Death of Innocence: Nightmare
Joshthewriter
Charizard Fan
Welcome to Salvation! This is a work that has been a labour of love since my teenage years. What you see here is the latest iteration of the story. It's a Conquest AU, something that seems like it should be amazing. Please drop a review and let me know what you think of this! Anything is appreciated, from little blurbs to page long deconstructions!
I was initially interested in the idea of this fic after playing Pokemon Conquest. However, I don't really think that the game did the idea justice. Pokemon fits very well into a fantasy story and this is the result of that idea. They just work perfectly because they are fantasy creatures.
This is a story set in the medieval era. It is very much a fantasy epic. There will be death, and violence, and probably sex. Please be warned before you begin. There probably won't be any lemons, but that ain't my cup of tea anyways.
So without further ado, enjoy Salvation!
The sun hung lazily over the peaks, casting jagged shadows across the ruined and shattered plateau. The ancient city that lay nestled into the mountainside burned in agony, smouldering fires spewing acrid black smoke into the pristine mountain air. A ball of flame launched from one of the siege engines surrounding the city. It slammed into a watchtower, reducing it to a pile of burning rubble. Azure flames ripped through the cobblestone streets, torching homes and storefronts with impunity. The few men who still dared defy their fate manned the walls of the citadel, determined to defend their queen until the last.
A lone dragon soared above the city, her rider peering down at the chaos unfolding below. A dark cape flapped out behind him, billowing in the gale that whipped over the peaks. He shivered slightly, the cold biting down to his core. He shrugged off the discomfort, ignoring the shudder that ran through his body. He bore the blood of the dragon, and dragons did not show weakness.
Lance couldn't help but grin as the pride of Johto's oppressor burned at his hand. Dragons ran rampant through the ancient streets of the Indigo Plateau, savaging the few men that hadn't managed to retreat to the citadel. A grim smile crossed his face as the column of men marching through the city ground to a halt at the iron-wrought gates of the citadel. A pair of ballistae bolts sailed from the battlements, skewering the shield wall and shattering the formation. Now the battle would truly begin, and Lance was going to enjoy it.
A cloaked spectre emerged from his shadows, wreathed in darkness. It tipped its head in a polite nod and opened its cloak as it chanted in an arcane language. Darkness streamed out of the open cloak, taking the form of a man's head. A dirty mop of blond hair emerged, tendrils of smoky shadows streaming off the man's pale white skin. "My King, I have failed you, " he said. "Agatha has summoned her wraiths. She has broken my seal on the city."
"You have not failed, Morty, " Lance replied, his powerful voice carrying above the din of battle. "She is a powerful medium with centuries of experience. She will not give up her crown without a fight."
The sky seemed to darken as he spoke, clouds turning black as they gathered over the city. The peaceful sunset disappeared, swallowed up by the menacing clouds that formed at unnatural speeds. A savage grin loomed large above the city, malevolent intent radiating from the ancient gengar's formless smile as it appeared in the shadows cast by the clouds.
"Protect the army, " Lance ordered, not even sparing a glance for Morty. He knew that the medium would follow his orders without question. The man had never questioned him before and Lance doubted that he would start now. "I will handle her."
He felt Morty's presence disappear and spared a glance at his dissolving form. The mismagius winked at him knowingly as it dissolved into the void. He turned his attention back towards Agatha's prized gengar, an inhuman fire burning behind his eyes. He leaned in towards his dragonite's ears, his voice rippling with draconic power. "Come now, Betherian. Let us end this war."
His dragon tossed back her head, roaring a challenge to the wraith that waited above them. She flapped her powerful wings twice, drawing even with the wispy shadow as she soared past it. She roared again, azure flames streaming from her maw as she banked hard and swooped around the gengar.
Agatha hung in the air behind her ghost, her body wrapped in a layer of smoky darkness. Her long grey hair blew wildly in the spectral winds that whipped angrily around the Ghost Queen. The dragonfire flew back at the dragon and her tamer, repelled by the ghostly winds that tore through the atmosphere.
Lance raised his cape, shielding himself with the material as a storm of dragonfire washed over him. He lowered the smoking cape, glaring at the Ghost Queen. She hung in the same place as before, a grin crossing her face. She crossed her arms, looking at him with an unimpressed stare.
"I had expected more, " she said coldly, her voice carrying on the wind. It was cold and quiet, barely more than a whisper that seemed to come from just behind Lance's head. "Attempting to separate me from my pets was clever. However, it was ultimately futile. You will die just the same."
The orange dragon swooped in, abandoning her ranged attacks. She raked an outstretched claw through the gengar's immaterial form. Betherian roared as she tore through the gaseous ghost, purple mist slipping through her claws unharmed.
The gengar cackled madly, reforming behind the dragon and her tamer. It dove into Lance from behind, driving its ghostly claws into his back. It sank into his body, a quick attempt to possess the would-be usurper. Lance drew in a sharp breath, steeling his mind for a mental assault. Waves of nightmares crashed into his mental barriers, nearly overwhelming him. Violent images of rotting corpses and broken dragons dragged their shattered forms towards the tamer.
The nightmares faded for a moment, and Lance struck back with all the force his battered mind could muster. The gengar screeched in pain as he expelled it from his body, forcing it to manifest in front of Betherian. The dragonite's waiting maw slammed shut on the gengar's midsection, bisecting the ghost with ease. Inky black blood poured out over Betherian's jaws, staining her brilliant orange scales a dark purple. She shook her head viciously, tearing the wraith to pieces as Lance again pulled his cape up over his face. The acidic blood splashed against his cape, burning his skin where it seeped through the fabric.
His victory was short lived. Agatha leapt into action, grabbing him by his cape with a pale and bony arm. She tore him from the back of his dragon, throwing him into the clouds above with unnatural ease. A horde of wraiths streamed off of Agatha's shadows, haunter and ghastly launching themselves at Betherian and swarming over her scaly hide. She cried out in pain, dozens of infernal claws tearing at every inch of her body. Agatha rocketed after Lance, leaving the dragon for her ghosts as they dragged her down to the surface.
Lance tumbled head over heels, desperately flailing about in the hopes that Betherian could find and catch him. His throat and lungs burned viciously from the cloud, making clear that it was no natural formation. He emerged from the cloud for a moment, falling towards the city below as he sucked down a breath of clean air. Agatha slammed into him as he fell, grabbing him by the throat and carrying him back into the cloud of smog. The acrid smell invaded his nose as he choked for air, kicking wildly at Agatha's chest.
She held him at an arm's length, unbothered by the poisonous air slowly killing Lance. "You're strong, boy. But stronger than you have tried to take this throne from me." She pulled him in closer to her, wisps of darkness wrapping around the both of them. "I'm going to enjoy watching you scream, " she whispered. Tendrils of black smoke streamed off her body, billowing around the two of them and pulling Lance into a cold embrace. "Show me what it is that you fear, " she said, demonic undertones straining to break through the façade. "Show me your worst nightmares, and watch them come true."
A pair of cackling shadows appeared over Agatha's shoulders. Mad grins spread across the gengars' mouths, black shadows streaming from their maw and enveloping Lance. The darkness swallowed them whole, and Lance lost all sense of perspective. He fell back, plummeting through the darkness to what was surely his death. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the end.
The gates groaned, wrought iron bars bending under the immense pressure. The great steel serpent straining against the gate roared and forced its armoured head further into the minuscule opening. The gates groaned as they yielded to the steelix's determined assault.
Another pair of ballistae launched their bolts into the Johtan formation, punching a hole in their shield wall. A hail of arrows slammed into the opening, felling another half dozen men as they found their mark. The mass of men shifted, adjusting to the opening in their line seamlessly. A second volley of arrows arced from the walls of the citadel, hammering into the hastily reformed shield wall.
A man in leather armour pushed through the crowd of men behind the gates, forcing himself closer to the charizard looming above the crowd. Purple accents hung from his wrists, the kind only worn by fuchsian ninjas. "Lord Marshal Oak, " he shouted hurriedly. "The gates will never hold!"
The charizard's rider turned his head, finding the man in the crowd. "Then we shall hold them ourselves, " he declared. He turned his head towards the gate, eying the groaning metal warily. "Master Li, " he called, searching the crowd for the master fighter.
"Lord Marshal, " the master replied, bowing deeply as he stepped into the circle of men around Oak. His usually white robes were stained a mottled brown, splashes of bright red marring the fabric.
Oak grimaced, knowing that he was trading lives for time. "Hold the gates, " he ordered. "When that steelix breaks through, you turn it to scrap."
The steelix let out a triumphant roar as it forced the gates open. The fighting master leapt from the Kantoan ranks, charging towards the massive serpent with his pokemon at his sides. He ducked under the steelix's tail, sliding under the massive blade. He rolled to his feet and drove a heel into one of the serpent's joints, denting the thick steel. The steelix growled and turned its head to crush the little human.
A fist wrapped in flames slammed into the side of the serpent's head, knocking it against the side of the gatehouse. The hitmonchan leapt into another punch, hammering its flaming fists into the steelix's sagging skull and superheating the beast's steel carapace as its master flipped away from the thrashing pokemon.
The steel serpent whined in pain, lashing out violently at the little hitmonchan pummeling the side of its skull. It slammed the lithe fighter into a wall, its bulk unavoidable in the close quarters. With a satisfied grunt it smeared the hitmonchan across the walls of the gatehouse, leaving a bloody stain on the stone.
"Rusty, return!" shouted a woman's voice. She raised a pokeball, intent on returning her pokemon before the Kantoans could do any more permanent damage.
The steelix perked up its head, glancing back at its trainer momentarily. A flying kick knocked it into unconsciousness. It collapsed into the ground, eyes rolling into the back of its head. A beam of light flashed from the woman's hand, dissolving the unconscious serpent and recalling it to its ball. The hitmonlee leapt backwards over the advancing line of Kantoan soldiers, allowing the men to plug the gap that Rusty had created.
