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Finale Part 1 New

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
  8. meganium
  9. namo-rock
Finale ~ Part 1 -- One

She tapped her chin with a pencil, nervously deciding on one option over another. Agonizing over every word, every single circumstance, all down to a simple multiple-choice test. God, she hated tests. She’d been telling herself that for months now.

A gentle wind blew past her, fluffing up her fur. The breeze of a nearby lake carried the scent of petrichor and wet stone.

This was it. The final question. And that was probably the answer. Silently, she penciled in her choice, flipped the page over, and saw it was blank. She sighed.

“Finally,” she muttered. She fiddled with her claws, pensive, and then said to herself, “Then… let’s do one last review, I guess.”

And, after a few more days and a few minor corrections, she was satisfied with her answers.

“Alright. I’m done!” she called to the sky.

The rock her papers rested upon swallowed the test. She turned around to see a man wearing a tan brown suit smiling at her, offering a formal bow.

“Thank you for taking the OGC-I. Your results will be given to you in two weeks.”

“Thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably. “How’d my partner do?”

“He finished three days ago,” the man said. “Did you want him to pick you up?”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.”

Two weeks. That’s all she needed to wait. Then… maybe she could finally make a world of her own.


<><><>

The vortex of gold drained completely into the serpent atop the ruined stone spire. Left behind were dark clouds and a sunless sky. The sun didn’t matter anymore, did it? Because that serpent… it radiated more than just Shadows now. It had bits of everyone’s power. Shadows, Radiance, even divinity itself.

Owen had no idea how he was supposed to take that on. All he knew was that he was the only one who could try.

“Right.”

He tensed his wrist and flexed the fingers of his right hand. The Hand of Creation—the singular one he’d been able to grasp and keep from being stolen by the serpent in the sky—manifested fully. A javelin solidified in his palm, which he grasped as one end extended into a great, dynamic-length golden whip.

He still had the soul bullet. He saw it bobbing right near his palm. But… this, too, was not Alexander. It was something else.

Still. Just in case, he held onto it.

He dimmed his flame and beat his wings, ascending higher and higher, spiraling close to the base of the tower to avoid entering its peripherals.

Thankfully, despite its ethereal appearance, its body had some substance to it. Owen could Perceive it, even if he had no idea what those twitches or undulations could mean for its mood or intent. But at least it couldn’t hide from him or catch him off guard by leaving his view.

This was close enough. Owen brought his arm back and silently hurled the javelin side of his Hand forward. It flew silently, not even a whistle, but its golden glimmer must have caught the serpent’s attention. It ducked and rolled out of view.

Not good enough. Owen flicked his wrist, sending a wave down the javelin through the whip-end, and the javelin careened in a sharper arc into the tower. Still, it missed, striking the tower’s stone top instead.

Owen sent a pulse of energy through anyway. A flash of light ran down the Hand like an electric current. Golden energy shattered the top of the tower, its shrapnel cutting into the serpent’s body. Something bled from it and quickly closed up; when Owen flew around the tower to get a better look, he saw the last glimpses of golden motes of light returning to the serpent’s body.

“Just too slow, as always.”

Owen flinched. It could talk?

“Who are you?” Owen shouted. “You’re… you can’t be Alexander. He—”

“Shut up.”

The serpent opened its mouth. In the back of its maw, crackling black-and-white energy surged forth. Owen narrowly pulled a Protect in front of him, but the attack itself sent him flying back into Kilo Village’s ground level. Rocks and dirt covered him in a newly formed pit.

“You have lost the right to speak.” Its voice echoed even from on high. It permeated the world itself just like the song had.

Owen sensed a building that still had good enough structural integrity. He tried to search around for a Teleport, but he’d lost that essence. So much for that…

“Alexander, the ‘real’ one? Nothing but a husk at this point, but don’t worry. I’m already sending my tendrils into the Voidlands to gather him and those pathetic souls up. He is nothing…

“At this point, I am more ‘Alexander’ than he will every be!”


Owen groaned, finally climbing out of the pit, pushing heavy boulders out of the way. The blast had cut his scales. Thankfully, he healed quickly, wounds sewing themselves shut with threads of silver.

“Then, you’ve—”

“I said shut UP!”

Another blast rained down. The distance let Owen prepare, though he still flew out of the way and dodged the worst of the blast. A solid beam of black and white plasma—concentrated Chaos matter—left a fissure through the ground that Owen could not see or Perceive the bottom of. He could only see, distantly, the faint orange glow of magma at its depths. A glow that was getting brighter.

“Without me, you’ll have nobody to listen!” Owen taunted.

He had to buy time. How in the world was he supposed to tackle something like this?

And it worked. The serpent, closing its mouth, stopped the blast.

The deep, horrible grinding of stone on stone caught Owen’s attention.

“No…”

The serpent had struck Heart HQ. In that single blow, the red heart and symbol of Kilo’s accomplishments collapsed into the fissure; notebooks, depleted orbs, and unused technologies fell with its building into the planet’s molten insides.

“How easy it is to destroy so much progress,” the serpent said. “You didn’t defend it well at all. You weren’t prepared for a god. A TRUE god.”

Owen flew higher, trying to get to the same height. When he got too high, the serpent blasted just above him, forcing Owen to duck.

“You don’t deserve to stare at my level,” he stated.

Owen growled but allowed this. He tried to scan for weaknesses, but the serpent’s body was still changing. Morphing. What was he becoming?

First was the head, clad in gold crystals and two pupilless, rainbow eyes like shattered glass. The serpent had stolen Necrozma’s golden face. Trailing down from that body was some mixture of his neck and Alexander’s, splitting off into two arms that resembled a Hydreigon’s smaller heads, clad in brightened, purple Shadow essence.

In its chest was a swirl of Chaos energy enclosing a dark red core. Owen remembered this thing from his visions long ago—Diyem’s true form, the red eye in the dark void. Surrounding the cage that contained his true body was a crumbling, golden wheel—once Leph’s, now adorned by its new ruler. The serpent’s clawed feet and long tail trailed in a spiral.

Necrozma. Leph. Alexander. Diyem. A fusion of four essences…

But Owen had no Alloy to fall back on this time.

“The winner in all of this… will be Alexander. I’ll adopt that name. The old one, of course, has no use for it anymore.

“Tell me, failed Usurper. Do you think there’s any point in fighting out here?”


“You aren’t trying right now,” Owen said. “That means you don’t think it’s easy.”

The serpent snarled at that, but it was with a sick glee that flickered in his prismatic eyes. “I’m waiting to see you break,” he said. “Waiting for you to see that all you worked for was simply taken by the victor. All or nothing; all FOR nothing. What a wonderful gambit!”

He roared with laughter.

A few stars in the sky seemed abnormally bright. Brighter than usual.

“Oh, and don’t YOU think of trying anything!” he suddenly declared, pointing at the lights. “I know… what up to.”

Owen gasped. Overseers. Were they stepping in? But if that was the case…

“You think it’s a lost cause?” Owen whispered.

“You CAN’T kill me,” Alexander said, spreading his wings and arms wide. “Feel the spirits within me. Analyze their suffering. They are normal… they are just fine! I am just the new god after the old ones fell!”

He pointed at Owen.

