was it… a Revisor thing?” Anam asked. “But we don’t remember those… Only the final one.”

“Yeah.” Owen seemed pensive. “I saw Nevren run through a Dungeon portal with his Dungeon maker. He’s probably… No, I know where he went. He’s probably at Quartz HQ. But that could be a serious problem.”

Because even if they defeated Alexander, Nevren would have more and more time to regroup. And he still had Ghrelle’s Dark Matter remnant, didn’t he?

“He’s advancing again!” cried a scout.

“Oh no—we’re still disorganized!” Anam said. “Okay, let’s—”

“I’ll buy time,” Owen said, nodding. “Get everyone ready!”

“Owen—”

Owen left Anam to do the leading for now. Once he got backup, the fight would be a lot easier.

The Charizard closed his eyes. He tapped into that same, ravenous feeling for battle like before. He planned to give Alexander no warmup. Hecto was enough of one for Owen anyway, and it seemed like Alexander already had his own with Nevren.

Soon, Alexander entered his Perceive range—which taught Owen that he could not rely on it very much. Alexander’s internals had become entirely amorphous. It reminded Owen of Anam when he’d been using Diyem’s power. Emily, too.

He pressed onward, knowing that trying to attack from afar wouldn’t do much. Alexander was too mobile from afar. Had to get closer…

It seemed everyone became part Void Shadow with enough of Diyem’s direct influence…

Owen brought his arm back, forming a javelin with one of the Hands.

Alexander’s eyes widened with a frenzied glee. He was going to dodge right. Even with Alexander’s amorphous body, Owen sensed the beginnings of that dash. As the prismatic light flaked off of Owen, revealing black scales and a blue front, Owen pivoted to follow Alexander’s movement an instant before the Hydreigon could react.

Abruptly, Alexander’s left head fired at Owen’s chest at point-blank range.

With a wail, Owen missed his arm and instead grazed Alexander’s neck, piercing the crest of his shoulder’s mane and doing little else. He beat his wings hard and gained extra distance.

“One treat after the other,” Alexander said as he rushed Owen, unaffected by the wind from the Charizard’s wings.

Owen quickly separated them with a Chaos Protect, white and black sparks splashing in all directions when Alexander smashed into it. The sheer impact left a crack in the barrier as Owen struggled to his feet. Shadow fissures cracked the ground like a bullet through glass, rotting what little of the grass remained. It all became red ash.

Owen pressed his foot into the ground and channeled his energy into it. Then, as the Protect faded, he pushed back to gain some distance.

Alexander closed the gap, predictably, and the Grass Trap erupted beneath him. Radiant vines ensnared Alexander, sizzling his scales. They strained and groaned against Alexander’s momentum but held firm. Owen had seconds and seized them, blasting Alexander point-blank with blue flames.

“RRRRAAAGH!”

Scorched scales peeled off Alexander’s face as Owen kept up the flames, stepping closer to further concentrate the blast. Boiling black ichor spattered on the vines, withering and weakening them by the second.

The vines snapped. Owen brought up his Hand, once again a javelin, and aimed for below Alexander’s jaw and through his skull—only to again miss, this time nicking his cheek.

Alexander hardly had a face anymore, just two glaring eyes surrounded by melting Void Shadow material.

Owen beat his wings, kicking up dust and blue embers that swirled in the air. The heat lightly obscured Alexander’s fierce expression…

Only to realize that despite it all, Alexander was laughing.

For now, Owen couldn’t find a good opening. He kept up his guard, holding his favored Hand as a javelin that extended behind him into a long, winding whip.

“Can’t we enjoy this?” Alexander said. “Come on. It isn’t every day you get to use all your power against someone.”

“Only got this sort of power recently,” Owen replied. Talking was fine. It bought the Hearts extra time.

“Same here.” Alexander’s eyes widened even more. His grin stretched more than his face should’ve allowed, showing a long row of glistening, obsidian teeth. “A whole realm inside of me, powering me, submitting to me.”

“Spirits you’ve enslaved,” Owen countered, pointing his divine javelin toward the Hydreigon. It was so long that its tip was only a few feet removed from Alexander’s face. Perhaps, if he concentrated, he could extend it… but it’d be too slow. Alexander seemed keen to guard his head.

“Oh, and are you any different?” Alexander asked. “I can sense a realm of spirits in you, too. Your connection to the aura sea… Did it get stronger?”

“It’s the Worldcore,” Owen said.

“The Worldcore…” For a moment, Alexander was mystified. But then, he seemed to have a flash of realization. “You really made such a pact?”