The line of Kantoans locked their shields, forming an impenetrable wall in the ruined gatehouse. The looming shadow of a charizard stood behind the line, growling at the upstart Johtans that dared attempt to overthrow the queen. Lord Marshal Oak sat on the charizard's back, clad in a simple set of leather armour. A mighty oak tree was emblazoned on his chest. The charizard's rider drew a blade, holding it towards the sky.
"Turn back!" he shouted, voice booming over the field of battle. "You will find no glory here." His charizard tossed back its head and roared as if to punctuate his point.
A cacophony of challenges erupted from the body of the Johtan army. Dozens of flashes of light grew into the hulking forms of angry pokemon, their cries mixing with the Johtan war chant.
The Lord Marshal turned his head to the side and raised his arm. "Men of the East!" he shouted. "Today we hold back the dragon! Give no quarter, for your enemy will do the same." He thrust his blade into the sky, shouting a war cry that echoed across the Kantoan line.
The Johtan line broke as they charged towards the open gatehouse. The ballistae fired again, deflecting harmlessly into the dirt as a psychic barrier sprung into place. A hail of arrows launched from the archers on the walls, piercing the barrier and felling dozens of the charging Johtans. Hundreds more poured into the gatehouse, slamming into the Kantoan line.
Lord Marshal Oak urged his firedrake into the sky. She soared over the gatehouse and bellowed a challenge to the army at the gates. "Down, Flare, " he ordered. "Bathe them in fire."
She tucked her wings back against her torso, diving towards the ground. Her wings snapped out to catch the air and carry them just above the ground. A stream of flames washed over the Johtans, cooking a line of men within their armour. Pained screams reached Oak's ears as he passed over, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.
Flare flapped her wings twice, rising into the sky once again. Oak glanced down over his shoulder, watching in grim horror as the Kantoan line started to crumble under a barrage of elemental attacks. "Flare, down."
Flare tucked in her wings again, plummeting towards the earth. Even as she dropped, the Kantoan line broke under sustained pressure. Johtan soldiers forced themselves into the gaps created by their pokemon, splintering the Kantoan line in dozens of places.
Flare's wings snapped out, slowing her descent. She slammed into the ground, crushing a trio of Johtans with her clawed feet. She roared, urging the flame on her tail higher as she flapped her wings. A storm of flames whipped off of her tail, spinning around her as she added to the fire spin.
Lord Marshal Oak leapt off Flare's back as the firestorm engulfed the Johtans surrounding her, tossing a ball into the air. It burst open as he landed, two hundred pounds of blastoise spilling out onto the field. "Swiftstream, rapid spin!" he shouted as he rolled to his feet.
The blastoise leapt into the air with more grace than its bulk would have suggested. It tucked back into its shell, spinning like a top as it crashed through the mob of Johtans swarming the gatehouse. It carved a path through the Johtan formation, leaving a bloody trail of crushed bodies in its wake.
Oak turned away from his blastoise, driving his blade through a Johtan's chest as the man hacked away at a fallen soldier. His blade punched through the simple leather easily, impaling him through the chest. The Johtan collapsed as Oak tore his blade free and Oak swore, realizing that the man on the ground was already dead. Oak spun, bringing his shield up as a Johtan soldier leapt at him. He deflected the man's blade to the side, driving his own blade into a gap in the man's armour. He dropped, clutching at his shoulder as Oak tore his blade free in a spray of blood.
"Lord Marshal!" shouted a familiar voice. Master Li leapt from the Kantoan ranks, delivering a punishing kick to the chest of an onrushing Johtan. He grabbed the elbow of another Johtan as the melee crushed closer towards the Kantoan general, disarming the man with quick twist. He deftly grabbed the blade as it fell, driving it into the Johtan's stomach as the man stumbled. "We must go!" he shouted over the din of battle. "This battle is lost. We can ill afford to lose the war." His hitmonlee landed beside him, driving the pair of Johtans that rushed to avenge their fallen comrades back.
"No, " replied Oak calmly. "Hold them back! Have faith in your queen!" He pointed to the sky, watching the flashes of ominous light burst through the unnatural cloud cover. "What is dead cannot die!"
The fighting master nodded, his chest heaving with exhaustion. "What is dead cannot die!" he shouted back.
The chant echoed through the melee, Kantoan soldiers taking heart and repeating the chant even as scores of them fell to Johtan swords and spears. Slowly but surely, the Kantoan forces were being pushed further into the courtyard.
Flare roared, unleashing a torrent of flames that staunched the tide of men streaming through the gatehouse. The Johtan formation crumbled as men screamed in pain, flames cooking them alive inside their armour. The flamethrower ended as swiftstream spun back through the gatehouse, coated in a layer of crimson liquid. He popped back out of his shell, looking around at the carnage left by Flare's attack.
"Thunder!"
A bolt of lightning dropped from the sky, slamming into Swiftstream from above. Oak screamed a wordless cry as his blastoise convulsed in silence, electricity coursing through every fibre of his being. The moment seemed to last an eternity as the bolt split and arced into a half dozen Johtans that Flare had missed. Finally, mercifully, the bolt of lightning vanished. Swiftstream stood unnaturally still, muscles paralyzed by the untold amounts of electricity coursing through his system.
A ball of crackling energy barrelled through the gatehouse, ramming Swiftstream in the chest. The ball of energy exploded into a brilliant display of electricity, sending the blastoise sailing through the air. It landed among the ranks of Kantoans, crushing a pair of soldiers that hadn't noticed the flying pokemon.
Oak grimaced as he stared down the Johtan that had just finished off his blastoise. A part of him screamed in rage and grief, but he forced it down before his stoic façade could break. "Lord Gold, " he spat, glaring at the Johtan general as he waltzed through the remains of the gatehouse. A proud ampharos followed him, electricity crackling along its powerful tail. "I had expected you sooner, considering that your tricks held the dead at bay."
Lord Gold smiled under his helm. He reached up and lifted the helm from his head. A jagged cut marred his face, blood leaking from the hastily stitched wound. "You knew that they stood no chance against the might of the dragon!" he shouted. "So why spend their lives on a useless endeavour?"
Oak's expression faltered for a moment, mourning his friends. Flint and Kasumi had known the risks of their strategy, but insisted on it nonetheless. "Kanto will thank them for their sacrifice, " he replied. "They knew what the risks were." He looked up at the sky, desperately hoping for a miracle. Streams of shadows ripped through the sky, descending on the ancient city like scavengers drawn to carrion. Oak looked back down at his opponent, readying his weapon. "As do I, " he said calmly.
He heard footsteps at his side and spared a glance. Master Li nodded to him, his hitmonlee limping along behind him. "As does all of Kanto," said the master fighter. "We are prepared to do what is necessary."
Lord Gold shook his head. "I do not wish for more bloodshed. We were friends once, " he replied. "Kanto has suffered under the rule of the dead. Join us! We can welcome a new era of peace and cooperation, without the cold grip of a dead hand on our throats."
Lord Oak glanced up, desperately hoping that his Queen's aid would arrive. "The time for that is long passed, " he said, a tinge of regret seeping into his gruff voice. "Too much blood has been spilled in the name of your blasted dragon." He raised his blade, one eye on the plummeting horde of ghosts. "What is dead cannot die!"
The air above the citadel seemed to bend in protest, thousands of ghosts snuffing the fading sunlight out with their numbers.
Lord Gold's eyes widened, staring in horror at the hordes of the dead that swarmed over the city. His head snapped to the side, searching the ranks of men. "Will! Morty!" he shouted. "Hold them back!"
He saw Morty nod, his eyes wide at the prospect of holding back the ghosts. He held out a hand, pulsating purple energy swirling in his palm. A slender man in pale purple robes pushed himself towards Morty and locked eyes with Gold. He turned back to look at the sky as a stream of the ghosts screamed towards them.
A translucent barrier crackled and flashed to life, forming a dome over the citadel. The barrier groaned and bulged as thousands of ghosts threw themselves against it with reckless abandon.
The sky screamed in agony as the souls of the dead shrieked forth from the shadows. The poor souls outside the barrier didn't stand a chance, thousands of ghosts abandoning their mad assault on the citadel. Screams of pain and horror pierced the air, joined by the mad cackling of the dead.
"So be it," stated the Johtan general. "You will join your beloved Queen in death." He pulled his helm over his head and drew a blade from the scabbard on his hip. "For Johto," he said calmly.
Oak grimaced and gripped his sword a little tighter. He glanced up at Flare, and shot her a look of grim determination. "For Viridian," he said calmly. Flare nodded, her eyes locked with the typhlosion's. Oak roared a wordless cry as he charged, pain for the loss of his friends and pokemon fuelling his rage. He had traded countless lives, stalling until the Queen could summon the ghostly army she commanded. Now, cut off from that army, there was only one way out. The Kantoan ranks erupted towards the Johtan army, making one final desperate push
Master Li leapt over him, driving his foot into the chest of a shirtless mass of muscles that dwarfed him in size. The massive man barely flinched, shrugging off a blow that could fell castle walls. He retaliated with a brutal punch that drove the wind from Master Li's chest. The lithe fighter staggered backwards, wobbling on his feet. The mountain of muscle leapt forward, delivering a powerful right hook that dropped Master Li to the ground. The mountain of a man descended on the prone master, raining vicious blows with meaty fists.
Oak's blade met Lord Gold's with a resounding crash. The younger Johtan danced away, deftly avoiding the Lord Marshal's furious attack. The remains of the two armies slammed together, throwing men through the air with the force of their clash. Blasts of fire and lightning erupted from the ranks of each army, cutting swaths of men down with each attack.
Lord Gold stepped in closer to Oak, locking their blades together. "Look around you!" he shouted over the chaos. "This war is over!"
"Never!" retorted Oak. He stepped back, driving Lord Gold back with a vicious cross-swing. The two men stared at each other, grudging respect clear between them. Oak raised his blade, readying himself for the fight of his life. Flare growled at the Johtan's pokemon, eager to enact revenge for the blastoise she had considered a brother. Oak released another pokemon, a mighty venasaur that bellowed a challenge at the ampharos.