“And this Usurper is threatening the new order!”

“What?!” Owen pointed his javelin at Alexander. “They saw everything! They aren’t going to let you be the new god, not when—”

“You don’t understand Overseers at all. But I have absorbed two of them. I know. And I know… that I am just fine.”

Owen flinched. That… didn’t make sense. The Overseers would stop Alexander if they could, right? He ran it through his mind. They saw him as a danger just as they’d seen Alexander as one because they were in danger of ruining the natural order of the world—one where Star and Barky managed it, maintained its flow of souls and suffering. Right?

But… they were both dead now.

“Turned out better than you expected, didn’t it?!” Alexander goaded. “The world under my command is fine. In the Voidlands, which the Usurper cast me into, I brought order from a world of purple ash! I built a city in a forest with no leaves! What has this Usurper done than merely climb out of his own mess?! Defy your rule to create a world of ruin that I then fixed!?”

Owen took in a shuddering breath. He didn’t dare make a move now. There was no way they would be convinced, right? He had to defend himself.

“It wasn’t just me,” Owen said. “I was speaking for all who still wanted to live! How can you fault mortals for wanting to survive?! How could I have known the extent of this darkness? Or how he”—Owen jabbed a finger in Alexander’s direction—“would have taken over that ruin? Look at his history!”

“Oh, please.” Alexander waved a wing dismissively.

“What he’s done! Who he’s killed and what he did to make that city of his!”

“You fool.” And then, suddenly, Alexander’s Chaotic body dimmed. The frazzled energy, like a raging inferno, instead settled into something closer to a gentle candle flame. His voice, while still booming, was unnervingly normal. “Subjugating dissent to maintain order is evil, sure… but it is not an Overseer matter. To them, I am maintaining order in a chaotic world. In the Voidlands, the suffering I caused… was minimal compared to the reality itself.

“And now?” Alexander spread his wings, displaying that dark core in his torso. “Now, all is well. I shall rule. And you shall fall.”

“No, that’s…” Owen’s wings drooped, only held up by his updraft. He wondered if he even deserved to be at that height. It was a flashing thought—was it Shadows, or…

“You have fought on the wrong side of history, Owen,” Alexander said. “Power means everything. And the Overseers hold the ultimate power over all worlds, but are bound by their own rules and regulations so they do not become tyrants themselves. And the rule is simple: If the souls do not suffer, if they have their freedoms in the cosmic sense, then they do not interfere.”

“But what you’re doing is wrong,” Owen said. “You—I know what you’re doing. You want all of this for control!”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Alexander said with a chuckle. “Don’t you get it? The Overseers don’t care about good or evil, those subjective little things that nature itself has no concept of. They only regulate trapped and suffering souls. Worlds too far gone. And this, now? I saved them.

“Will you disrupt the new order, Usurper? And earn the ire of the Overseers once more?” The metal of his face distorted into a gnarled smile. “Will you try again for another thousand years of suffering? All because of you? All for your… ‘hope’ of an ideal world that will NEVER exist?!”

Alexander pointed at Owen.

“Overseers! Strike him down, and end this nightmare FOREVER!”

<><><>​

Five stations—and a sixth destroyed—overlooked the ruins of Kilo. Each one held a pair of Overseers, all analyzing different things about the ruined world as they readied beams of great energy to annihilate it.

The Overseers had many methods to destroy a dying world. It was already weak and ready to collapse, so taking it out of its misery, so to speak, was a trivial matter.

Ho-Oh stood in the ruins of the sixth station. Miraidon, who had been eager to take out the world to free all the spirits within, had been retaliated against early. It was a warning from Kilo’s new god. But even that god, Ho-Oh suspected, could not stand up to five of them at once.

His wing ached. His beak was cracked. And, while he wasn’t sure, he was pretty sure he was dying from internal bleeding from divine wounds.

No matter. Death was an inconvenience to an Overseer. His time in this world wasn’t meant for much longer anyway.

More annoying was the prattling on of the other five stations that had created a group call to communicate their next plans as Kilo’s new god shouted at them.

“This guy is a total nutcase!” rumbled one of the Overseers. “He really thinks we’ll see all that, and then side with him?”

“That Charizard is the world’s last line of defense. He seems to hold just one of the divine catalysts of this world. If he loses that, it’s over.”

“Usurper against Usurper. Hmph, well, nobody wins, no matter who is the victor. Let’s destroy it before this gets worse.”


Ho-Oh couldn’t get his speakers to work. His camera was shot. The Overseers were gods of gods, but even they were subject to the limitations imposed upon them by the reality they visited. They had, with the help of this world’s Worldcore, conjured bodies and attached their celestial observatories to the outer shell of this tiny reality. But being in the world, being of material, meant the material could be destroyed.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?” Ho-Oh called.

“This is a complete mess,” said an Overseer, once again unaware of Ho-Oh.

“Ah, this must be camera button!”

“Aaaaagh!”

“Oh, come on!”

“Put that light down!”


Ho-Oh was blinded by the sudden appearance of a new camera on the feed. Completely white. Searing.

“Aha ha! Whoops! Guess it's one of those cameras. Lemme just... this button...” It disappeared, replaced by a generic icon.

Ho-Oh, still seeing stars in his eyes, clenched his beak. Well. Time to restart things, at least. He briefly shut off his connection and tried reestablishing everything. He glanced at Kilo’s readings. The feed still showed Dark Matter, usurped by Alexander’s disembodied will, pleading for the Overseers' favor. No doubt, he was using Necrozma and Hecto's absorbed insights to make such keen arguments.

Fortunately, Overseers were equipped with common sense.

At least, Ho-Oh hoped so.

“Ah! Hello?” Ho-Oh called upon seeing the connection return.

“Who is that?”

“Wait, that’s Station One! Are you alive?!”

“Unfortunately, just me. The other two might have been absorbed or lost to space. This is… Ho-Oh, currently. Id S-JS407.”


Ho-Oh brushed a feather over a sensor. Thankfully, it still worked, and a little green icon flashed on his screen.

The Overseers grunted or hummed in agreement.

“Glad you’re safe. Hopefully, we can find the others soon.”

“I wanted to speak up about your decisions regarding Kilo,” Ho-Oh said. “I think you should hold off on taking any action.”

“Hold off?!” One of the camera feeds took center screen, showing a gruff Nidoking and a Salazzle reading a book in the background. “I’m not letting that world spread! That thing’s a monster! We should wipe it all out, harvest the souls, powerless, and sort them out! Standard procedure for a failed—”

“It is not,” Ho-Oh said calmly, “failed.”

“This looks pretty failed!” Nidoking snarled. “And I’m not about to get absorbed into some world-eating catastrophe!”

“Right now, I am the expert on this realm,” Ho-Oh said. “And I say we’re acting too quickly. To annihilate them now would be a total violation of this world’s autonomy. We should focus on containment first while they sort themselves out.”

“Containment? They damaged a station! That’s far beyond what we can contain!”

“I agree. Things are too risky. That single drake is nothing compared to that corrupted amalgamation of all souls.”


Ho-Oh winced. He was glad his camera wasn’t working.

Ho-Oh wasn’t sure how to sway all the others after witnessing their station get destroyed. It had already called for backup automatically. Of course they would assume it was time to annihilate it all.

