Jasmine is searching for a missing Light Stone when from the shadows a dragon of poison arises
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Prophecy of Birth: the Hero and the Hybrid
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discovery 1.1
Jasmine's P.O.V.
I shook my head, my vision swimming from the aftereffects of yet another intense battle. A bright, piercing light enveloped me, blurring the chaotic battlefield into nothingness. For a fleeting moment, I saw myself—truly saw myself—reflected in the mirrored surface of the Dragonites' incoming attacks. What stared back wasn't just me. It was a form so profoundly alien yet deeply familiar that I felt an ache of recognition in my very soul.
A long, serpentine tail extended from the base of my spine, shimmering red and white with intricate orange accents. The golden crown that sprouted from my head bore a tiny bud-like coronet, radiant with an ancient authority I hadn't fully understood until now. Emblazoned across my chest was the Galarian Royal Family's coat of arms, a striking symbol of lineage and power. My hands—oh, my hands—had transformed as well. My right palm held a scepter-like growth, a perfect replica of a globus cruciger, while my left carried a curious counterpart, an orb brimming with light. My yellow-green eyes, though unmistakably mine, had taken on a surreal quality, their red pupils sharpening my vision to impossible clarity.
Through this heightened sight, I could see Lance's Dragonite soaring into position, preparing a Sky Attack as another lunged at me with Dragon Claw. I twisted my body, instinctively summoning a coiled vine from the ground. With a flick, I hurled the attacker into the stone walls, the impact reverberating like a thunderclap. Without hesitation, I unleashed a devastating steel-type blast from my palms, shredding their scales with terrifying precision.
The chaos wasn't new. The interruptions, however, were.
Chairman Rose, his smug expression as infuriating as ever, materialized in the corner of the arena, his words lost amidst the din. I silenced him before he could interfere, subduing him with a simple gesture that sapped his will to fight. My anger boiled over, memories of his machinations with Eternatus flashing before me—his plague of Shadow Pokémon, his disdain for the powerless, and his betrayal of the trust Galar had once placed in him. Without pause, I whisked him away to the royal courts of Galar.
My father, King Darius, presided over Rose's trial, the weight of his anger palpable. I ensured that Rose, stripped of his pretenses, confessed every vile deed under the compulsion of truth and the weight of undeniable evidence. When the verdict was passed—high treason—the punishment was swift. Zacian herself took up the mantle of executioner, her blade flashing once before all fell silent.
In the aftermath, I stood amidst the ruins of my battle, grappling with the echoes of what I had become. Zacian called me her granddaughter, her words laden with an affection I had scarcely allowed myself to feel. Calyrex, in his imposing majesty, called me his daughter. A part of me resisted the titles, but another part—a buried instinct I could no longer ignore—accepted them as inevitable truths. I was half divine, half human, an embodiment of ancient power and mortal fragility.
That night, I teleported to my home, my mind whirling with fragments of the day's events. Lance waited for me on the front steps, his gaze heavy with questions, but I brushed past him and collapsed into my bed. Sleep took me like a tidal wave, pulling me into its depths.
When dawn broke, I forced myself back into the rhythm of normal life. School was uneventful—until recreation.
That was when everything shattered.
The spirits of long-dead children rose, their spectral forms twisted by the cursed flames of a Chandelure. Their mournful Perish Song echoed across the grounds, chilling me to the core. My classmates froze in terror as the haunting melody threatened to drag them into an eternal slumber. Acting quickly, I invoked a ritual I barely understood, one gifted to me by the Blinding One himself—Necrozma. As the Lord of the Grave lent his authority, I banished the spirits back to their eternal prison.
The questions came, relentless and overwhelming. I answered them as best I could, though many fell silent at the mention of Necrozma's title. Only the students from Ultra Megalopolis seemed to grasp its significance, whispering prayers to the Luminari under their breath.
Later, Zinnia approached me, her sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity and warmth. "Lunch together?" she asked. "And maybe some training?"
I agreed, on the condition we trained far from prying eyes. By the afternoon, we found ourselves in an abandoned shrine dedicated to Necrozma, its halls teeming with Ghost Pokémon. A poorly disguised Litwick tried to ambush us, but I dispatched it with a Prismatic Laser, the radiant beam leaving a scorched smear on the wall.