With a wordless cry, the two men charged each other. Their pokemon mirrored them, slamming together in a mortal tangle of flashing claws and snapping fangs. Whipping vines and blasts of electricity tore through the air, tearing down any men close by indiscriminately. For better or worse, the battle was going to end soon. Oak just prayed that he would come out of it alive.
Lance forged his way through the blackness, formless claws tearing and scratching at any exposed skin. He pulled his cape up to shield his face as a giggling haunter lunged for his throat, grimacing as the ghost reduced his favourite garment to tatters. He grunted and pushed through the horde of ghosts, stumbling into a thick fog as the ghosts vanished with a fading cackle.
"Show yourself, witch!" Lance shouted into the fog. He reached for the sheath at his side but found it empty. He cautiously waded into the spectral mist, eyes searching for any movement. A figure stumbled out of the mist, clutching at her side and holding the stump of her arm against her belly. Her silver-blue hair fell to her waist, matted to her bloodstained armour.
Lance rushed forwards, catching his cousin as she collapsed. "Clair, " he started, his voice wavering at the sight of her. Blood ran freely from the terrible gash on her side, streaming down her armour and over Lance's hands. Her left arm was a bloody stump, amputated just above her elbow. A latticework of burns had chewed away at her face, leaving a nearly unrecognizable wreck behind. "Who did this to you?" He could feel the life leaving her body while he watched. For the first time in ages, Lance was helpless.
Clair's mouth twisted into a sadistic grin despite the sickly black blood that leaked down her face. Clair grabbed Lance by the back of his head, the sudden outburst of strength holding him in place. She dug the stump of her arm into his stomach, eliciting a pained grunt. "You did, dear cousin, " she coughed out, blood and spittle splattering against Lance's face. "You and your blasted feral,"
"No, " Lance stated flatly. He pulled back, wrenching himself free of Clair's deathly cold grip. "Betherian would never…" His voice trailed off as Clair struggled to her feet.
Clair's back snapped in half, an unseen force crumpling the proud warrior as if she were a sheet of paper. A wet gurgle escaped her lips as she stared up at Lance in pure horror, her body contorted in impossible angles.
"Clair, " Lance whispered, his courage fading with his cousin's life. "I am sorry."
Clair spoke again, her voice bubbling with demonic undertones. "Your sorrow is worthless, " she hissed as her body collapsed. She giggled, and Lance felt a shiver run down his spine.
"You are not real, " he said, a blatant attempt to calm himself. He stepped back, grasping again at his empty sheath. "None of this is real, " he said.
Clair unfolded, her spine wrenching back into place with a sickening crack. "Of course it is real, " she spat, Agatha's voice straining underneath Clair's. "It just hasn't happened yet. After all, this is your nightmare."
Lance roared in anger, feeling the blood of the dragons quicken in his veins. "Get out of my head, witch." He took a step towards the illusion of his cousin and swung a fist.
A gengar burst from Clair's chest pinning Lance to the floor. The illusion faded into the spectral mist, leaving Agatha towering over the dragon tamer. "Not real enough?" she asked. She grinned savagely. "Perhaps we should dig deeper?"
The mist swirled around Agatha's form, obscuring her from Lance's view. It dove towards him, forcing itself into every orifice as Lance screamed in pain and terror.
He shuddered awake, coughing violently on the bitter taste in his mouth. He rolled to his side, retching on the taste of death and decay. He sucked in a breath, breathing in the smoky scent of a wood burning fire. The sweet tang of nostalgia invaded his nose, bringing back a horrific memory.
He sat up, searching for the mirror that he knew sat in the corner of the cramped room. A younger version of himself stared back, head wrapped in bandages.
The dragon at the foot of the bed lifted her head, fearful of the sudden movement. It cooed and slithered closer to Lance, curling around his arm happily.
All seemed right with the world, and Lance forgot he was dreaming for a moment. He ran his hands down the dratini's scaly hide, fingers tracing the innumerable scars that marred the dragon's hide. The wound on her side had yet to heal and Lance wondered if the poison had faded yet.
The door burst open, and the aroma of cooking pecha berries wafting into the cramped bedroom. The shadow of a man stood in the door, blood dripping off his trembling hands. "What have you done?" the man asked, voice dripping with draconic power. The room seemed to reverberate with energy, echoes of power striking a chord within Lance himself. "You bring a feral into this home? Disrespect me?"
"No, you don't understand. She's not feral!" Lance said as the figure stepped into the room. He stepped in front of the trembling dratini, defiant before the monster in front of him. "Father, what have you done?" He peered past the shadow of a man blocking his doorway, finding the mangled corpse of his mother laying on the stone floors. "What have you done?!"
He knew what came next. Years had passed, and he would never forget the horror of that day. His father moved towards him, reaching out with one of his impossibly large hands. Lance struck fast and true, crushing the man's windpipe with a lightning-fast blow. The shadow of his father collapsed, clutching at his throat. The look of fear on his face seared into Lance's mind, pulling memories that he had long forgotten back to the surface.
The floor dropped out from beneath him, plunging him back into darkness. He slammed against the bars of a steel cage, the cold metal burning his skin with its very touch.
The air swirled with black currents of energy, an ominous chill running down Lance's spine. A dim blue flame illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls of the ancient chamber. The elders of Blackthorn sat in a circle around him, coldly watching his struggle from afar.
Lance strained against the cold steel, his hands screaming in pain as he pulled at the metal cage. He locked his eyes on one of the elders, an ember of draconic fire flickering to life in his chest. "Release me, " he demanded in a voice that rippled with power.
The elder's eyes opened and Lance's heart skipped a beat. The balding man's eyes were soulless black pits, devouring Lance's attention and sanity the longer he watched. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, swollen and black with rot. He drew in a slow, rattling breath that chilled Lance down to his core. "You are an abomination, like your father before you. The blood does not lie." The elder cocked his head to the side, viscous black tar falling from his putrid mouth. "Your recklessness has cost this council dearly, in reputation and resources."
The cage flung open, dropping Lance onto the ice-cold floor. He struggled to his feet, gravity dragging him down even as he attempted to rise. The cold seeped into his bones, and Lance could feel his strength fading as the blood of the dragon ran cold in his veins.
The elders spoke again, their voices joining together in an unholy chorus of decay. "You will no longer sully the name of the Wataru Clan." A rush of wind and a pained groan above him drew his attention. "You and your feral beast shall pay the price."
Betherian screeched in pain as her cage lowered from the blackness, a sound that Lance had never heard the dragon make. She slammed into the bars of the cage, thrashing about madly at the cold touch of the steel. Every thrash tore through armoured scales as of they were paper, showering Lance with thick globs of blood.
Lance fell to his knees, staring up at his caged dragon in dismay. "This is not real, " he said, a vain attempt to calm his own racing heart. "None of this is." He reached for his blade again, finding an empty sheath in its place. "And that includes me." He closed his eyes, calming his breathing until the sound of his heartbeat was the only sound he could hear. He closed his hand on the hilt of his blade, tearing it free of its sheath with a flourish.
"Impossible," droned the elders. The inky black ceiling swelled and undulated, ancient forces furious with Lance's defiance. "None can break free of the nightmare."
Lance raised his blade, the dragonblood quickening in his veins despite the cold. Johto had chosen him to be their champion, and he would not fall to some petty illusion. "Perhaps your nightmares work on lesser men, but I am no lesser man." He gripped his blade tighter, whipping his blood into a frenzy. He looked up at the caged dragon above him and grimaced, knowing what he had to do.
The cage opened, and Betherian landed in front of him. Her scales were decayed and rotten, turned a pale and sickly green instead of their usual vibrant orange. Her jaws hung open, the stench of decay wafting out over her swollen black tongue. The dragon's eyes were glazed over as it lazily looked down at the defiant tamer.
Lance reached out with his very soul, looking for the familiar sensation of Betherian's essence. He recoiled at the touch of a cold, dead void. Betherian growled a low gurgling noise that took him by surprise. Lance steeled himself for what was to come and planted his feet. "And that is no dragon."
The undead abomination before him roared as if to dispute that. It took a step towards him, its armoured claws thudding on the rough-hewn stone. It swiped at him, swinging wildly at the tamer.
Lance ducked under the attack, burying his own blade up to the hilt in the abomination's gut. Betherian shrieked in pain, mad cackling interspersed with the dying dragon's cries. The undead dragon's scales split open at the touch of Lance's blade, spewing a geyser of acidic blood onto the dragon tamer.
He leapt back, tearing his blade free and stepping back to look at the dragon's convulsing form. The illusion shattered, scales fading into a shadowy purple form. The gengar groaned, clawed arms clutching the gash in its belly.
"So they can be hurt in the dream, " Lance muttered. He jumped forward, driving his blade into the centre of the ghost. It wailed a mournful cry and dissolved into a steaming puddle of ectoplasm. Lance turned up his nose at the goo, turning away from the sickly smell.
The chamber shook violently, the darkness above Lance swirling madly. Clawed arms reached for him from the blackness, thick, smoking tar dripping from the points of each claw. Lance closed his eyes, ignoring the nightmares reaching for him from the shadows.
His throat and lungs burned, the poisonous smog ripping and tearing at his esophagus as he sucked down another breath. Lance opened his eyes, the flickers of dragonfire in his chest growing larger.
Agatha stared back at him as one of the gengar over her shoulders faded from existence. She scowled, looking down at the dragon tamer held in her grasp. "That's two of my wraiths that you've banished now, " she said coldly. She pulled him in closer, her hand still clamped down on his throat with an iron grip. "You will not have the chance to do so again."
Despite the fact that he was held by his throat hundreds of feet in the air, in a cloud of smog, with no sign of his dragon, Lance grinned. "Just watch me, " he choked, forcing the words out through Agatha's grasp.
Agatha sneered and released him, bringing a cackle of glee from her remaining ghost. He hung there for a moment, a tendril of shadowy energy holding him in place. Agatha smirked as she released him, content to let gravity do her work for her.