Maybe they were right. But… surely they couldn’t strike now. They at least needed to wait for Owen to distract Alexander for that to work. Maybe, from there, they would have a better idea of the situation.

“I like Ho-Oh's thinking.”

The voice came from the formerly blinding camera feed, now just an oscillating icon when he spoke.

“He’s got a better handle on this than us. And I bet that handle includes Owen having a plan.”

A plan…

That was right. He did have a plan.

“Even this,” Ho-Oh said, “was predicted as a worst-case scenario. Owen hasn’t yet put forward that final plan. If anything, we need to wait for that to play out. Once that happens, we can make the call. Annihilate, or let them sort themselves out.”

“I still don’t like this,” Nidoking growled. Several other Overseers nodded. “They’ve already met the necessary criteria to justify an expedited annihilation. We wait for a distraction and then strike.”

“C’mon, can’t we give him a chance?”
GL asked. “Pleeeease?”

“That… is that supposed to be your argument?”

“My camera’s off, but I'm doing puppy-dog eyes!”

“You can’t even—”
Nidoking sighed. “Whatever. We have to wait either way.”

“The new god is waiting for an answer from us,” Ho-Oh said. “I think that’s what his speech is implying. How do we tell them… to handle it themselves?”

The Overseers hummed thoughtfully, hemming and hawing.

Ring ring ring… ring ring ring…

“What is that?” Ho-Oh murmured.

“A telephone?”

“Telephones don’t sound like that…”

“Oh wow! An old-timey rotary phone! That stuff’s older than
me!”

“I… I think someone is trying to get into this call. But I’ve never heard—”

Ho-Oh’s breath hitched. The icon of the new caller…

“It’s the Top Overseer of this corner of the Overworld,” Ho-Oh said. “Oh, by all gods, what… would require them here?”

“Don’t make them wait!” Nidoking urged.

Someone quickly answered it. The icon was without a camera feed. The voice that followed was a little posh and high-pitched for Ho-Oh’s tastes, but nonetheless filled with gentle confidence.

“I heard from GL that there was a problem?”

“T-T-T-Top Overseer Xenon! Soooo good to see you.” Ho-Oh tittered. “We, ah, I’m sure you don’t remember me, we—”

“Oh, your tone is familiar! We can catch up later! This is urgent, yes?”

“Right! Right. Yes. Yes! Um. Where were we…”

“How do we tell the Usurper god and the Usurper Usurper we aren’t deciding for them?”

“Ahhh, such a classic tale.”
Xenon giggled and sighed like he’d been told their new crush found them cute. “I’ve looked over the reports of this place… and I took a moment to read everything new from your stations. I’ve seen something like this play out before—isn’t that right, GL?—but not quite… like this. Oh, how interesting to see it happen… I must stay for the answer.”

“Um, Xenon, w-with all due respect,”
Nidoking said, “we… need to do something, or they’ll enter a stalemate. They don’t want to make a move while we’re here, but we can’t leave them alone…”

“Ah, yes, of course. I’m so sorry. Well!”
The speaker clapped. “Think of it like you’re a neighbor. You have the window lights on and you’re peeking outside. How do you tell those in the street you want to let them resolve things without you?”

A beat. Then, a Baxcalibur suddenly spoke up. “Well, one way to give the impression you don’t want anything to do with something is to, well, turn out the lights. I guess for us, that’d be… turning off the camera feeds? That should dim the stars on the realm’s shell. Then, nobody would be ‘watching’ even if, you know, we have other sensors.”

“Shutting the windows.” Ho-Oh nodded. “That works.”

“Exactly!”

Ho-Oh faced the world of Kilo with an anxious sigh.

“Well,” he said. “Good luck.”

The light went out. Xenon giggled quietly before signing off.

<><><>​

Owen stood, breath held, as he awaited the worst. Alexander had put them into an impossible position. Owen knew Overseers had to maintain order. But now, Alexander was the new order. They were too late. What did that mean? Was he now the one to be stopped?

Alexander slowly turned to Owen, smirking. “Any last words?”

Owen clenched his claws around the last Hand of Creation not in Alexander’s possession. “I’ll fight them, too, if I have to,” Owen conceded. “Because this world is not yours. And the world you want to craft… has no right to exist.”

“Powerful words,” Alexander said. Such a shame that’s the most ‘power’ you’ll have.”

But then one of the Overseers’ stars flickered out. Closed like a window at night. And then another, and another, until only the tiny stars of the false sky lit up the night.

“What?”

Gone. The Overseers were no longer watching.

“They… abandoned this world?! Are they insane?!”

But while Alexander stared at the sky in befuddlement, Owen’s chest swelled with relief and hope.

“No,” he said. “I think you forgot just what it means when Overseers stand down, ‘Alexander.’ They’re always watching once they know a place like this exists.”

Alexander’s body crackled along its entire length, literally boiling with anger.

“It means, maybe for you or me”—it was for Owen—“that the Overseers trust this world to take care of itself. So, are you ready to fight me, New God of Kilo?”

“I am more than just its god. I am ALL of it, now! I AM Kilo!”

“Sure. Alexander or Kilo, which one do you want?”

Alexander simmered again. Something shone behind him—a shooting star. Owen chose not to acknowledge it.

“Fine. You’ve made your choice.” Alexander uncurled from the top of the tower, spreading his wings wide. “I will make sure that your spirit is kept in the very darkest depths of my new world. You will never know light again.”

Owen pointed the tip of his javelin Alexander’s way. He took in a slow, steady breath. Alexander was searching for an opening. Owen gave him none, keeping the rest of his stance defensive. The whip-end of his javelin circled him in a spiraling cage. Even with just one Hand, it was enough to fend away a direct attack… if he kept his guard completely up.

But as things stood… Owen wasn’t sure how to go on the offensive.

So, instead, he broke the stare down with a small exhale. “Alexander.”

“Stalling won’t get you anywhere.”

“Look behind you.”

A wave of Chaos energy rippled from Alexander’s head, down his faux spine, and back up to his head again. “Do you think I’m stu—”

A shooting star blasted through Alexander’s head, splitting it apart into countless threads of the Hands of Creation. Owen reached toward the shooting star and caught it with his chest, clutching it with his arms and wings.

It burned and probably broke a few ribs. While he recovered and his single Hand mended the wounds, he stared in disbelief at what he couldn’t believe his Perceive to see.

Eon. He was alive.

He wanted to say so much, even as Eon smiled up at him, laughing.

“I’ll explain later,” Eon said.

And that was fine.

“What’s going on here?” Eon asked.

“That thing absorbed everyone in Kilo. I think… I think they’re in that.” He pointed at the caged, red sphere in the center of the serpent’s abdomen.

Eon glanced at the sphere, then down at the blazing ruins of Kilo Village and all its surrounding fields. Then, he locked eyes with Owen, floating further away. Something warm glowed in the tattered bag around Owen’s shoulder. Barely anything in it was useful at this point, but as he dug through it…

Alexander’s head was mending itself back together.

Owen felt the marble Xerneas had given him. The Mega Stone. Probably best not to lose that. He considered his options and the chaos of battle. Owen dropped the bag into the blaze far below.