“I made one a thousand years ago,” Owen said. “…How do you know about it?”

Alexander’s smile wavered. This time, it was… pensive. Then, he shrugged. “I sifted through Dark Matter’s memories and made them my own. All that pain and sorrow… but that knowledge, too. Knowledge of what this world is, was, and will always be. And a realization that Dark Matter had it all wrong. He suffered from others’ suffering. I am fueled by it. Suffering is a universal constant… So why not indulge in what will always be there?”

“He wanted to end it,” Owen replied. “Don’t warp his power into—”

“I am his power now, Owen,” Alexander said. “Have you ever noticed how weak your precious Diyem is now? I have already usurped his throne as the god opposite to yours.”

Alexander drifted toward the javelin and grasped at it with his right hand. Owen’s heart skipped a beat; it felt… cold. He could feel through the javelin a deep wrongness from this contact.

He pulled away quickly, jerking the Hand back and cutting Alexander’s right jaw in the process. Little flecks of Shadows peeled off the javelin, which had briefly lost its glow. With some focus, it returned.

“Then they’re really opposites,” Owen muttered.

“Perhaps,” Alexander said. “But now that I say it, I have a better word. I say your side is… disposable.”

Owen glanced at the incoming army of Hearts. A few more seconds.

“Owen,” Alexander said.

He didn’t answer. He only glared.

“I must confess something.”

Owen’s scaly brow raised. The blue fire that spewed from his jaws reminded him that he had to fight, he needed to feel flesh through his claws, but patience won out. He was better than that.

“I’m not fighting you at my best.”

“What do you mean?”

Alexander’s grin only widened. And then, suddenly, a cacophony of cries and shouts exploded from the Hearts’ front lines.

“I have an army, too.”

Cold realization gripped Owen’s stomach. Patience died in that instant and he closed the gap between them.

<><><>​

They came out of the ground. All at once, just as they passed over an imaginary line in the soil, Void Shadows burst forth and enveloped entire Hearts in an instant. All were freed—these were Kilo’s best—but many had been injured, darkened, or left too frightened to hold a battle stance.

And that was only the beginning.

“Watch their eyes!” Jerry roared, blasting at an exact doppelganger of himself with eyes that didn’t shine like a living Pokémon’s should. One, two, three rocks pelted the dark Aerodactyl, puncturing holes through its frail, false body. It melted into the ground as nothing but strange tar, but it still stirred. Not down, but stunned.

“Don’t attack each other!” Anam called. He was a few squadrons down, swinging his tail to take out several Void Shadows as they were still forming. He channeled a faint black aura in his hands and blocked an incoming Void Shadow’s claw swipe, only to take a flaming fist to the jaw a second later from Phol.

“Not me!” Anam said.

“Ngh—” Phol hopped back. “Sorry, I—”

“KRAAAAH!” A Scyther jumped from behind Phol, blades ready to cut him into quarters. A Flamethrower turned it to Void ash that blew away to regroup.

“Avoid any Shadow powers,” said Phol’s savior—a serious-faced Charizard with a black flame. “I can’t help it, but you can. It’ll confuse our forces right now!”

A quintet of Void Shadows—each one a different, monstrous form—stampeded their way closer. Diyem cursed and took on a defensive stance, spreading his wings.

A dark rift appeared just ahead of the Void Shadows. Out came Madeline as a Giratina, twisting and reshaping into a Goodra of the same colors as the five Void Shadows spattered on the ground, inert.

“No you don’t!”

From her shadow, Decidueye James emerged and readied a feathery arrow. Madeline touched the base of the arrow; her hand glowed with Radiant energy, and then James fired. The arrow struck a Void Shadow’s melted form, followed by a Radiant explosion that incinerated all five. Little blue wisps remained, which flowed skyward.

“Radiance… Yes. Keep doing that,” Diyem said.

“I’m guessing you can’t control these ones?” Madeline asked.

“Alexander trumps me now,” Diyem spat.

“Wonderful.” Madeline stomped to defend Diyem as James took to the skies to scout where the Hearts needed more help.

“We have to get to Owen,” Anam reminded. “Let’s try to carve a path, and, um…”

“Advancing suddenly got a lot harder,” Jerry said. A new surge of cries meant the Void Shadows were returning.

Jerry and Anam stood back-to-back, both readying blasts to counter the next wave.

“We have to try,” Anam pressed.

“I know, I know,” Jerry muttered.

“Send word to command,” Madeline ordered. “Make sure Xerneas is ready! We’re preparing for an advance… Expect losses!”