Lance felt the draconic power fade and fear take over as he plummeted away from Agatha. "Betherian!" he shouted, desperate for the dragon to hear him. He shouted again, his voice lost in the rush of wind.
An orange blur whizzed by, snagging his tattered cape in her jaws. Lance grunted in pain as he was violently jerked out of his fall. He grabbed tightly to his dragon's torso, clinging on for dear life as she flared her wings desperately.
Betherian spun in the air, slamming through the translucent barrier over the citadel and shattering it to pieces. She hit the dirt with force, roaring in pain as she skidded along the cobblestone. Dozens of men scrambled for cover as the dragon crashed through their formation and ground to a halt in the middle of the melee.
Lance stumbled to his feet, tearing his blade free of its sheath. Betherian stirred weakly, slowly lumbering back to her feet. She tested her wings and grunted in pain, one of her wings limply laying broken at her side.
"We'll get that looked after once this is over, " Lance said. He patted Betherian's side, grinning up at her despite the carnage surrounding them. "Thank you for catching me."
The dragonite looked down at him and snorted as if to ask what else she was supposed to do. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she glared at the lone man who dared challenge them.
A bolt of lightning erupted from her horns, frying the man where he stood. Lance shook his head as the man collapsed, still convulsing madly as electricity coursed through him. All around them, the few remaining Kantoans fled on flying mounts as their morale finally broke. None dared to stay and fight in the presence of the dragonlord.
A chill ran down Lance's spine and he looked up. The sky ran black with rivers of shadows as the hordes of ghosts raced across the sky.
"Your Grace, " shouted a voice from the crowd of soldiers. Morty emerged from the bafflefield, his gengar hovering malevolently over his shoulder. Lance shuddered momentarily at the sight of the ghost, stopping himself before one of his men noticed the fear in their King. Morty looked up at the skies in dismay. "Is the Queen dead?"
"No, " he replied. "merely angry." He looked up at the sky, picking Agatha's floating form out of the shadows easily. "How goes the battle?"
"Their Lord Marshal has fallen, your turncoat did his job well," Morty said. "The rest of the remaining Kantoans fled the moment that you broke that barrier. The citadel has fallen and the battle is won." He looked up at the swarms of ghosts streaming through the sky and grimaced. "Although, those ghosts have devastated our armies. We can ill afford to continue our campaign into Kanto without returning home to gather more men."
Lance stared up at the sky, eyes locked onto Agatha as she approached. "The battle is not over, " he stated coldly. "The queen still lives."
Morty looked up, following Lance's gaze. He stepped back in horror as the sky blackened completely, plunging the ancient castle into darkness. Only the eerie glow of the fires burning throughout the city lent any light to the scene. "The King is here!" he shouted. "Defend the King!"
Lord Gold emerged from the ranks of men, his armour dented and leaking blood in several places. His pokemon stood at his sides, wounded and weary from their own battles with the Lord Marshal's pokemon. "Hold fast!" he shouted over the crowd. "Form up on me! The battle is nearly won." He turned to Lance, bowing his head with respect.
"Well done, " Lance said. "It seems my trust was well placed." He looked up at Agatha, and then back at Lord Gold. "Her army is scattered to the wind. She fights for survival, not her throne."
"Wrong, " Agatha boomed over the field. Faint cackling echoed under her voice, ringing in Lance's ears. "I fight for vengeance." She floated to the ground, gently borne on wisps of smoky black shadows. Her lone gengar glared at Betherian from above Agatha's shoulder with glowing red eyes. "You have taken everything from me."
"Then you will fall, " Lance replied. He stepped forward, the draconic embers in his chest roaring into an inferno. Betherian roared in response, challenging the ghost that dared stand before her. Lance spoke again, pure draconic power radiating off him in waves. "Your reign of terror is over."
Morty chanted in a forgotten tongue behind him, his mismagius mimicking every word in a demonic tone. A rotten yellow eye appeared, conjured by the medium and his ghost. The rotten eye opened, fixating on the Ghost Queen. Morty opened his eyes as the life drained from his face. "She is trapped, " he rasped. "The mean look will hold her here, though I can't say how long."
He raised his blade, staring down the Ghost Queen with the inferno of dragonfire smouldering in his chest. "This ends now, " he stated evenly. "I challenge you for the ri-"
Agatha shrieked and leapt forward, propelled by a jet of shadowy energy. A blade of stygian blackness formed in Agatha's hands, trailing a stream of black smoke behind her. Lance leapt from the Johtan line, determined to defend his countrymen. He shot through the air, propelled at superhuman speeds towards the medium. Their blades clashed together with a resounding crash, supernatural strength meeting with something not completely human.
Her gengar surged forward, a ball of shadows forming in its claws. It threw the ball of energy at the dragon where it splashed off armoured orange scales harmlessly. Betherian looked down at the ghost and snorted derisively. She lowered her head, blasting a bolt of lightning that carved a charred path towards the gengar. Agatha's ghost seemed to merge with the shadows, slinking away from the violent arcs of electricity.
Betherian roared again, incensed at her target's sudden disappearance. She reared her head back, azure flames spilling out of he maw. The dragonbreath washed over the darkness, bathing the battle in an eerie blue glow. The gengar's death screech tore through the courtyard, grating at the eardrums of everyone present as the flames ripped through its form. A horde of haunter and ghastly dove from the nightmare above, pinning the dragon to the ground and cutting off the blue flames.
Agatha slipped away again, melting back into the shadows where Lance could not follow. She appeared again, diving towards him on a current of black smoke. She scored a glancing blow on the inside of his left leg. Her momentum carried her past him, out of the reach of Lance's blade. She sank back into a shadow, disappearing from sight again.
"Stand and fight!" Lance commanded, swiping at Agatha's shadow as she faded into the darkness. His blade passed through nothing, striking the cobblestone streets as he carried through with his swing.
She leapt out of another shadow, feinting towards Lance's head. He bit on the feint and swung his blade up to intercept hers. She slipped under his guard, scoring a direct blow that bit through his armour and sliced a shallow cut on his stomach. He doubled over, clutching at the gash in his belly.
Agatha stepped out of the darkness in front of Lance, visibly gloating as he nursed his wound. "This is Johto's great champion?" she asked. "Afraid of the dark?" She tossed her head back, maniacal laughter ringing out over the silenced Johtan army.
Lance grunted, dropping to one knee. He could feel his hold on the dragonfires inside him slipping as he strained to control himself. The embers roared higher, and Lance let himself be lost in their inferno.
Betherian thrashed madly as her temper flared. A dull red glow emanated from the dragonite's orange scales, giving the dragon her own demonic appearance. Ghosts peeled away from her in waves, desperately fleeing from the enraged dragon's wrath.
"Betherian, outrage!" Lance ordered. He forced himself back to his feet, the same dull red glow burning off of him. Draconic power radiated off of him, giving him strength as his rage burned hotter.
His dragonite bellowed madly as she tore into the fleeing ghosts with reckless abandon. Every snap of her jaws and swipe of her claws showered her surroundings with another spray of dark purple blood. Ghosts fell to her like wheat before a scythe, drenching her claws in gooey ectoplasm.
Agatha shrieked, turning her back on Lance. She reached out to the fleeing ghosts, bringing them back under her thrall with practised ease. She pointed at Betherian with a blood-curdling shriek, all her anger and attention aimed at the dragon.
The fleeing ghosts turned on a dime, hurtling back towards the dragon with self-preservation forgotten. She cut through the swarm even as their shadow claws tore through her hide, her rage blocking out the pain as she continued her rampage.
Lance's blade sprouted from Agatha's chest with a spray of blood. Her body slumped back onto his blade as she desperately attempted to suck down a breath. Betherian looked up from the slaughter, bloodlust clouding her eyes.
Lance forced his blade deeper, burying it up to the hilt in Agatha's back. The ghosts mauling his dragon stopped their assault, turning and regarding the scene curiously. He cradled her body against his, his lips inches from her ear as the ghosts started to approach. "Never turn your back on an opponent. Not until he lays dead at your feet."
She gurgled a response, words lost in the bubble of blood that spurted from her mouth. Lance stepped back, tearing his blade free with a violent flourish. Agatha dropped to her knees, eyes fearfully locked on the ghosts converging on her. She raised an arm, a stream of shadows lazily snaking out of the palm of her hand.
A particularly brave haunter darted forward, knocking aside Agatha's fading resistance with ease. She raised her arm fearfully, a final vain attempt to defend herself. The ghost pounced, ripping and tearing at her flesh with its claws. The swarm of ghosts descended on their former master, ripping her to pieces as she shrieked in pain.
Lance averted his eyes, unable to watch as the ghosts dragged their master back to whatever demonic plane of existence they came from. He didn't dare look until the mad cackling of a thousand ghosts faded and the chill left his spine.
The sun poked through the clouds, still labouring above one of the peaks surrounding the plateau. Lance looked at the place Agatha had fallen, noticing only the inky black stain left behind.
"Your Grace, " Morty started, hope filling his voice with warmth. "It is done."
Lance looked to the sky, the images of Agatha's nightmares still burning in his mind. "No, " he replied. "This city still writhes in pain. Agatha killed many by summoning her army."
Lord Gold stepped forward, favouring his wounded leg and limping slightly. "Much of our army was outside the barrier when the ghosts attacked. I recommend that we rest here, at least until we know the extent of the carnage."
Lance nodded, a tired smile worn on his face. "Very well then, " he said. "We rest here. At least for now." He looked up at Betherian, allowing himself to savour the victory.
His dragon lowered her head, sniffing at the rent in the King's gilded armour. She growled softly, sniffing at the blood leaking from his belly cautiously. She growled pointedly, as if to chide Lance for his sloppiness.
"I know, " he said, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Seems as if I've gone soft, " he said. He closed his eyes and toppled to the side, his legs buckling from blood loss. He felt hands grabbing at him, tearing his armour off in a hurry. Frantic shouts and angry voices faded into nothingness, and then he felt nothing at all.