Then, he popped the Mega Stone into his mouth, swallowing it whole.

“…Really?” Eon squinted.

“If the Overseers aren’t interfering,” Owen started, “then the spirits within Alexander aren’t suffering. Instead, they must be… no, they can’t be inert. I think they’d take issue with that, too. So they must be… living somehow, not realizing they need to fight back. They might be trapped and have no idea.”

“Do you really think a cheap shot like that,” Alexander hissed, “will stop me?”

“I have to fight him out here,” Owen said. “Eon, find somewhere safe. If he sings, it’s over. I only have this one scarf. Didn’t think Ghrelle would be the one to…”

Owen didn’t even know how he’d created the first one. It’d been out of sheer improvised will…

Eon nodded slowly, his skepticism melting into resolve. “I understand what you’re getting at.”

“Wait—you do?” Because he sure didn’t.

“It’s like how we beat Star back at the lab,” Eon said.

The Jirachi pressed his forehead against Owen’s. Alexander was nearly fully formed, though it seemed his eyes were trying to piece themselves back together as a crystal structure.

“I wish I could say so much more,” he said, “but I’m sorry for that stupid play back with the Tree.”

Owen smirked. “Wouldn’t expect anything else. And… you’re about to do it again, aren’t you?”

Eon pushed away. He and Owen shared a smile. For a fleeting moment, it was like they were two thousand years younger. So much had changed since then.

Some things didn’t.

“I’ll do my best,” they both said.

The Mega Stone inside Owen’s body shattered, unleashing a swirl of prismatic energy throughout his flesh. His flame shifted to the black-and-white spark of Chaos. More fire erupted from the sides of his mouth. His scales blackened. But then, the lighter colors of his belly gained the rainbow sheen of the Mega Stone’s life energy. He could hardly contain the power—but he’d need every bit of it to go on the offensive.

This was it.

“What are you—uff!”

Eon had Teleported directly into that cage within the serpent’s torso. There, his body instantly dissolved, but the mote of light within swirled as a single speck of light. It did not go out.

“What did he do?! What are YOU planning?!”

“A way to beat you,” Owen said. “Same way we’ve beaten all the gods! You may want to be a tyrant… but if there’s just ONE person to resist you, you’ll never have that control!”

“One, against all of me! Owen, you idiot…”

He opened his mouth. Owen’s eyes widened—he’d gotten careless and lost his defensive stance. Alexander had been waiting for this. He haphazardly tried to evade instead, spiraling his single Hand around his body.

Ten arcing beams of light fell upon Owen on all sides. Energy. Something Owen normally couldn’t Perceive. But as Owen frantically beat his wings to gain distance—a pointless effort against someone with the whole world inside him—he realized something.

I see them?

They weren’t quite solid, but they weren’t invisible to his Perceive. Divine energy? Distortions in the wind? Owen didn’t have the time to figure it out, nor did he think it was important. All that mattered was that the blasts coming his way were clear as the night sky.

He twisted his body through the air, dodging nine of the ten blasts with ease. The final one was too hard to maneuver around and he brought his single Hand forward to clash against it. The force dislocated his shoulder and sent him spiraling down tens of feet.

Deafening booms rattled Owen’s head. Ethereal metal on metal. The pointed end of his whip stabbed into his shoulder; threads of gold pulled his arm back into place and healed it.

That attack…

It was massive. Just a glancing blow that he had to deflect was enough to nearly pull off his arm. But for something with nearly every Hand, and nearly every soul—the living and beyond—he had deflected it.

Not only that, but as he reached toward it, faint traces of that power seeped into Owen. He could Mimic this. He could Usurp this. Steal bits of that power back.

And Alexander—or was it Kilo itself?—had been bargaining with the Overseers. If he’d gained true control of that much power… someone with Alexander’s will would not have stooped to bargaining.

What was going on? By all accounts, Alexander should have vaporized Owen already. He’d only stood up to him symbolically, to maybe appeal to the Overseers to assist him. But instead, they turned away.

It wasn’t abandonment…

The Charizard breathed in slowly, Chaos flames escaping with every exhale.

Leph had demonstrated the opposite… and Owen, too, knew the secret of the Hands of Creation.

They weren’t “power.” Even just a single Hand was enough, with the right skill, to access all the world’s exploits, all of its latent power, all of the “reality-grasping” the Hands could do. More Hands meant less skill was needed for its power, but a single Hand and complete knowledge was just as good.

Owen was far from a true expert. He was not a native god. He was just a Charizard. Mostly.

Yet this god, this self-proclaimed Alexander, did not simply kill Owen where he stood. Even his silly little scarf had been enough to counteract a song that destroyed the world.

Before, Owen had faced Alexander on blind hope and raw stubbornness. Now, it paid off.

There was still a way out of this.

“You were saying?” Owen challenged.

Alexander stared, befuddled for only a moment. Then, his twisted metal jaws morphed into a cackling grin. His laughter was like a roaring fire doused with ice.

“So that’s how it will be?!” Alexander declared. “Fine! FINE! I accept your challenge, you eternal thorn in my side.

“I suppose even I can acknowledge, begrudgingly, that a meal tastes better when you have to work for it.”


This was ridiculous. This wasn’t Alexander or Nevren or any other foe he’d faced. He was… all of them, and none of them. And then some. Was this everyone? Everyone’s negativity, coated in a rotten wrapper that was Alexander’s tainted will?

“Give it up, Diyem! I… I know you’re not Alexander!” Owen shouted. “I know you can come back!”

“Oh, shout all you want, fool. But I am done denying the world’s truth! I, with nearly every Hand, and all the souls of the world, am already the writer of the new world!”

“Not until you take away mine.” Owen snarled. “They’ll wake up. And you will wake up with them!”

“Oh, prattle on, prattle ON!” Alexander spiraled skyward. Owen followed him, never letting Alexander get behind his position.

“This world can still be fixed! It’s not too late! Even if we have to start from zero all over again… we’re still here!

“And I say zero is enough!” Alexander said. “Go ahead, Owen, with your SINGLE shred of divinity. Fight the rules of the world that I now dictate! Which of us will win in this crumbling theater?

“Let’s see you beat the odds… OF ONE THOUSAND TO ONE!”


ChaosAlloySmallest.png

Owen vs. Kilo. Art by Chibi Pika

<><><>

Author’s Note: Special thanks to my beta readers, soliloquy, Ambyssin, and Sparkling Espeon as always, but a specific special thanks to Ambyssin for fine-tuning the dialogue of “GL” for his current and future appearances during the finale.
 
Finale 2 New

Namohysip

Dragon Enthusiast
Staff
Partners
  1. flygon
  2. charizard
  3. milotic
  4. zoroark-soda
  5. sceptile
  6. marowak
  7. jirachi
  8. meganium
  9. namo-rock
Finale ~ Part 2 – Ten

“Wow, uh… that’s a new look you’ve got there, buddy.”

A strange, four-legged, llama-thing stood before her. It had golden hooves, a strange, spiked ring around its torso, no mouth, and striking green-red eyes.

“It’s Arceus. And… it appeals to me.”

“So that’s what Arceus is supposed to look like…” She stared.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“How are you talking?”

“What?”

“You don’t got a mouth.”