Anam winced.

“Tch. Don’t get nervous,” Jerry said. “That’s what Xerneas is for.”

“But if they get Voided…”

“That’s what you’re for.” Jerry’s spaded tail thwacked the ground just as the Void Shadows closed in. “ATTACK!”

The Aerodactyl and Goodra split off, Shadows and Radiance alike coloring the skies.

<><><>​

Far in the back, behind three major rows of the Hearts’ advancing front, were Angelo, Xerneas, and Leph surrounded by a squadron of powerful Hearts to keep them safe. The Smeargle felt like the tiniest Joltik among giants. Those around him were spoken of in legends or in newspapers for great feats or being literal gods.

And then there was him, his chest hammering, as he shakily looked over his notes and procedures for what to do. “D-Decorate, Psych Up, Baton Pass, Psych Up, r-repeat,” he whispered. “We need more boosts to the front.”

Leph was using her single Hand of Creation like a conductor’s wand, capturing drifting auras in the air and bringing them to Xerneas. His hooves were deep in the soil, legs practically like roots, as he drew energy from their current position to power his revivals.

Yveltal guided the auras with her wings, reaping them from the skies and blowing them to Xerneas below. These auras drifted into his antlers and hung there like dewdrops. Occasionally, especially the first time, they transfixed Angelo as those auras became enveloped in light, growing into small fruit-like ornaments. Then, when Xerneas shook his head, each one flew off his antlers and fell into the soil, sprouting into little saplings.

Then, with some divine Geomancy, the flowers expanded, budded, and bloomed, revealing Pokémon inside. They cracked their necks, stretched their limbs, and nodded in thanks before they rushed to the front anew.

Angelo was positive he’d seen a few Pokémon go through this process more than once. These Pokémon, as they advanced, trotted over their own dead bodies to march to their deaths anew, completely unafraid of the consequences. A Marowak plucked a Bone Club from his old dead hands. A Muk utilized its own corpse for more mass to throw around. A nearby Typhlosion picked up his fallen ally Trevenant’s body for extra kindling.

The sheer utility these Pokémon came up with once their deaths became a strategy was… frightening. Angelo couldn’t understand the mindset.

Some deliberately took their time, shaken by their deaths, and looked reluctant to dive into the fray. Leph calmly instructed them to remain in the back row and have some of those already there advance to the row.

It was a cycle of war—a fondue machine of blood and souls circulating those same lives to die again and again. It was… horrible yet beautiful. Angelo was thankful to be on their side. The only reason Alexander could keep up was that he had his own eternal army. It was just a matter of who would run out of energy first… or if the sun would set and time them out.

“Are you okay?” Leph asked.

“Huh?” Angelo froze.

“You’ve… been in a trance for a while. Do you need more energy?” She raised a hoof.

“I’m okay, I—I need to… focus on everything. Sorry, it’s very…”

“It’s okay. You’re doing well,” Leph said. “But we need your mortal boons to accompany my divine ones. Do you need direction?”

“No, I’m fine. Right. Hang on.”

A few lingering Pokémon were waiting for extra boons. He started there. Drawing little strawberries like the Alcremie who had taught his great ancestor, he tossed them three times to a patient Rhydon. The sketched berries Decorated him in waves of light, bolstering his power. Then, Angelo drew a spiral in the air, feeling that same power flow through him. And, lastly, he eyed an awaiting, abnormally muscular Feraligatr—a mutant, perhaps?—and drew a stick with a glimmering star at the end and tossed the baton to him. He caught it with a toothy grin, flexed enough to leave a crater in the ground, and sprinted away. Angelo barely had enough time to Psych Up the boons again.

“Ahhh. There you are.”

Angelo blinked. Something about that was so… familiar. He glanced back, only to realize that it wasn’t just one Pokémon, but a whole second army behind a select group of leaders.

Another Smeargle—in the spitting image of Angelo—placed a paw on Angelo’s shoulder.

“Well! Can’t say you’ve changed too much!” he said.

“D-dad!? But you’re—”

“Things have… gotten a bit unstable in the afterlife,” Angelo’s father said, gesturing behind him. “We’ve got a larger squad coming in soon. Bit of a rift we spotted, and Hecto instructed us to come along.”

When Angelo squinted, he noticed that there was a faint glow coming from his father and everyone else he’d pointed at. The shock and swirl of emotions were dulled only by the adrenaline and strain of pumping so many boons onto the Hearts earlier.