I was initially interested in the idea of this fic after playing Pokemon Conquest. However, I don't really think that the game did the idea justice. Pokemon fits very well into a fantasy story and this is the result of that idea. They just work perfectly because they are fantasy creatures.
This is a story set in the medieval era. It is very much a fantasy epic. There will be death, and violence, and probably sex. Please be warned before you begin. There probably won't be any lemons, but that ain't my cup of tea anyways.
So without further ado, enjoy Salvation!
Arc 1: Death of Innocence
Nightmare
The chains are broken. An empire falls.
Nightmare
The chains are broken. An empire falls.
The sun hung lazily over the peaks, casting jagged shadows across the ruined and shattered plateau. The ancient city that lay nestled into the mountainside burned in agony, smouldering fires spewing acrid black smoke into the pristine mountain air. A ball of flame launched from one of the siege engines surrounding the city. It slammed into a watchtower, reducing it to a pile of burning rubble. Azure flames ripped through the cobblestone streets, torching homes and storefronts with impunity. The few men who still dared defy their fate manned the walls of the citadel, determined to defend their queen until the last.
A lone dragon soared above the city, her rider peering down at the chaos unfolding below. A dark cape flapped out behind him, billowing in the gale that whipped over the peaks. He shivered slightly, the cold biting down to his core. He shrugged off the discomfort, ignoring the shudder that ran through his body. He bore the blood of the dragon, and dragons did not show weakness.
Lance couldn't help but grin as the pride of Johto's oppressor burned at his hand. Dragons ran rampant through the ancient streets of the Indigo Plateau, savaging the few men that hadn't managed to retreat to the citadel. A grim smile crossed his face as the column of men marching through the city ground to a halt at the iron-wrought gates of the citadel. A pair of ballistae bolts sailed from the battlements, skewering the shield wall and shattering the formation. Now the battle would truly begin, and Lance was going to enjoy it.
A cloaked spectre emerged from his shadows, wreathed in darkness. It tipped its head in a polite nod and opened its cloak as it chanted in an arcane language. Darkness streamed out of the open cloak, taking the form of a man's head. A dirty mop of blond hair emerged, tendrils of smoky shadows streaming off the man's pale white skin. "My King, I have failed you, " he said. "Agatha has summoned her wraiths. She has broken my seal on the city."
"You have not failed, Morty, " Lance replied, his powerful voice carrying above the din of battle. "She is a powerful medium with centuries of experience. She will not give up her crown without a fight."
The sky seemed to darken as he spoke, clouds turning black as they gathered over the city. The peaceful sunset disappeared, swallowed up by the menacing clouds that formed at unnatural speeds. A savage grin loomed large above the city, malevolent intent radiating from the ancient gengar's formless smile as it appeared in the shadows cast by the clouds.
"Protect the army, " Lance ordered, not even sparing a glance for Morty. He knew that the medium would follow his orders without question. The man had never questioned him before and Lance doubted that he would start now. "I will handle her."
He felt Morty's presence disappear and spared a glance at his dissolving form. The mismagius winked at him knowingly as it dissolved into the void. He turned his attention back towards Agatha's prized gengar, an inhuman fire burning behind his eyes. He leaned in towards his dragonite's ears, his voice rippling with draconic power. "Come now, Betherian. Let us end this war."
His dragon tossed back her head, roaring a challenge to the wraith that waited above them. She flapped her powerful wings twice, drawing even with the wispy shadow as she soared past it. She roared again, azure flames streaming from her maw as she banked hard and swooped around the gengar.
Agatha hung in the air behind her ghost, her body wrapped in a layer of smoky darkness. Her long grey hair blew wildly in the spectral winds that whipped angrily around the Ghost Queen. The dragonfire flew back at the dragon and her tamer, repelled by the ghostly winds that tore through the atmosphere.
Lance raised his cape, shielding himself with the material as a storm of dragonfire washed over him. He lowered the smoking cape, glaring at the Ghost Queen. She hung in the same place as before, a grin crossing her face. She crossed her arms, looking at him with an unimpressed stare.
"I had expected more, " she said coldly, her voice carrying on the wind. It was cold and quiet, barely more than a whisper that seemed to come from just behind Lance's head. "Attempting to separate me from my pets was clever. However, it was ultimately futile. You will die just the same."
The orange dragon swooped in, abandoning her ranged attacks. She raked an outstretched claw through the gengar's immaterial form. Betherian roared as she tore through the gaseous ghost, purple mist slipping through her claws unharmed.
The gengar cackled madly, reforming behind the dragon and her tamer. It dove into Lance from behind, driving its ghostly claws into his back. It sank into his body, a quick attempt to possess the would-be usurper. Lance drew in a sharp breath, steeling his mind for a mental assault. Waves of nightmares crashed into his mental barriers, nearly overwhelming him. Violent images of rotting corpses and broken dragons dragged their shattered forms towards the tamer.
The nightmares faded for a moment, and Lance struck back with all the force his battered mind could muster. The gengar screeched in pain as he expelled it from his body, forcing it to manifest in front of Betherian. The dragonite's waiting maw slammed shut on the gengar's midsection, bisecting the ghost with ease. Inky black blood poured out over Betherian's jaws, staining her brilliant orange scales a dark purple. She shook her head viciously, tearing the wraith to pieces as Lance again pulled his cape up over his face. The acidic blood splashed against his cape, burning his skin where it seeped through the fabric.
His victory was short lived. Agatha leapt into action, grabbing him by his cape with a pale and bony arm. She tore him from the back of his dragon, throwing him into the clouds above with unnatural ease. A horde of wraiths streamed off of Agatha's shadows, haunter and ghastly launching themselves at Betherian and swarming over her scaly hide. She cried out in pain, dozens of infernal claws tearing at every inch of her body. Agatha rocketed after Lance, leaving the dragon for her ghosts as they dragged her down to the surface.
Lance tumbled head over heels, desperately flailing about in the hopes that Betherian could find and catch him. His throat and lungs burned viciously from the cloud, making clear that it was no natural formation. He emerged from the cloud for a moment, falling towards the city below as he sucked down a breath of clean air. Agatha slammed into him as he fell, grabbing him by the throat and carrying him back into the cloud of smog. The acrid smell invaded his nose as he choked for air, kicking wildly at Agatha's chest.
She held him at an arm's length, unbothered by the poisonous air slowly killing Lance. "You're strong, boy. But stronger than you have tried to take this throne from me." She pulled him in closer to her, wisps of darkness wrapping around the both of them. "I'm going to enjoy watching you scream, " she whispered. Tendrils of black smoke streamed off her body, billowing around the two of them and pulling Lance into a cold embrace. "Show me what it is that you fear, " she said, demonic undertones straining to break through the façade. "Show me your worst nightmares, and watch them come true."
A pair of cackling shadows appeared over Agatha's shoulders. Mad grins spread across the gengars' mouths, black shadows streaming from their maw and enveloping Lance. The darkness swallowed them whole, and Lance lost all sense of perspective. He fell back, plummeting through the darkness to what was surely his death. He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the end.
The gates groaned, wrought iron bars bending under the immense pressure. The great steel serpent straining against the gate roared and forced its armoured head further into the minuscule opening. The gates groaned as they yielded to the steelix's determined assault.
Another pair of ballistae launched their bolts into the Johtan formation, punching a hole in their shield wall. A hail of arrows slammed into the opening, felling another half dozen men as they found their mark. The mass of men shifted, adjusting to the opening in their line seamlessly. A second volley of arrows arced from the walls of the citadel, hammering into the hastily reformed shield wall.
A man in leather armour pushed through the crowd of men behind the gates, forcing himself closer to the charizard looming above the crowd. Purple accents hung from his wrists, the kind only worn by fuchsian ninjas. "Lord Marshal Oak, " he shouted hurriedly. "The gates will never hold!"
The charizard's rider turned his head, finding the man in the crowd. "Then we shall hold them ourselves, " he declared. He turned his head towards the gate, eying the groaning metal warily. "Master Li, " he called, searching the crowd for the master fighter.
"Lord Marshal, " the master replied, bowing deeply as he stepped into the circle of men around Oak. His usually white robes were stained a mottled brown, splashes of bright red marring the fabric.
Oak grimaced, knowing that he was trading lives for time. "Hold the gates, " he ordered. "When that steelix breaks through, you turn it to scrap."
The steelix let out a triumphant roar as it forced the gates open. The fighting master leapt from the Kantoan ranks, charging towards the massive serpent with his pokemon at his sides. He ducked under the steelix's tail, sliding under the massive blade. He rolled to his feet and drove a heel into one of the serpent's joints, denting the thick steel. The steelix growled and turned its head to crush the little human.
A fist wrapped in flames slammed into the side of the serpent's head, knocking it against the side of the gatehouse. The hitmonchan leapt into another punch, hammering its flaming fists into the steelix's sagging skull and superheating the beast's steel carapace as its master flipped away from the thrashing pokemon.
The steel serpent whined in pain, lashing out violently at the little hitmonchan pummeling the side of its skull. It slammed the lithe fighter into a wall, its bulk unavoidable in the close quarters. With a satisfied grunt it smeared the hitmonchan across the walls of the gatehouse, leaving a bloody stain on the stone.
"Rusty, return!" shouted a woman's voice. She raised a pokeball, intent on returning her pokemon before the Kantoans could do any more permanent damage.
The steelix perked up its head, glancing back at its trainer momentarily. A flying kick knocked it into unconsciousness. It collapsed into the ground, eyes rolling into the back of its head. A beam of light flashed from the woman's hand, dissolving the unconscious serpent and recalling it to its ball. The hitmonlee leapt backwards over the advancing line of Kantoan soldiers, allowing the men to plug the gap that Rusty had created.