Zinnia was already mid-fight, weaving through shadows and invoking her Authority over dreams. With effortless precision, she unleashed a boosted Dream Eater, siphoning the strength of a wandering Gengar. Meanwhile, I gathered shadows into my palms, forming an absence of light so deep it devoured everything in its path. As spectral guardians emerged to aid me, the shrine glowed with an eerie brilliance—light and shadow locked in perfect harmony.
By the time we finished, the shrine lay silent, save for the whispers of old legends. It was a reminder of the worlds we straddled—the mortal and the divine, the ordinary and the extraordinary. As I walked back home, the weight of my heritage pressed against me, but I held my head high.
I shook my head, my vision swimming from the aftereffects of yet another intense battle. A bright, piercing light enveloped me, blurring the chaotic battlefield into nothingness. For a fleeting moment, I saw myself—truly saw myself—reflected in the mirrored surface of the Dragonites' incoming attacks. What stared back wasn't just me. It was a form so profoundly alien yet deeply familiar that I felt an ache of recognition in my very soul.
A long, serpentine tail extended from the base of my spine, shimmering red and white with intricate orange accents. The golden crown that sprouted from my head bore a tiny bud-like coronet, radiant with an ancient authority I hadn't fully understood until now. Emblazoned across my chest was the Galarian Royal Family's coat of arms, a striking symbol of lineage and power. My hands—oh, my hands—had transformed as well. My right palm held a scepter-like growth, a perfect replica of a globus cruciger, while my left carried a curious counterpart, an orb brimming with light. My yellow-green eyes, though unmistakably mine, had taken on a surreal quality, their red pupils sharpening my vision to impossible clarity.
Through this heightened sight, I could see Lance's Dragonite soaring into position, preparing a Sky Attack as another lunged at me with Dragon Claw. I twisted my body, instinctively summoning a coiled vine from the ground. With a flick, I hurled the attacker into the stone walls, the impact reverberating like a thunderclap. Without hesitation, I unleashed a devastating steel-type blast from my palms, shredding their scales with terrifying precision.
The chaos wasn't new. The interruptions, however, were.
Chairman Rose, his smug expression as infuriating as ever, materialized in the corner of the arena, his words lost amidst the din. I silenced him before he could interfere, subduing him with a simple gesture that sapped his will to fight. My anger boiled over, memories of his machinations with Eternatus flashing before me—his plague of Shadow Pokémon, his disdain for the powerless, and his betrayal of the trust Galar had once placed in him. Without pause, I whisked him away to the royal courts of Galar.
My father, King Darius, presided over Rose's trial, the weight of his anger palpable. I ensured that Rose, stripped of his pretenses, confessed every vile deed under the compulsion of truth and the weight of undeniable evidence. When the verdict was passed—high treason—the punishment was swift. Zacian herself took up the mantle of executioner, her blade flashing once before all fell silent.
In the aftermath, I stood amidst the ruins of my battle, grappling with the echoes of what I had become. Zacian called me her granddaughter, her words laden with an affection I had scarcely allowed myself to feel. Calyrex, in his imposing majesty, called me his daughter. A part of me resisted the titles, but another part—a buried instinct I could no longer ignore—accepted them as inevitable truths. I was half divine, half human, an embodiment of ancient power and mortal fragility.
That night, I teleported to my home, my mind whirling with fragments of the day's events. Lance waited for me on the front steps, his gaze heavy with questions, but I brushed past him and collapsed into my bed. Sleep took me like a tidal wave, pulling me into its depths.
When dawn broke, I forced myself back into the rhythm of normal life. School was uneventful—until recreation.
That was when everything shattered.
The spirits of long-dead children rose, their spectral forms twisted by the cursed flames of a Chandelure. Their mournful Perish Song echoed across the grounds, chilling me to the core. My classmates froze in terror as the haunting melody threatened to drag them into an eternal slumber. Acting quickly, I invoked a ritual I barely understood, one gifted to me by the Blinding One himself—Necrozma. As the Lord of the Grave lent his authority, I banished the spirits back to their eternal prison.