“Dad… I don’t—I don’t know what to say! You’re…” He must have been in shock. Angelo thought he’d collapse or cry or… something, but he was so focused on the battle that he didn’t know how to react. He was on autopilot, readying another Baton Pass-Psych Up combo.

“Say nothing! This is… a temporary arrangement. But I heard you’ve been trying to use your powers in a fight! I was worried.”

Angelo winced. “Worried.”

His father patted his shoulder harder. “It’s not in you, son. I’m glad you found a spot in a time of crisis anyway, but I’m not mad you aren’t carrying that legacy. Wish I could’ve told you when I was alive. Really regret that. So, I’m telling you now!”

Confusion. A flash, just a flash, of anger at him dropping it so… casually. Years of shame and doubt that he’d failed the ancestral tradition, just for his father to come in and…

But this was what he’d been hoping for, too. That his father would have understood. He’d been expecting a debate, a grudging acceptance. Yet… his father looked so proud.

Angelo could’ve cried. Before he could—

“So!” His father clapped his paws together. “Those look like battle notes. I’ve got the same kit as you. How about I double up, eh?” He looked at Xerneas for approval. “By the way, how easily can you revive—”

“No.”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged.

“W-wait! But if you die, what does that mean?” Angelo asked. “Do you… super die?”

“Ohh, we’ll be fine. We’ll get shunted back, but I think we’ll be right on our way again! There’s this giant Torterra, you see, who ferried us upstream with Zygarde’s help.”

“I see…”

His father continued to skim the notes. “Oh, this one’s complex. Have you tried it?”

“N-no, I haven’t been able to, and it has a few flaws anyway. We sort of set that one aside because we couldn’t figure out how to arrange it in time…”

“Nonsense, I know a few fixes!”

Angelo and his father spotted another rift forming. It was almost like a Dungeon, yet even more chaotic. On the other side was an endless sea of blue embers, each one solidifying into a different Pokémon with that same ethereal glow.

Notable was the greatest flame, which became the one all the other spirits had been riding. A Torterra the size of a large house landed with a great, earth-shifting rumble as a fleet of Pokémon slid off him. More flew off of the strange, glowing tree on his back.

“…You must be Forrest,” Xerneas greeted. “The former Ground Guardian. And you…” His eyes trailed to a Lopunny remaining in the tree—one whose ears were instead great, white wings. “The former Flying Guardian.”

“Oh, um, y-yes. That’s me.” Lopunny waved sheepishly. “Lopunny Cara. I, um, I’ve been talking with Forrest, planning a few small things… just in case…”

The Torterra did not move. Instead, his gaze slowly scanned the battlefield, and he settled.

“I will return… when I must ferry more across the aura sea. Ones that are missed. Tell Yveltal to move any spirits to the tree on my back. But the battlers here are the best the afterlife has to offer. Warriors across eras.”

Xerneas nodded, eyeing it. “…Strange. That does not appear to be a normal Torterra tree.”

Angelo squinted at it. Now that he thought about it, the tree did seem odd. The fruits were colored like rainbows and they glistened like diamonds under the sun. The wood looked like it had come directly from the pastel environment of Fae Fae Forest. The roots themselves were… embedded into Torterra’s back, but they didn’t fit well. They’d been recently placed there. Angelo winced at the thought.

“Interesting…” Xerneas turned his attention to the front. “Very well. You will assist in keeping our battlers… present.”

Angelo’s father beamed and said to Angelo, “Well. Shall we get some advanced support ready?”

“I… I’d love that,” Angelo said, his chest warming with vigor as he finally realized the gravity of what was happening. “A-and, if we have time, after, can we… talk?”

“I’d love nothing more.” He then turned to Cara. “I need you to find me a few specific individuals. I need a Shedinja, and I need you to find the Fire Guardian!”

Xerneas’ expression froze. “Fire Guardian?”

“Yes, I know a particular technique that will help in this instance, but Electric Guardian should also do.”

“I’m not sure where Amia is,” Xerneas murmured. “She left with Alex. Perhaps she will return, but she was meant to be a reserve fighter.”

“Ah. And the Electric Guardian?”

“She was… very enthusiastic about being in the front lines.”

“Hrm, has she died yet?”

“No.”

“S-such a casual thing to ask,” Angelo murmured.

“Actually, we can’t afford to have our Guardians die,” Xerneas said. “If they do, they run the risk of losing their Orb. The mortals can die as much as they want; I can revive them freely. But a fallen Guardian will mean permanent losses in our output.”