The line of Kantoans locked their shields, forming an impenetrable wall in the ruined gatehouse. The looming shadow of a charizard stood behind the line, growling at the upstart Johtans that dared attempt to overthrow the queen. Lord Marshal Oak sat on the charizard's back, clad in a simple set of leather armour. A mighty oak tree was emblazoned on his chest. The charizard's rider drew a blade, holding it towards the sky.
"Turn back!" he shouted, voice booming over the field of battle. "You will find no glory here." His charizard tossed back its head and roared as if to punctuate his point.
A cacophony of challenges erupted from the body of the Johtan army. Dozens of flashes of light grew into the hulking forms of angry pokemon, their cries mixing with the Johtan war chant.
The Lord Marshal turned his head to the side and raised his arm. "Men of the East!" he shouted. "Today we hold back the dragon! Give no quarter, for your enemy will do the same." He thrust his blade into the sky, shouting a war cry that echoed across the Kantoan line.
The Johtan line broke as they charged towards the open gatehouse. The ballistae fired again, deflecting harmlessly into the dirt as a psychic barrier sprung into place. A hail of arrows launched from the archers on the walls, piercing the barrier and felling dozens of the charging Johtans. Hundreds more poured into the gatehouse, slamming into the Kantoan line.
Lord Marshal Oak urged his firedrake into the sky. She soared over the gatehouse and bellowed a challenge to the army at the gates. "Down, Flare, " he ordered. "Bathe them in fire."
She tucked her wings back against her torso, diving towards the ground. Her wings snapped out to catch the air and carry them just above the ground. A stream of flames washed over the Johtans, cooking a line of men within their armour. Pained screams reached Oak's ears as he passed over, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.
Flare flapped her wings twice, rising into the sky once again. Oak glanced down over his shoulder, watching in grim horror as the Kantoan line started to crumble under a barrage of elemental attacks. "Flare, down."
Flare tucked in her wings again, plummeting towards the earth. Even as she dropped, the Kantoan line broke under sustained pressure. Johtan soldiers forced themselves into the gaps created by their pokemon, splintering the Kantoan line in dozens of places.
Flare's wings snapped out, slowing her descent. She slammed into the ground, crushing a trio of Johtans with her clawed feet. She roared, urging the flame on her tail higher as she flapped her wings. A storm of flames whipped off of her tail, spinning around her as she added to the fire spin.
Lord Marshal Oak leapt off Flare's back as the firestorm engulfed the Johtans surrounding her, tossing a ball into the air. It burst open as he landed, two hundred pounds of blastoise spilling out onto the field. "Swiftstream, rapid spin!" he shouted as he rolled to his feet.
The blastoise leapt into the air with more grace than its bulk would have suggested. It tucked back into its shell, spinning like a top as it crashed through the mob of Johtans swarming the gatehouse. It carved a path through the Johtan formation, leaving a bloody trail of crushed bodies in its wake.
Oak turned away from his blastoise, driving his blade through a Johtan's chest as the man hacked away at a fallen soldier. His blade punched through the simple leather easily, impaling him through the chest. The Johtan collapsed as Oak tore his blade free and Oak swore, realizing that the man on the ground was already dead. Oak spun, bringing his shield up as a Johtan soldier leapt at him. He deflected the man's blade to the side, driving his own blade into a gap in the man's armour. He dropped, clutching at his shoulder as Oak tore his blade free in a spray of blood.
"Lord Marshal!" shouted a familiar voice. Master Li leapt from the Kantoan ranks, delivering a punishing kick to the chest of an onrushing Johtan. He grabbed the elbow of another Johtan as the melee crushed closer towards the Kantoan general, disarming the man with quick twist. He deftly grabbed the blade as it fell, driving it into the Johtan's stomach as the man stumbled. "We must go!" he shouted over the din of battle. "This battle is lost. We can ill afford to lose the war." His hitmonlee landed beside him, driving the pair of Johtans that rushed to avenge their fallen comrades back.
"No, " replied Oak calmly. "Hold them back! Have faith in your queen!" He pointed to the sky, watching the flashes of ominous light burst through the unnatural cloud cover. "What is dead cannot die!"
The fighting master nodded, his chest heaving with exhaustion. "What is dead cannot die!" he shouted back.
The chant echoed through the melee, Kantoan soldiers taking heart and repeating the chant even as scores of them fell to Johtan swords and spears. Slowly but surely, the Kantoan forces were being pushed further into the courtyard.
Flare roared, unleashing a torrent of flames that staunched the tide of men streaming through the gatehouse. The Johtan formation crumbled as men screamed in pain, flames cooking them alive inside their armour. The flamethrower ended as swiftstream spun back through the gatehouse, coated in a layer of crimson liquid. He popped back out of his shell, looking around at the carnage left by Flare's attack.
"Thunder!"
A bolt of lightning dropped from the sky, slamming into Swiftstream from above. Oak screamed a wordless cry as his blastoise convulsed in silence, electricity coursing through every fibre of his being. The moment seemed to last an eternity as the bolt split and arced into a half dozen Johtans that Flare had missed. Finally, mercifully, the bolt of lightning vanished. Swiftstream stood unnaturally still, muscles paralyzed by the untold amounts of electricity coursing through his system.
A ball of crackling energy barrelled through the gatehouse, ramming Swiftstream in the chest. The ball of energy exploded into a brilliant display of electricity, sending the blastoise sailing through the air. It landed among the ranks of Kantoans, crushing a pair of soldiers that hadn't noticed the flying pokemon.
Oak grimaced as he stared down the Johtan that had just finished off his blastoise. A part of him screamed in rage and grief, but he forced it down before his stoic façade could break. "Lord Gold, " he spat, glaring at the Johtan general as he waltzed through the remains of the gatehouse. A proud ampharos followed him, electricity crackling along its powerful tail. "I had expected you sooner, considering that your tricks held the dead at bay."
Lord Gold smiled under his helm. He reached up and lifted the helm from his head. A jagged cut marred his face, blood leaking from the hastily stitched wound. "You knew that they stood no chance against the might of the dragon!" he shouted. "So why spend their lives on a useless endeavour?"
Oak's expression faltered for a moment, mourning his friends. Flint and Kasumi had known the risks of their strategy, but insisted on it nonetheless. "Kanto will thank them for their sacrifice, " he replied. "They knew what the risks were." He looked up at the sky, desperately hoping for a miracle. Streams of shadows ripped through the sky, descending on the ancient city like scavengers drawn to carrion. Oak looked back down at his opponent, readying his weapon. "As do I, " he said calmly.
He heard footsteps at his side and spared a glance. Master Li nodded to him, his hitmonlee limping along behind him. "As does all of Kanto," said the master fighter. "We are prepared to do what is necessary."
Lord Gold shook his head. "I do not wish for more bloodshed. We were friends once, " he replied. "Kanto has suffered under the rule of the dead. Join us! We can welcome a new era of peace and cooperation, without the cold grip of a dead hand on our throats."
Lord Oak glanced up, desperately hoping that his Queen's aid would arrive. "The time for that is long passed, " he said, a tinge of regret seeping into his gruff voice. "Too much blood has been spilled in the name of your blasted dragon." He raised his blade, one eye on the plummeting horde of ghosts. "What is dead cannot die!"
The air above the citadel seemed to bend in protest, thousands of ghosts snuffing the fading sunlight out with their numbers.
Lord Gold's eyes widened, staring in horror at the hordes of the dead that swarmed over the city. His head snapped to the side, searching the ranks of men. "Will! Morty!" he shouted. "Hold them back!"
He saw Morty nod, his eyes wide at the prospect of holding back the ghosts. He held out a hand, pulsating purple energy swirling in his palm. A slender man in pale purple robes pushed himself towards Morty and locked eyes with Gold. He turned back to look at the sky as a stream of the ghosts screamed towards them.
A translucent barrier crackled and flashed to life, forming a dome over the citadel. The barrier groaned and bulged as thousands of ghosts threw themselves against it with reckless abandon.
The sky screamed in agony as the souls of the dead shrieked forth from the shadows. The poor souls outside the barrier didn't stand a chance, thousands of ghosts abandoning their mad assault on the citadel. Screams of pain and horror pierced the air, joined by the mad cackling of the dead.
"So be it," stated the Johtan general. "You will join your beloved Queen in death." He pulled his helm over his head and drew a blade from the scabbard on his hip. "For Johto," he said calmly.
Oak grimaced and gripped his sword a little tighter. He glanced up at Flare, and shot her a look of grim determination. "For Viridian," he said calmly. Flare nodded, her eyes locked with the typhlosion's. Oak roared a wordless cry as he charged, pain for the loss of his friends and pokemon fuelling his rage. He had traded countless lives, stalling until the Queen could summon the ghostly army she commanded. Now, cut off from that army, there was only one way out. The Kantoan ranks erupted towards the Johtan army, making one final desperate push
Master Li leapt over him, driving his foot into the chest of a shirtless mass of muscles that dwarfed him in size. The massive man barely flinched, shrugging off a blow that could fell castle walls. He retaliated with a brutal punch that drove the wind from Master Li's chest. The lithe fighter staggered backwards, wobbling on his feet. The mountain of muscle leapt forward, delivering a powerful right hook that dropped Master Li to the ground. The mountain of a man descended on the prone master, raining vicious blows with meaty fists.
Oak's blade met Lord Gold's with a resounding crash. The younger Johtan danced away, deftly avoiding the Lord Marshal's furious attack. The remains of the two armies slammed together, throwing men through the air with the force of their clash. Blasts of fire and lightning erupted from the ranks of each army, cutting swaths of men down with each attack.
Lord Gold stepped in closer to Oak, locking their blades together. "Look around you!" he shouted over the chaos. "This war is over!"
"Never!" retorted Oak. He stepped back, driving Lord Gold back with a vicious cross-swing. The two men stared at each other, grudging respect clear between them. Oak raised his blade, readying himself for the fight of his life. Flare growled at the Johtan's pokemon, eager to enact revenge for the blastoise she had considered a brother. Oak released another pokemon, a mighty venasaur that bellowed a challenge at the ampharos.