“Don’t question this. We’re starting by making a world like the one we used to live in. We shall use it as a template.”

“Aww, a
template?!” She stomped her feet. “That’s so boring!”

“It’s practice. And… we didn’t score well enough to make something for ourselves. Not without intense scrutiny by the Overseers. We’re better off starting simple, with… a familiar world with familiar rules. One that has existed before, one we can modify slightly. And Arceus is the god of these kinds of realities; there are many like it. The Top Overseer of this realm said it would be a good fit.”

“…Fine. You
did score higher… Dumb two-month test. I scored fine! They couldn’t have cut it down to a month? Or at least a few break points in between?”

“We’ve had far worse tests.”

“Whatever.” She waved him off. “…Fine. If you get to be Arceus… I’ll be Mew.”

He stared at her with a hint of somber regret. “…I miss home, too, Star. But maybe we can make it again.”

Star made a small noise like a lizard’s chirp.

But Arceus looked sternly at her. “I’m not your Pokémon anymore, Star. We’ll have to… cast that aside from now on. That life was eons ago.”

“It’s still my first,” Star said quietly. “Can I still call you—”

“I am,” he said, “Arceus, now.”

They stared at each other in tense silence. Eventually, Star let her shoulders droop.

“Okay.”


<><><>

Eon awoke with a sharp gasp. Beneath his body was dirt and grass. Above him, beautiful clouds. The problem was the sky beyond: red like blood.

He sat up and floated a little higher, feeling strange and off. His head felt light. Something was tugging at his rear—what? A tail?

He had a—

He was a Mew again.

Eon looked himself over, pinching his pink skin and inspecting his fine, fine fur. He looked left and right for any sign of a person.

A simple dirt road. To the left was a hillside with the entrance to a cave within. To the right was a great pale green field and, further along, a forest of bushy trees.

Hot Spot’s exterior, before the cave had blown up from Dark Matter’s attack.

And that meant Kilo Village was nearby, right?

Eyes following the path, Eon flew higher, as far as his levitation off the earth would allow for such bursts of speed.

Up ahead, a strange spire of darkness pierced a ring of gray clouds. The sky reddened with a crimson mist. Various colorful shapes—Pokémon of all kinds—milled about around it in a large city dotted with geometric, obsidian buildings and glimmering yellow lights.

That wasn’t Kilo Village at all!

The closer Eon flew, the more details came into view. The yellow lights were indeed for windows, though Eon wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Cipher City? But on the surface? All the Pokémon seemed to be walking leisurely, a few flying away from the city, while others were heading to the central pillar—a great, black spire with a strange black-and-white energy forming at the tip.

It was some great weapon charging up… That orb of energy was already the size of a large Pokémon, and it was growing.

Not wanting to be detected, Eon dipped to a lower altitude and searched for a Waypoint. Did those still exist?

Yes! There was one just ahead at the end of the road.

“Okay. Okay, but what now?” he murmured. “I can’t be a Mew. That would draw a lot of attention… Oh, great, talking to myself again, gotta stop that…”

He scratched his head with both tiny paws, trying to massage his brain through his skull like it would help him think. Blend in, blend in. He could probably act like someone he knew, or transform into an entirely new person, but was he good at acting anymore?

Admittedly, the whole ‘transform into people he thought of’ thing was a long-ingrained habit at this point. Eon had forgotten how to do it voluntarily. But as he thought about people, his reflexes to ground himself or prepare for a sudden shift in center of gravity only made him wobble in the air. He had control over it again.

Perhaps this little ‘reset’ within the new world also restored the damage to his transformation ability…

And now he had choice paralysis. Great.

Eon crossed his little arms, pinching and appreciating his mortal-Mew skin again after so many years. Who to be, who to be…

There was only one person he could safely replace without risking an encounter with that same person that might cause a scene. All things considered, that was probably also the best person to get some sway from within. If Owen was fighting outside… Owen also had to fight inside.

Time to be Deca, one last time.

Eon focused. His pink skin and fine fur hardened into orange and cream scales. His tail thickened and shortened; his feet and claws became sharper and reptilian. His face shifted as he quickly adjusted to his new jaws, tongue, and teeth. Tentatively, he took a few bites of the air, spat a few flames, swished his tail, and popped a few joints that felt like they’d Transformed a little oddly.

Reflexively, he searched for a blindfold… but he didn’t need one anymore. Something about that made him sad; he didn’t know why.

If need be, he’d shift his form again. Jirachi, Charizard, maybe even Mew again. He had options.

Exhaling through his nose, Eon stepped onto the Waypoint and vanished for the corrupted Kilo Village.

<><><>​

Life in Cipher Village was mundane for Mu. Every day, she left Hot Spot Cave with her parents happily cheering her on for another good day as a Heart. She’d walk down the path, step on the Waypoint, and appear in front of the central spire of the city.

Obsidian buildings dotted the streets in the cardinal directions while a relaxing red and purple sky, as it always was, lit the world around her. The flame on her tail, perfectly orange and yellow, provided some extra light that reminded her of something nostalgic yet foreign.

She exhaled, content. Her morning was strange, filled with odd dreams and a strange, urgent sensation that she still couldn’t shake away. Still, once she was in the village, everything felt normal again. She could go about her day as normal.

The Charmander marched down the road toward a big, black heart on the southern side of town. There, after climbing the stairs and weaving past many larger Pokémon, she hopped on a miniature stairway that allowed her to get closer to eye-level with the bulletin board.

Unfortunately, there were very few jobs left to take. Mu sighed. “Another fuel day,” she said plainly.

“Aww, yer kidding!”

Down below, a Trapinch, Axew, and Chikorita overheard Mu’s mumblings. All three were looking up at her.

“Oi, maybe yer eyes ain’t right!” Trapinch said.

“They are!” Mu growled back. “Bulletin board’s empty! All that’s left are dumb jobs in the forest for lost items and stuff; who cares about those?!”

“W-well, items can be important,” Axew said, poking his claws together.

Chikorita, standing between both Axew and Trapinch, puffed out a sigh and nodded.

“Who are you guys, anyway?” Mu asked.

“Gahi,” Trapinch introduced himself. “Fastest Trapinch in th’ world!”

“Not a high bar, Gahi,” Axew said. “My name’s Demitri. And this is Mispy—she has trouble talking, but she’s our leader!”

“How does she lead if she can’t talk?”

“She’s the smartest,” they both explained.

Made sense.

“I think all we have is refueling,” Mu said simply. “Unless something comes up, that’s all we’ll be doing.”

“Aww…” Demitri’s shoulders sagged. “Okay…”

“Hey, it’s not so bad! How about we, uh, just all do it together?” Mu asked. “It’ll be less boring that way.”

“May’s well. Let’s find a fuel room.”

Mu hopped off the elevated platform and stepped outside, weaving past a Tyranitar’s thigh that dwarfed her. On her way out, a black-slime Goodra caught her attention.

“Whoa…” It was Diyem—the leader of the Black Hearts. His dark slime made his whole body look more like tar than the normal purple of a Goodra; the only thing bright about him was the lavender, heart-shaped marking on his chest that had inspired the building’s shape.