Leph, just returning from a revitalization of the front lines, seemed to overhear the last of the conversation. “I can get Sera if you need her. Send a messenger for Amia. But we need to advance quickly.”

“Quickly?” Xerneas echoed.

“Owen’s… struggling. And I don’t know why.”

<><><>​

Owen had clashed with Alexander twenty times in ninety seconds.

But each of those times happened a little differently, and yet also simultaneously.

Their bodies blossomed out from an origin point ninety seconds ago. Some of the Owens and Alexanders went left. Others went right. In some of them, Owen had the upper hand, Perceiving each move Alexander made. In most others, Alexander had the upper hand, as if precognition allowed him to outpace Owen’s very predictions. Then it was a game of reflexes.

Then, when ninety seconds passed, all but one instance vanished, and it was one of the worst timelines Owen had witnessed. Though, often, not the worst… Owen saw glimpses where Alexander managed to do far more damage to him, yet that vision was not the one that remained.

Scattered memories buzzed in Owen’s mind as he looked at a wound on his arm that he was sure he’d dodged fifteen times. He felt a pulsing ache in his wings from a blow he’d dodged eight times. Worst of all, he felt the sting of a Shadow Blast to his shoulder that he’d dodged all but thrice.

In the chaos of the battle, Owen had no idea how it happened. Couldn’t think it over. But mercifully, everything was singular now, and Owen was no longer watching himself move without his command.

Alexander smirked with all three heads.

“Having trouble?” he said as a swipe narrowly grazed Owen’s arm. A follow-up chomp with his other small head smashed into Owen’s Protect instead.

“Looks like your army’s not doing as much as you wanted,” Owen panted back. Vines stitched his wounds back together as he absorbed the sunlight.

“They’ll wear down,” Alexander said. “My army, unlike yours, is immortal. Tireless. My eternal servants. Some of them might have once been your friends.”

“All the more reason”—Owen bashed his Protect into Alexander’s face—“to free them!” Something crunched. It didn’t deter Alexander’s smile. His face, cracked and leaking black tar, pulled together the same way Owen’s wounds had.

Everything blossomed again, this time only into three separate paths. In one. Owen flew back to avoid a blast, easily parrying it as he gained more distance to fly to the rest of the Hearts. He had to warn them, had to assist them, and Alexander was too slow to catch up.

In another, Alexander lunged for Owen faster, biting Owen’s tail but ultimately losing his hold but leaving a gash behind.

But in the third—and this one persisted as the final reality—Alexander sped past Owen and blasted him enough to break the Protect.

“Ghh—”

And then tackled Owen to the ground.

“What luck,” Alexander hissed as he pressed Owen into the ground. His two lesser jaws had Owen pinned by an arm and his neck. “Time to take what’s mine—”

Alexander clenched around the arm and neck, and then opened his main maw and aimed at the spot just above his wings, at his spine. Owen conjured a barrier to block Alexander’s advance, but now he pressed harder. His teeth broke and replaced themselves with obsidian Shadow fangs. His Protect cracked.

He couldn’t move. He could only pray. Holding his breath, Owen prepared for the worst, mind racing for a way to recover as he sorted through his scattered memories of the past moment.

“Gh—”

The blinding sting of Fairy energy blasted Owen’s scales. It hurt more than usual—while the Fire dulled it, his existing Dragon energy reminded him that it was a dangerous element.

Far worse for Alexander, however, who had released Owen to dodge.

Star had appeared in his Perceive an instant later from a Teleport, floating between him and Alexander. Owen caught his breath, shakily getting to his feet. He couldn’t concentrate enough to reach the air.

“Yo,” Star greeted.

“The fallen god returns,” Alexander said with a strange, dripping malice in his voice.

“Yeah.” Star was trembling. Owen stepped forward once but Star held her paw out. “Rest up, buddy,” she said. “It’s my turn.”

“I can tell you’re shaking,” Alexander whispered, creeping forward. They were five feet apart. “A god’s will determines their power. If you’re already trembling with fear… you may as well—”

Alexander vanished in a flash of Radiant light. Or, that’s what Owen had picked up. But far outside his Perceive range, Alexander had cratered into the earth, leaving a meters-wide trail from the impact. His whole body was a spatter in the red dust.

Alexander slowly put himself together, a mixture of shock and confusion on his misshapen face.

“It’s not fear.”

Star vanished, leaving Owen behind, and pummeled the Hydreigon deeper into the earth. Above them both, a Shadow Sky brewed… and the sun’s rays struggled past dark clouds.

It was already noon.