With a wordless cry, the two men charged each other. Their pokemon mirrored them, slamming together in a mortal tangle of flashing claws and snapping fangs. Whipping vines and blasts of electricity tore through the air, tearing down any men close by indiscriminately. For better or worse, the battle was going to end soon. Oak just prayed that he would come out of it alive.
Lance forged his way through the blackness, formless claws tearing and scratching at any exposed skin. He pulled his cape up to shield his face as a giggling haunter lunged for his throat, grimacing as the ghost reduced his favourite garment to tatters. He grunted and pushed through the horde of ghosts, stumbling into a thick fog as the ghosts vanished with a fading cackle.
"Show yourself, witch!" Lance shouted into the fog. He reached for the sheath at his side but found it empty. He cautiously waded into the spectral mist, eyes searching for any movement. A figure stumbled out of the mist, clutching at her side and holding the stump of her arm against her belly. Her silver-blue hair fell to her waist, matted to her bloodstained armour.
Lance rushed forwards, catching his cousin as she collapsed. "Clair, " he started, his voice wavering at the sight of her. Blood ran freely from the terrible gash on her side, streaming down her armour and over Lance's hands. Her left arm was a bloody stump, amputated just above her elbow. A latticework of burns had chewed away at her face, leaving a nearly unrecognizable wreck behind. "Who did this to you?" He could feel the life leaving her body while he watched. For the first time in ages, Lance was helpless.
Clair's mouth twisted into a sadistic grin despite the sickly black blood that leaked down her face. Clair grabbed Lance by the back of his head, the sudden outburst of strength holding him in place. She dug the stump of her arm into his stomach, eliciting a pained grunt. "You did, dear cousin, " she coughed out, blood and spittle splattering against Lance's face. "You and your blasted feral,"
"No, " Lance stated flatly. He pulled back, wrenching himself free of Clair's deathly cold grip. "Betherian would never…" His voice trailed off as Clair struggled to her feet.
Clair's back snapped in half, an unseen force crumpling the proud warrior as if she were a sheet of paper. A wet gurgle escaped her lips as she stared up at Lance in pure horror, her body contorted in impossible angles.
"Clair, " Lance whispered, his courage fading with his cousin's life. "I am sorry."
Clair spoke again, her voice bubbling with demonic undertones. "Your sorrow is worthless, " she hissed as her body collapsed. She giggled, and Lance felt a shiver run down his spine.
"You are not real, " he said, a blatant attempt to calm himself. He stepped back, grasping again at his empty sheath. "None of this is real, " he said.
Clair unfolded, her spine wrenching back into place with a sickening crack. "Of course it is real, " she spat, Agatha's voice straining underneath Clair's. "It just hasn't happened yet. After all, this is your nightmare."
Lance roared in anger, feeling the blood of the dragons quicken in his veins. "Get out of my head, witch." He took a step towards the illusion of his cousin and swung a fist.
A gengar burst from Clair's chest pinning Lance to the floor. The illusion faded into the spectral mist, leaving Agatha towering over the dragon tamer. "Not real enough?" she asked. She grinned savagely. "Perhaps we should dig deeper?"
The mist swirled around Agatha's form, obscuring her from Lance's view. It dove towards him, forcing itself into every orifice as Lance screamed in pain and terror.
He shuddered awake, coughing violently on the bitter taste in his mouth. He rolled to his side, retching on the taste of death and decay. He sucked in a breath, breathing in the smoky scent of a wood burning fire. The sweet tang of nostalgia invaded his nose, bringing back a horrific memory.
He sat up, searching for the mirror that he knew sat in the corner of the cramped room. A younger version of himself stared back, head wrapped in bandages.
The dragon at the foot of the bed lifted her head, fearful of the sudden movement. It cooed and slithered closer to Lance, curling around his arm happily.
All seemed right with the world, and Lance forgot he was dreaming for a moment. He ran his hands down the dratini's scaly hide, fingers tracing the innumerable scars that marred the dragon's hide. The wound on her side had yet to heal and Lance wondered if the poison had faded yet.
The door burst open, and the aroma of cooking pecha berries wafting into the cramped bedroom. The shadow of a man stood in the door, blood dripping off his trembling hands. "What have you done?" the man asked, voice dripping with draconic power. The room seemed to reverberate with energy, echoes of power striking a chord within Lance himself. "You bring a feral into this home? Disrespect me?"
"No, you don't understand. She's not feral!" Lance said as the figure stepped into the room. He stepped in front of the trembling dratini, defiant before the monster in front of him. "Father, what have you done?" He peered past the shadow of a man blocking his doorway, finding the mangled corpse of his mother laying on the stone floors. "What have you done?!"
He knew what came next. Years had passed, and he would never forget the horror of that day. His father moved towards him, reaching out with one of his impossibly large hands. Lance struck fast and true, crushing the man's windpipe with a lightning-fast blow. The shadow of his father collapsed, clutching at his throat. The look of fear on his face seared into Lance's mind, pulling memories that he had long forgotten back to the surface.
The floor dropped out from beneath him, plunging him back into darkness. He slammed against the bars of a steel cage, the cold metal burning his skin with its very touch.
The air swirled with black currents of energy, an ominous chill running down Lance's spine. A dim blue flame illuminated the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls of the ancient chamber. The elders of Blackthorn sat in a circle around him, coldly watching his struggle from afar.
Lance strained against the cold steel, his hands screaming in pain as he pulled at the metal cage. He locked his eyes on one of the elders, an ember of draconic fire flickering to life in his chest. "Release me, " he demanded in a voice that rippled with power.
The elder's eyes opened and Lance's heart skipped a beat. The balding man's eyes were soulless black pits, devouring Lance's attention and sanity the longer he watched. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, swollen and black with rot. He drew in a slow, rattling breath that chilled Lance down to his core. "You are an abomination, like your father before you. The blood does not lie." The elder cocked his head to the side, viscous black tar falling from his putrid mouth. "Your recklessness has cost this council dearly, in reputation and resources."
The cage flung open, dropping Lance onto the ice-cold floor. He struggled to his feet, gravity dragging him down even as he attempted to rise. The cold seeped into his bones, and Lance could feel his strength fading as the blood of the dragon ran cold in his veins.
The elders spoke again, their voices joining together in an unholy chorus of decay. "You will no longer sully the name of the Wataru Clan." A rush of wind and a pained groan above him drew his attention. "You and your feral beast shall pay the price."
Betherian screeched in pain as her cage lowered from the blackness, a sound that Lance had never heard the dragon make. She slammed into the bars of the cage, thrashing about madly at the cold touch of the steel. Every thrash tore through armoured scales as of they were paper, showering Lance with thick globs of blood.
Lance fell to his knees, staring up at his caged dragon in dismay. "This is not real, " he said, a vain attempt to calm his own racing heart. "None of this is." He reached for his blade again, finding an empty sheath in its place. "And that includes me." He closed his eyes, calming his breathing until the sound of his heartbeat was the only sound he could hear. He closed his hand on the hilt of his blade, tearing it free of its sheath with a flourish.
"Impossible," droned the elders. The inky black ceiling swelled and undulated, ancient forces furious with Lance's defiance. "None can break free of the nightmare."
Lance raised his blade, the dragonblood quickening in his veins despite the cold. Johto had chosen him to be their champion, and he would not fall to some petty illusion. "Perhaps your nightmares work on lesser men, but I am no lesser man." He gripped his blade tighter, whipping his blood into a frenzy. He looked up at the caged dragon above him and grimaced, knowing what he had to do.
The cage opened, and Betherian landed in front of him. Her scales were decayed and rotten, turned a pale and sickly green instead of their usual vibrant orange. Her jaws hung open, the stench of decay wafting out over her swollen black tongue. The dragon's eyes were glazed over as it lazily looked down at the defiant tamer.
Lance reached out with his very soul, looking for the familiar sensation of Betherian's essence. He recoiled at the touch of a cold, dead void. Betherian growled a low gurgling noise that took him by surprise. Lance steeled himself for what was to come and planted his feet. "And that is no dragon."
The undead abomination before him roared as if to dispute that. It took a step towards him, its armoured claws thudding on the rough-hewn stone. It swiped at him, swinging wildly at the tamer.
Lance ducked under the attack, burying his own blade up to the hilt in the abomination's gut. Betherian shrieked in pain, mad cackling interspersed with the dying dragon's cries. The undead dragon's scales split open at the touch of Lance's blade, spewing a geyser of acidic blood onto the dragon tamer.
He leapt back, tearing his blade free and stepping back to look at the dragon's convulsing form. The illusion shattered, scales fading into a shadowy purple form. The gengar groaned, clawed arms clutching the gash in its belly.
"So they can be hurt in the dream, " Lance muttered. He jumped forward, driving his blade into the centre of the ghost. It wailed a mournful cry and dissolved into a steaming puddle of ectoplasm. Lance turned up his nose at the goo, turning away from the sickly smell.
The chamber shook violently, the darkness above Lance swirling madly. Clawed arms reached for him from the blackness, thick, smoking tar dripping from the points of each claw. Lance closed his eyes, ignoring the nightmares reaching for him from the shadows.
His throat and lungs burned, the poisonous smog ripping and tearing at his esophagus as he sucked down another breath. Lance opened his eyes, the flickers of dragonfire in his chest growing larger.
Agatha stared back at him as one of the gengar over her shoulders faded from existence. She scowled, looking down at the dragon tamer held in her grasp. "That's two of my wraiths that you've banished now, " she said coldly. She pulled him in closer, her hand still clamped down on his throat with an iron grip. "You will not have the chance to do so again."
Despite the fact that he was held by his throat hundreds of feet in the air, in a cloud of smog, with no sign of his dragon, Lance grinned. "Just watch me, " he choked, forcing the words out through Agatha's grasp.
Agatha sneered and released him, bringing a cackle of glee from her remaining ghost. He hung there for a moment, a tendril of shadowy energy holding him in place. Agatha smirked as she released him, content to let gravity do her work for her.