Now that Mu thought about it, the building’s aesthetic didn’t meld well with the rest of the town… and that Goodra was…

“Hey!” Gahi headbutted Mu on the side.

“Gah! Really?!”

“Yer holdin’ us up!”

Mu stared at the dark Goodra, who in turn noticed her. She quickly turned away and went down the stairs to the main street.

“What, holdin’ out fer some new mission?” Gahi said, clicking his jaws.

Demitri picked at his tusks until Mispy pulled his hand away with a vine.

“Um, well, it would’ve been nice,” Demitri said, feebly defending Mu.

Mu glanced behind her. She felt like something was wrong. And, indeed, her suspicions were correct: Goodra Diyem was staring at her from the top of the stairs.

Quickening her pace, the Charmander cleared her throat and marched into the nearest crowd, hiding behind the thighs of a passing Nidoking.

Occasionally, when she looked back, she could still see the Goodra staring from the top of the stairs. Was it at her? Something else?

She eventually found herself running with no idea why.

“Hey, hey!” Gahi shouted, catching up to her just before being stomped on by a nearby Luxray, who offered a halfhearted apology. He wriggled back and continued trotting.

“What?” Mu growled as Gahi waddled to her at alarming speeds.

“What, what? What you!”

Demitri and Mispy struggled to weave past the crowd. What was it, rush hour? All the people were giving Mu a headache; she couldn’t tell limb from limb. This place was so packed.

“I—let’s just go in, alright?” Mu said hastily.

When Mu looked around, she saw that one of the buildings had “Fuel Station” on its signpost. After diving between the legs of a passing Infernape and then sidestepping a group of Igglybuff, Mu scaled the stairs and raised a hand. “One group room, please!”

The bored-looking Simisage on the other side of the counter stared at her, then at the incoming Trapinch, Axew, and Chikorita behind her.

“Sure.” She tossed a pass card from behind the desk. Mu hastily caught it, read the number, and headed for the stairs.

“Third floor,” Mu told them.

Demitri groaned.

Thankfully, the stairs were less cramped. The only hard part was climbing them when they were so small.

“Mu?”

Mu froze. A suffocating sense of familiarity suddenly hit her. She felt like she was falling out of her own body. An instant later, she caught her breath and landed back within herself, spinning around.

It was a Milotic with scales that reflected the ambient light of the hallway like a rainbow. She was somehow brighter than everything else.

She knew her name without introductions. “Zena,” she whispered. But the word felt foreign on her tongue. She didn’t usually call her that, did she?

Despite having never met her, Mu trusted this Milotic with her life.

Mu marched up to her. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “Who are you? What… what’s going on here?”

“I’m Zena,” Milotic said, her voice smooth and deep.

It reminded Mu of the ocean. As a Charmander, she should’ve been afraid, yet all she wanted to do was cry and ask if everything would be okay.

“Oi, oi!” Gahi shouted. “Let’s get inside already!” He tapped his big, orange head against the door.

“Oh, are you refueling?” Zena asked.

Mu nodded.

“I’m sure there’s room for me,” she said. “Let’s all go.”

Mu looked at the other three for approval. They seemed transfixed by Zena, briefly, before coming to their senses.

Mispy nodded. She brought a vine to a button next to the obsidian-black door, which slid open.

Inside was a bare room with a large sigil and geometric shapes scattered around the middle. Smaller, less complicated sigils connected to it on all sides of the room. There were six in total, enough for all of them, so they headed inside.

Routinely, they sat in one of the six outer sigils, and Zena pressed a ribbon to close the door.

Mu was still paranoid. She took the sigil closest to the window that overlooked the streets. Thankfully, they were very low windows, even for someone of her stature.

“I’m turning it on now,” Zena said.

“Okay,” the others replied.

After pressing one more button, the whole room shifted to a deep, red color. A low, droning rumble filled the room and drowned out their breathing, their words, even Mu’s thoughts.

It was harder to breathe. The sigils on the ground lit up as lights flowed from them into the main sigil beneath. That energy funneled… elsewhere. Helped power the city, or something. Mu didn’t understand. Paid well, though.

Even if it didn’t feel right. Mu quietly channeled her power into it, but occasionally, playfully toyed with its flux, which caused the lights to flicker.

She noticed that the others were doing the same.

“Oh, you guys play with your energy, too?” Mu asked.

“Yeah, kinda feels weird not to,” Demitri said. “Like… I don’t know.”

“Huh. Yeah, so do I,” Gahi said, clicking his jaws. “Weird…”

Silence. Muddled thoughts buzzed in Mu’s head, briefly surfacing past the rumbling drone of the room.

“You guys give out a lot of energy,” Mu remarked, noticing how bright their lines were. “Hey, what if we did a flux all at once? That’d be pretty funny, right?”

Zena tilted her head. “I… suppose so. Sure.”

Mu’s heart fluttered. Some inner part of her was telling her… she had to do this. Was someone telling her to? She couldn’t hear it, yet she felt like someone was calling her.

“Okay, follow my lead.”

Something was driving her to do this. Something told the others to do the same. Why? None of this felt right…

But as the lights rippled in darkening and brightening waves, the whole room’s light flickered the same way. Darker and brighter. Outside, in another building across the street, other windows were lighting up the same way.

“Hey, let’s follow that rhythm,” Mu said. “Looks like other souls are doing the same—”

—break the flow! Can you hear me?!—

Mu’s blood turned to ice. For a fleeting moment, she knew something. She knew something devastating. And it was gone. She couldn’t remember what.

“Owen,” Zena whispered.

“Huh?” When Mu turned, she saw tears already falling from Zena’s face.

The Milotic cleared her throat, wiping her eyes with her ribbons. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

“I felt it, too,” Demitri said, holding his chest. His eyes were grave. “It was like… something really important was happening and I’m forgetting all about it.”

Mispy, too, was troubled. Even Gahi, boisterous as he was, clenched his great jaws.

Boom!

Something black darkened the world outside. As Mu turned to face the window, a shooting star flew past the glass, startling her enough to fall out of her sigil. The lights dimmed completely.

“What was that?!”

“It looked like a yellow… star thing!” Demitri struggled to a sitting position after falling on his back.

All of them went up to the window.

The great, central spire had suddenly been struck by something. Mu didn’t know what. When Mu searched for the yellow star, she saw nothing of the sort. Instead, it was a Charizard flying through the air, which caught even more of her attention. She pressed her cheek against the glass like it would help her see outside.

“Dad?” Mu whispered.

Wait. That made no sense. She was adopted; she didn’t know her parents…

But down below was something more alarming. Walking down the street, staring directly at her, was the same dark Goodra that ran the place. Diyem. And when they made eye contact, he walked again toward the entrance of the building.

He was coming. She didn’t want that. She didn’t know why, but she had to follow her instincts.

“We have to get out of here,” Mu suddenly said.

“Huh? But I thought we were doing silly stuff with the building!” Demitri said. “Why don’t we mess with it a little more?”

“Why?” Mispy suddenly asked. Her tone wasn’t accusatory or exasperated. Instead, Mu sensed that Mispy was just as analytical as Mu was trying to be.

“Why,” Zena repeated. “This is all strange. But I agree. I… want to disrupt this building somehow. I feel like that’s what I should be doing, somewhere… deep down. Isn’t it strange? We’ve… been doing this all our lives, haven’t we? It was how things were. Right?”