The questions came, relentless and overwhelming. I answered them as best I could, though many fell silent at the mention of Necrozma's title. Only the students from Ultra Megalopolis seemed to grasp its significance, whispering prayers to the Luminari under their breath.
Later, Zinnia approached me, her sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity and warmth. "Lunch together?" she asked. "And maybe some training?"
I agreed, on the condition we trained far from prying eyes. By the afternoon, we found ourselves in an abandoned shrine dedicated to Necrozma, its halls teeming with Ghost Pokémon. A poorly disguised Litwick tried to ambush us, but I dispatched it with a Prismatic Laser, the radiant beam leaving a scorched smear on the wall.
Zinnia was already mid-fight, weaving through shadows and invoking her Authority over dreams. With effortless precision, she unleashed a boosted Dream Eater, siphoning the strength of a wandering Gengar. Meanwhile, I gathered shadows into my palms, forming an absence of light so deep it devoured everything in its path. As spectral guardians emerged to aid me, the shrine glowed with an eerie brilliance—light and shadow locked in perfect harmony.
By the time we finished, the shrine lay silent, save for the whispers of old legends. It was a reminder of the worlds we straddled—the mortal and the divine, the ordinary and the extraordinary. As I walked back home, the weight of my heritage pressed against me, but I held my head high.
discovery 1.2
The air shimmered with heat as my Authority raged unchecked, my connection to Lugia's inheritance deepening with every breath. The firestorm I conjured blazed with a terrifying beauty, its blue flames hotter than the sun's core. It wasn't just fire—it was a manifestation of the cosmic Authority passed through lines more mystical than blood, an inheritance that cared little for biology and much for destiny.
My classmates huddled in a corner, whispers spreading like wildfire. Their words carried confusion, awe, and fear. They didn't understand, couldn't grasp that those born from Legendaries or Mythicals were destined to transcend mortality. The flames weren't mere destruction—they were purification, a force of nature aligning itself to my will.
As the air grew heavy and devoid of oxygen, the flames did not falter. Instead, they consumed the very fabric of spiritual malice, purging the ancient, hateful spirits that haunted this place. I released Touch of Limos' King, a spell born of my Authority over hunger—not for food, but for absolution. The spirits twisted, screaming as starvation of their hatred tore them apart.
The ground beneath me crackled with eldritch energy. Black flames—holy flames—crawled outward, devouring their corrupted forms and sending them to Giratina. In his graveyard domain, they would find judgment and rest. My eyes, blacker than void, reflected their torment as my hands shone with a haunting light. Yet, my heart was steady. This was mercy.
At the center of the room, I knelt before an improvised altar, hastily crafted but wholly consecrated to Celebi, the Voice of the Forest. Before me lay a Shadow Gossifleur, its petals curled and dark with malice. My prayers wove through the air, songs of old forgotten tongues asking Celebi to bless this space. The incense burner filled the room with the scent of renewal, its smoke curling into the corrupted Pokémon's form.
It shrieked—a terrible sound—but the shadows fled. Celebi's green light flickered for a moment, a fleeting presence that left a renewed Gossifleur in its wake. I offered freshly plucked berries to the Forest Guardian, gratitude spilling from my lips. The earth trembled in approval, a subtle sign that Celebi had accepted.
Then, far beyond the school's grounds, fireworks erupted in the sky, their vibrant bursts tinged with an ominous red glow. My heart sank as I felt the unmistakable surge of Dynamax Energy. Someone—foolish and reckless—had disturbed Eternatus. The resulting chaos was immediate, Pokémon driven to madness by the particles, tearing their trainer apart before dispersing into the wilds to create new Dynamax Dens.
The next day, the classroom quaked as though the building itself sought to flee from an unseen terror. The Shattered Shell also called the Distortion World, and an imprisoned within it abomination from another reality, clawed at the edges of this one. My classmates, desperate for forbidden knowledge, had begged me to show them a glimpse of the void. I had warned them—warned them of the cost—but curiosity proved their undoing.