Lance felt the draconic power fade and fear take over as he plummeted away from Agatha. "Betherian!" he shouted, desperate for the dragon to hear him. He shouted again, his voice lost in the rush of wind.
An orange blur whizzed by, snagging his tattered cape in her jaws. Lance grunted in pain as he was violently jerked out of his fall. He grabbed tightly to his dragon's torso, clinging on for dear life as she flared her wings desperately.
Betherian spun in the air, slamming through the translucent barrier over the citadel and shattering it to pieces. She hit the dirt with force, roaring in pain as she skidded along the cobblestone. Dozens of men scrambled for cover as the dragon crashed through their formation and ground to a halt in the middle of the melee.
Lance stumbled to his feet, tearing his blade free of its sheath. Betherian stirred weakly, slowly lumbering back to her feet. She tested her wings and grunted in pain, one of her wings limply laying broken at her side.
"We'll get that looked after once this is over, " Lance said. He patted Betherian's side, grinning up at her despite the carnage surrounding them. "Thank you for catching me."
The dragonite looked down at him and snorted as if to ask what else she was supposed to do. Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing as she glared at the lone man who dared challenge them.
A bolt of lightning erupted from her horns, frying the man where he stood. Lance shook his head as the man collapsed, still convulsing madly as electricity coursed through him. All around them, the few remaining Kantoans fled on flying mounts as their morale finally broke. None dared to stay and fight in the presence of the dragonlord.
A chill ran down Lance's spine and he looked up. The sky ran black with rivers of shadows as the hordes of ghosts raced across the sky.
"Your Grace, " shouted a voice from the crowd of soldiers. Morty emerged from the bafflefield, his gengar hovering malevolently over his shoulder. Lance shuddered momentarily at the sight of the ghost, stopping himself before one of his men noticed the fear in their King. Morty looked up at the skies in dismay. "Is the Queen dead?"
"No, " he replied. "merely angry." He looked up at the sky, picking Agatha's floating form out of the shadows easily. "How goes the battle?"
"Their Lord Marshal has fallen, your turncoat did his job well," Morty said. "The rest of the remaining Kantoans fled the moment that you broke that barrier. The citadel has fallen and the battle is won." He looked up at the swarms of ghosts streaming through the sky and grimaced. "Although, those ghosts have devastated our armies. We can ill afford to continue our campaign into Kanto without returning home to gather more men."
Lance stared up at the sky, eyes locked onto Agatha as she approached. "The battle is not over, " he stated coldly. "The queen still lives."
Morty looked up, following Lance's gaze. He stepped back in horror as the sky blackened completely, plunging the ancient castle into darkness. Only the eerie glow of the fires burning throughout the city lent any light to the scene. "The King is here!" he shouted. "Defend the King!"
Lord Gold emerged from the ranks of men, his armour dented and leaking blood in several places. His pokemon stood at his sides, wounded and weary from their own battles with the Lord Marshal's pokemon. "Hold fast!" he shouted over the crowd. "Form up on me! The battle is nearly won." He turned to Lance, bowing his head with respect.
"Well done, " Lance said. "It seems my trust was well placed." He looked up at Agatha, and then back at Lord Gold. "Her army is scattered to the wind. She fights for survival, not her throne."
"Wrong, " Agatha boomed over the field. Faint cackling echoed under her voice, ringing in Lance's ears. "I fight for vengeance." She floated to the ground, gently borne on wisps of smoky black shadows. Her lone gengar glared at Betherian from above Agatha's shoulder with glowing red eyes. "You have taken everything from me."
"Then you will fall, " Lance replied. He stepped forward, the draconic embers in his chest roaring into an inferno. Betherian roared in response, challenging the ghost that dared stand before her. Lance spoke again, pure draconic power radiating off him in waves. "Your reign of terror is over."
Morty chanted in a forgotten tongue behind him, his mismagius mimicking every word in a demonic tone. A rotten yellow eye appeared, conjured by the medium and his ghost. The rotten eye opened, fixating on the Ghost Queen. Morty opened his eyes as the life drained from his face. "She is trapped, " he rasped. "The mean look will hold her here, though I can't say how long."
He raised his blade, staring down the Ghost Queen with the inferno of dragonfire smouldering in his chest. "This ends now, " he stated evenly. "I challenge you for the ri-"
Agatha shrieked and leapt forward, propelled by a jet of shadowy energy. A blade of stygian blackness formed in Agatha's hands, trailing a stream of black smoke behind her. Lance leapt from the Johtan line, determined to defend his countrymen. He shot through the air, propelled at superhuman speeds towards the medium. Their blades clashed together with a resounding crash, supernatural strength meeting with something not completely human.
Her gengar surged forward, a ball of shadows forming in its claws. It threw the ball of energy at the dragon where it splashed off armoured orange scales harmlessly. Betherian looked down at the ghost and snorted derisively. She lowered her head, blasting a bolt of lightning that carved a charred path towards the gengar. Agatha's ghost seemed to merge with the shadows, slinking away from the violent arcs of electricity.
Betherian roared again, incensed at her target's sudden disappearance. She reared her head back, azure flames spilling out of he maw. The dragonbreath washed over the darkness, bathing the battle in an eerie blue glow. The gengar's death screech tore through the courtyard, grating at the eardrums of everyone present as the flames ripped through its form. A horde of haunter and ghastly dove from the nightmare above, pinning the dragon to the ground and cutting off the blue flames.
Agatha slipped away again, melting back into the shadows where Lance could not follow. She appeared again, diving towards him on a current of black smoke. She scored a glancing blow on the inside of his left leg. Her momentum carried her past him, out of the reach of Lance's blade. She sank back into a shadow, disappearing from sight again.
"Stand and fight!" Lance commanded, swiping at Agatha's shadow as she faded into the darkness. His blade passed through nothing, striking the cobblestone streets as he carried through with his swing.
She leapt out of another shadow, feinting towards Lance's head. He bit on the feint and swung his blade up to intercept hers. She slipped under his guard, scoring a direct blow that bit through his armour and sliced a shallow cut on his stomach. He doubled over, clutching at the gash in his belly.
Agatha stepped out of the darkness in front of Lance, visibly gloating as he nursed his wound. "This is Johto's great champion?" she asked. "Afraid of the dark?" She tossed her head back, maniacal laughter ringing out over the silenced Johtan army.
Lance grunted, dropping to one knee. He could feel his hold on the dragonfires inside him slipping as he strained to control himself. The embers roared higher, and Lance let himself be lost in their inferno.
Betherian thrashed madly as her temper flared. A dull red glow emanated from the dragonite's orange scales, giving the dragon her own demonic appearance. Ghosts peeled away from her in waves, desperately fleeing from the enraged dragon's wrath.
"Betherian, outrage!" Lance ordered. He forced himself back to his feet, the same dull red glow burning off of him. Draconic power radiated off of him, giving him strength as his rage burned hotter.
His dragonite bellowed madly as she tore into the fleeing ghosts with reckless abandon. Every snap of her jaws and swipe of her claws showered her surroundings with another spray of dark purple blood. Ghosts fell to her like wheat before a scythe, drenching her claws in gooey ectoplasm.
Agatha shrieked, turning her back on Lance. She reached out to the fleeing ghosts, bringing them back under her thrall with practised ease. She pointed at Betherian with a blood-curdling shriek, all her anger and attention aimed at the dragon.
The fleeing ghosts turned on a dime, hurtling back towards the dragon with self-preservation forgotten. She cut through the swarm even as their shadow claws tore through her hide, her rage blocking out the pain as she continued her rampage.
Lance's blade sprouted from Agatha's chest with a spray of blood. Her body slumped back onto his blade as she desperately attempted to suck down a breath. Betherian looked up from the slaughter, bloodlust clouding her eyes.
Lance forced his blade deeper, burying it up to the hilt in Agatha's back. The ghosts mauling his dragon stopped their assault, turning and regarding the scene curiously. He cradled her body against his, his lips inches from her ear as the ghosts started to approach. "Never turn your back on an opponent. Not until he lays dead at your feet."
She gurgled a response, words lost in the bubble of blood that spurted from her mouth. Lance stepped back, tearing his blade free with a violent flourish. Agatha dropped to her knees, eyes fearfully locked on the ghosts converging on her. She raised an arm, a stream of shadows lazily snaking out of the palm of her hand.
A particularly brave haunter darted forward, knocking aside Agatha's fading resistance with ease. She raised her arm fearfully, a final vain attempt to defend herself. The ghost pounced, ripping and tearing at her flesh with its claws. The swarm of ghosts descended on their former master, ripping her to pieces as she shrieked in pain.
Lance averted his eyes, unable to watch as the ghosts dragged their master back to whatever demonic plane of existence they came from. He didn't dare look until the mad cackling of a thousand ghosts faded and the chill left his spine.
The sun poked through the clouds, still labouring above one of the peaks surrounding the plateau. Lance looked at the place Agatha had fallen, noticing only the inky black stain left behind.
"Your Grace, " Morty started, hope filling his voice with warmth. "It is done."
Lance looked to the sky, the images of Agatha's nightmares still burning in his mind. "No, " he replied. "This city still writhes in pain. Agatha killed many by summoning her army."
Lord Gold stepped forward, favouring his wounded leg and limping slightly. "Much of our army was outside the barrier when the ghosts attacked. I recommend that we rest here, at least until we know the extent of the carnage."
Lance nodded, a tired smile worn on his face. "Very well then, " he said. "We rest here. At least for now." He looked up at Betherian, allowing himself to savour the victory.
His dragon lowered her head, sniffing at the rent in the King's gilded armour. She growled softly, sniffing at the blood leaking from his belly cautiously. She growled pointedly, as if to chide Lance for his sloppiness.
"I know, " he said, exhaustion creeping into his voice. "Seems as if I've gone soft, " he said. He closed his eyes and toppled to the side, his legs buckling from blood loss. He felt hands grabbing at him, tearing his armour off in a hurry. Frantic shouts and angry voices faded into nothingness, and then he felt nothing at all.