Mispy looked at the sigils again, brow intensely furrowed.

It finally clicked, yet the realization was like cold water injected directly into her chest. “No,” Mu whispered. “It… it isn’t. That… doesn’t feel right… Why…”

Mu lost her balance when the ground rumbled. Zena, nearby, caught Mu with a ribbon.

“What was that?” Demitri whimpered.

“Diyem’s after me,” Mu said. “Or… or he’s after someone else?”

Can’t do anything, fool! Fall—

Mu saw a Charizard with black and prismatic scales weaving between spires of light. Wounds covered his form, each one from a glancing blow.

And then the vision was gone.

When Mu had returned to her senses, everyone else had a firmer look in their eyes.

“That Charizard with the rainbow belly,” Demitri said. “We know him.”

“Same,” Mu said. “Zena?”

The Milotic nodded. “He’s… he’s someone important to me. How could I forget? How did I forget? I don’t know… what relation we had, but…”

Mispy trotted to the window, smushing her face against the glass wall. Not sure what it was for, Mu tried the same. Then Zena. Demitri toyed with his horns and awkwardly stood nearby, while Gahi grunted in pain when his exoskeleton struck the glass.

“Him,” Mispy said.

Flying through the sky was a Charizard—normal colors, yet ever so familiar. He was roaring something at the civilians below but the glass was soundproof.

The ground rumbled again. Fights were breaking out. What was going on? Unrest everywhere—in the streets, Pokémon were emerging from buildings looking dazed and agitated. Lights in the building were dimming. The great obsidian spire in the middle of Kilo was losing some of its dotted lights.

“Let’s get outta here,” Gahi said. “I wanna talk ter that Charizard. He’s too familiar.”

“We can’t go down, though,” Mu said. “That—that Goodra, I don’t think we should get close to him. If he goes, he might… do something—bad? I don’t—I don’t know, but it’s—it’s vibes, it’s just vibes, okay?”

“Vibes?” Demitri asked. “I think I understand, but…”

Zena, meanwhile, channeled water throughout her body. The sheer power behind it warped the light around her; an updraft lifted her ribbons. Gahi, on instinct, nervously stepped back until he pinned himself against the wall.

Then, the Milotic blasted the window with a beam of water as thick as her head. The deluge quickly flooded the floor, up to Mu’s ankles, then her thighs, and soon she was treading water and hoping it wouldn’t sting too badly when it reached the flame of her tail.

“Zena, harder!” Mu shouted.

The glass cracked but didn’t break.

“Hold your breaths!” Demitri cried as the ceiling got closer.

Gahi gurgled frantically. Mispy wrapped vines around his body and lifted him higher.

The window cracked more. The door into the room creaked.

Mu felt Mispy’s vines around her chest next. She was trying to grab everyone and then grasped Zena’s tail for leverage.

As it turned out, it indeed stung. Her flame went out, emitting copious clouds of steam instead, as the water shock nearly forced her to gasp. She squeezed her eyes shut and endured the pain…

Underwater, every sound was muffled and loud. The crack had crossed the whole window pane. The pressure was soon going to overwhelm it, but then…

The door opened. The current pulled all of them back; Mispy’s vines squeezed her tight. Mu hoped her insides would stay there. Though her guts held in place, Mu was losing confidence in Mispy’s vines against the water’s current. And at the doorway, taking the full deluge of water, was a Goodra radiating a dark aura.

He really IS after me!

Mu tried to scream only for bubbles to emerge. That was enough; the others recognized the dire situation, even as the Goodra marched inside, the massive current having no effect on him.

When the water was low enough that Mu could touch the ground, Diyem loomed over her. His expression was like stone. No emotion at all, yet completely, utterly focused on the little Charmander before him.

He reached forward. The others were still gathering their bearings. Diyem’s slimy grabber was inches from her face… when the strange, light, heart-shaped mark on his chest brightened.

Diyem froze.

For what felt like an eternity, Mu dared not take a breath, and Diyem did not advance an inch closer.

“NO!” Zena cried.

She spat a beam of water so intense it slid Diyem backward a few feet.

Then, she slammed her head against the glass. The cracks grew wider; the window bent outward.

Zena slammed her head into the glass again. Shards cut into her scales. Blood—a strange, pastel rainbow as Mu knew blood to be—trickled down her forehead. Her coils rolled up as if to spring herself forward.

Diyem approached them again, once again reaching toward Mu. This time, the heart in his chest had dimmed. He showed no hesitation.

Zena slammed a third time. And, finally, the window gave way. Her body’s momentum carried her, slicing parts of her body on the way out. Mispy, still holding on, carried the rest of them out at once. Mu knocked her head against the glass with a sharp crack!

Something must have hit Mispy, too, as they all went tumbling down. The last thing Mu saw through tunneling vision was a Charizard flying toward her from above.

<><><>​

CRASH!

Owen was missing most of his right shoulder. Several stones stabbed into his back and out of his belly. In front of him, a meters-wide and even longer fissure lay where he’d been blasted into the ground from a grazing blow.

He dug his claws into the dirt and tried to channel his Grass energy, but that part of him had been stripped away. Instead, he had to roll and try to find a place to hide: any possible way to regain his footing. Stoles jutted from his back and front as divine tendrils of his single Hand’s filaments pushed them out to sew his body shut. His scarf couldn’t heal fast enough; even more energy was needed.

Golden light replaced the flesh and bones of his shoulder for now. He staggered to his feet, holding it with his good hand, and stared skyward.

“Give up! It will be so much easier!” Kilo roared. It was the name Owen had chosen for the thing. He was not Dark Matter. But he was not quite anyone else, either. And he refused to give that thing Alexander’s name… even if he carried his will the same way.

He’d tried calling out to the souls inside. Tried gaining any form of resonance. As far as Owen could tell, there was no response. Had Eon failed?

“Oh, what am I saying?” Kilo said in a singsong way. “It’s always fun when my catch fights back.”

The sky twisted with equal parts black and white, jagged, and fuzzy lines of static. That was the sign of another attack. Exhausted, at his limit, Owen saw the incoming lines and rolled out of the way. He kicked off the ground and beat his wings, narrowly dodging the rest of the volley.

Below him, even more of the world’s former earth lay in ruins. Buildings reclaimed by the earth had turned into a frozen sea of mud and dust. The Chaotic energy burrowed deep and dug out magma and dirt alike, churning what had once been a stable, tiny planet into a messy blend of insides and outsides.

Some holes had gone directly down, perhaps to the very core of the world, while others were interrupted by the sturdy roots of the ever-encompassing Tree of Life. Even now, Kilo avoided destroying that. Perhaps its destruction was too much, or something was holding it back. Owen didn’t have the time or energy to think deeper than that.

Another volley was coming. This one was slower, carving lines across formerly beautiful fields and crossing a river of water, instantly turning it into an explosion of steam. Owen felt the heat even where he stood; superheated water would hurt, even with his new Dragon element.

He had to think. As Owen weaved between these slower attacks—always wary of cheap shots—he used the steam to obscure his presence. He kept his power low, refused to let his aura flare, so Kilo wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Another volley rained down. Owen didn’t have to move at all—wide shots, scattered and wholly inaccurate. And… weaker?