As the gaping void opened, those who stared into it fell to their knees, their minds unraveling in the face of its imprisoned horror. Acting swiftly, I drew upon my Authority to cure their poisoned thoughts, though not without effort. My eyes burned orange, the twenty type icons spinning around me in a delicate dance of equilibrium.
Reality rippled as I transported the crumbling parts of the school into an alternate timeline, restoring the present in its stead. The Dragon Tongue rolled from my lips, a language so ancient and potent that every syllable carried the weight of creation itself. I swore an oath, binding my actions to the will of all gods, known and unknown. To break it would invite their collective wrath—a punishment worse than death.
But the threat wasn't over. The air shimmered once more as faint traces of Dynamax Particles remained, invisible to most. Only Zinnia and I, attuned as we were to the nuances of energy and fate, saw the danger. Together, we purified the air before anyone noticed the building pressure. A single mistake, a moment's delay, and the Pokémon nearby would have started Dynamaxing uncontrollably, turning this sanctuary into a battlefield.
The day ended in eerie silence, but the tension lingered. Somewhere, deep in the shadows, a poison dragon stirred. Its presence was faint but unmistakable. My Authority warned me of its approach, its hunger. This was no ordinary dragon—it was something ancient, corrupted, and vengeful.
My classmates huddled in a corner, whispers spreading like wildfire. Their words carried confusion, awe, and fear. They didn't understand, couldn't grasp that those born from Legendaries or Mythicals were destined to transcend mortality. The flames weren't mere destruction—they were purification, a force of nature aligning itself to my will.
As the air grew heavy and devoid of oxygen, the flames did not falter. Instead, they consumed the very fabric of spiritual malice, purging the ancient, hateful spirits that haunted this place. I released Touch of Limos' King, a spell born of my Authority over hunger—not for food, but for absolution. The spirits twisted, screaming as starvation of their hatred tore them apart.
The ground beneath me crackled with eldritch energy. Black flames—holy flames—crawled outward, devouring their corrupted forms and sending them to Giratina. In his graveyard domain, they would find judgment and rest. My eyes, blacker than void, reflected their torment as my hands shone with a haunting light. Yet, my heart was steady. This was mercy.
At the center of the room, I knelt before an improvised altar, hastily crafted but wholly consecrated to Celebi, the Voice of the Forest. Before me lay a Shadow Gossifleur, its petals curled and dark with malice. My prayers wove through the air, songs of old forgotten tongues asking Celebi to bless this space. The incense burner filled the room with the scent of renewal, its smoke curling into the corrupted Pokémon's form.
It shrieked—a terrible sound—but the shadows fled. Celebi's green light flickered for a moment, a fleeting presence that left a renewed Gossifleur in its wake. I offered freshly plucked berries to the Forest Guardian, gratitude spilling from my lips. The earth trembled in approval, a subtle sign that Celebi had accepted.
Then, far beyond the school's grounds, fireworks erupted in the sky, their vibrant bursts tinged with an ominous red glow. My heart sank as I felt the unmistakable surge of Dynamax Energy. Someone—foolish and reckless—had disturbed Eternatus. The resulting chaos was immediate, Pokémon driven to madness by the particles, tearing their trainer apart before dispersing into the wilds to create new Dynamax Dens.
The next day, the classroom quaked as though the building itself sought to flee from an unseen terror. The Shattered Shell also called the Distortion World, and an imprisoned within it abomination from another reality, clawed at the edges of this one. My classmates, desperate for forbidden knowledge, had begged me to show them a glimpse of the void. I had warned them—warned them of the cost—but curiosity proved their undoing.
As the gaping void opened, those who stared into it fell to their knees, their minds unraveling in the face of its imprisoned horror. Acting swiftly, I drew upon my Authority to cure their poisoned thoughts, though not without effort. My eyes burned orange, the twenty type icons spinning around me in a delicate dance of equilibrium.
Reality rippled as I transported the crumbling parts of the school into an alternate timeline, restoring the present in its stead. The Dragon Tongue rolled from my lips, a language so ancient and potent that every syllable carried the weight of creation itself. I swore an oath, binding my actions to the will of all gods, known and unknown. To break it would invite their collective wrath—a punishment worse than death.