There was no way that was all of Kilo’s power. Owen expected more. Yet as they rained down, the explosions—while earth-shattering—were softer. Rather than hundreds of volleys, Owen only counted ten or so, yet with even less accuracy.

Owen dared to creep past the rubble of some destroyed, molten rocks, brown, ashen dirt, and fallen, splintered trees. The scent of ash and rot filled his nose with every advancing plume of smoke. That same grime tarnished his body, yet the prismatic light of life shined past it.

Kilo’s body pulsated and crackled, solar flares bursting from and reentering his body. The core of his body—Dark Matter’s cage within his torso—pulsed and flickered like a dying Luminous Orb.

Owen clutched his single Hand of Creation.

Now was the time to fight.

<><><>​

“Everyone, you need to fight back!” Eon shouted. “Wake up! None of this is real, none of this is how things are!”

He spread his wings, carrying Owen’s voice and likeness, as his orange flame nearly dwarfed Mu’s unconscious body in his arms. He held her gently, hoping she would wake up, as a crowd gathered around the main square of this mockery of Kilo Village.

“Don’t—don’t you recognize me?!” Eon shouted.

He recognized them. So many of them. He saw a Riolu standing atop a Drampa, and behind him was an Oshawott and Cacnea. An old team of a time long gone, led by Manny.

He saw Team Alloy, of course, with Mu replacing Owen in this strange reality.

He even saw a Treecko standing alongside a Sceptile. The Sceptile crouched down. “What do you think, Mom?”

The Treecko hummed, arms crossed. “He does seem awfully familiar,” she admitted. “What is your name? You… I know you.” She held her chest, perhaps without realizing it.

Eon opened his mouth awkwardly. “Err, I’m—”

“This disturbance will stop.”

A Goodra shouted from the top of a building—the same one Zena had burst from. He jumped out the broken window and landed with a heavy, wet THUD. The crater he left behind was three times his width, and the earthquake itself knocked nearby Pokémon off their feet.

“H-Heart of Hearts Diyem,” greeted Zena. “We… were…”

“All of you. Return to your refueling stations. The world relies on your power. Have you forgotten?”

“I think it’s everything else that they’ve forgotten,” Eon said, standing firm. He spread his arms and wings to address the crowd. “Doesn’t everyone here seem familiar to you? Don’t you remember being stronger, being—”

Eon sidestepped just in time to dodge a humming beam of darkness thrown by Diyem. The Goodra’s claws dripped with Shadows.

“Just stay put,” Diyem hissed. For once, his stonelike expression showed a few cracks of desperation. “This disturbance… will ruin everything again. Don’t you understand?”

What? Was Diyem speaking in code? The way he was phrasing that, his intonation…

Diyem unconsciously brought a hand to his chest, tracing the heart-shaped mark. “…This is how things are now. Accept it. Or else.”

“Or else,” Eon repeated with an exhale. It didn’t sound like a threat from Diyem. He was warning about something. He was afraid of something. But what?

The rest of the crowd seemed conflicted. Confused. Some of them looked at one another. Many had their eyes on Eon to say something. Several more were curious about Diyem.

Diyem spoke with slightly more urgency. “Don’t—”

The great, obsidian spire vibrated behind them. All of the lights that dotted the landmark suddenly dimmed.

“What?” Eon whispered.

Then, from where each bit of light had been, spears of a strange, dark substance jutted out into pointed tendrils. Eon was just deft enough to dodge one that was about to jab into his chest, but several other Pokémon were less fortunate. The tendrils pierced straight through them and then split apart like hooked barbs, tugging their bodies against the spire.

Heads cracked and bones broke unceremoniously against the stone pillar. They wailed as light drained from their bodies and into the black pillar. Shadows crept through their veins and rotted their bodies, yet it was not quite enough to kill them. They continued to scream.

“What is this?!” Eon cried.

Team Alloy, Zena, and many that Eon knew were faster. They dodged, deflected, or even resisted the piercing blow. It had even gone for Diyem, who parried the tendril with a black Protect swirling with gold. The heart on his chest brightened.

“Look at what you’ve done,” Diyem hissed, sprinting away and urging with his arm for Eon to follow.

At first, Eon wanted to stay behind to help the Pokémon caught. Their cries overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from one to the next, each one bleeding strange, pastel fluid from their wounds that siphoned into the black tower.

“Now, NOW!” Diyem roared.

Eon took a few more steps back. Two black spears, one left and one right, reared up at him. “No—” Eon held up his wings as a shield uselessly.

Green arrows deflected the spears, breaking them in several places.

“Come!” called a canine dappled in black and green hexagons. Behind him were three just like him.

“Hecto! You’re—”

But he already ran. Realizing now was not the time to talk, Eon flew after them. “I’m sorry!” he cried back to the Pokémon still being drained on the pillar. “We’ll think of something! H-hang in there!”

Useless words. This wasn’t working. What were they supposed to do? He only hoped Hecto would provide some answers…

This strange, twisted world was all some inner fabrication. None of this was supposed to be, and yet the people in it, what they suffered, were very real. It was representing something else. Eon just needed to figure out what really mattered in its conjured symbolism.

<><><>​

“Still resisting… still fighting…”

Owen rolled out of the way of another downpour of light. He didn’t know who Kilo was speaking to at this point.

“Everything always has to be so pointlessly complicated. Everyone needs their own little will, their own little needs, when it all would be so much easier if they followed their routine. MY routine. MY orders. Yet upstarts like you… are a plague…”

He wasn’t paying attention. This was his chance!

Down below, ash and smoke obscured much of the world. There was probably no life remaining there, save for… well, he wasn’t sure if Jerry would have survived this kind of onslaught, though he hoped for the best.

This was as close as Owen had managed to get. Within Kilo’s core, beyond that strange, spiraling cage that covered the eye of a great red storm, little golden flecks of light drifted around a vertical pupil of darkness. And from that pupil, filaments of darkness latched onto several of those lights, pulling them in.

Before Owen could get a better look, another volley fired at him from above and ahead. Owen dodged it easily, even regaining more stamina than he was losing at the rate Kilo fired.

Was this his best shot?

Owen’s fist clenched around his single Hand of Creation. Within it, the soul bullet still pulsed. He’d never seen it do that before.

It was resonating. That had to be it. It… was tied to Alexander’s emotions. His personality. Yes! This… It was exactly as Kilo had said. He was ‘more Alexander’ than the real Alexander would ever be.

Another volley came. One grazed his cheek, sizzling the scales into molten carbon. Threads of gold stitched his face back together. The claw on his necklace tapped his chest with the wind.

Now or never.

Owen swung his arm back. He aimed the spear at Kilo’s torso, just above the cage around the storm. The remainder of the javelin’s whip wrapped around his arm.

And he hurled it as hard as he could. Unerring, the javelin self-corrected its flight, homing in on its target—

“Child’s play.”

A portal appeared in front of the javelin. It passed through.

Owen couldn’t react in time. Something punched him through the back.

Sticking out of his chest was that same javelin. The soul bullet sizzled within, ready to burst.

And for a moment, Owen heard the cries of countless spirits inside Kilo’s body.
 
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