But the threat wasn't over. The air shimmered once more as faint traces of Dynamax Particles remained, invisible to most. Only Zinnia and I, attuned as we were to the nuances of energy and fate, saw the danger. Together, we purified the air before anyone noticed the building pressure. A single mistake, a moment's delay, and the Pokémon nearby would have started Dynamaxing uncontrollably, turning this sanctuary into a battlefield.
The day ended in eerie silence, but the tension lingered. Somewhere, deep in the shadows, a poison dragon stirred. Its presence was faint but unmistakable. My Authority warned me of its approach, its hunger. This was no ordinary dragon—it was something ancient, corrupted, and vengeful.
Discovery 1.3
Sabrina's P.O.V.
Jasmine had always been extraordinary, even as a child. There was a quiet intensity about her—a presence that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. Though we'd remained close over the years, constantly writing, calling, and sharing pieces of our lives, seeing her now was different. The Jasmine I had always known was still there, but she was more.
Much more.
The air around her felt charged, like the calm before a thunderstorm, carrying a weight I couldn't ignore. My psychic senses, always attuned to the unseen, buzzed as if trying to decipher her essence. It was instinctive, automatic, and something I usually managed to suppress. But with Jasmine, the hum of perception slipped free, revealing her astral form—not as she was physically, but as her soul existed on a higher plane.
Her presence was overwhelming, forcing my mind to clothe her in symbolism so I could process her without unraveling. The light around her didn't just reflect—it bent, twisted, and fractured, breaking into patterns that defied logic. Her form shimmered, never static, shifting between glimpses of familiarity and something far beyond human. The faint impression of scales glimmered along her limbs, like fractured crystal catching starlight, but they moved like fluid, folding in and out of view.
Her face—oh, her face. It was Jasmine, unmistakably, but unnervingly still, too perfect in its symmetry, too composed. Her eyes were the most alien thing about her, glowing with cold, unfeeling light. They weren't just eyes; they were voids through which distant stars flickered, galaxies spiraling in slow, majestic dances. They watched me as much as they watched everything else, taking in all at once, yet revealing nothing.
Her movements were graceful yet wrong, like the sway of deep-sea creatures in water too dark for sunlight. Every step carried a strange rhythm, deliberate but slightly out of sync with the world around her. The edges of her form flickered, as though she existed on the borders of multiple realities at once.
This was Jasmine. My Jasmine. My friend since childhood. And yet, she wasn't.
I suppressed a shudder and tried to focus. Jasmine was calm, perfectly at ease, and perhaps even amused by my unease. Her voice broke through my thoughts, steady and familiar. "You're humming again, Sabrina. What do you see?"
I hesitated, reluctant to put what I saw into words. She wouldn't mind—not really—but how could I explain something that barely made sense to me? "Light," I said finally. "Fractured light. And shadows that don't belong to you."
She tilted her head slightly, and for a moment, her crown caught my attention. It wasn't physical—it floated above her head like a ghost, shifting shards of crystal flickering with an unnatural brilliance. There was something harsh about it, like light refracted through broken glass. It reminded me of Necrozma's influence, jagged and alive.
She smiled faintly. "That's all?"
"No," I admitted. "But it's enough."
Jasmine's calm, composed demeanor didn't waver as I described the vision that had haunted me for days. A shadowy figure, their ambition limitless, reaching for the Azoth—the primal essence of creation itself. The vision had been sharp and vivid, filled with dread and the unmistakable scent of sin. To touch the Azoth, the ever-flowing Aether of Arceus, was to challenge the balance of existence itself.
"They think they can take it," I said, my voice low. "Control it. Bend it to their will. And if they succeed…"
"They won't," Jasmine replied simply.
The certainty in her voice gave me pause. "You don't sound worried."
She shook her head, her gaze distant. "I'm not. The Azoth isn't something that can be stolen or controlled. It's a part of Arceus, inseparable from the flow of the universe. Even attempting to claim it…" She trailed off, her voice softening. "It's enough to bring judgment."
"Zygarde and Giratina," I murmured, the names heavy with meaning.
"And Arceus," she added. "This isn't a battle anyone can fight, Sabrina. Not me, not you, not even the strongest Champion. The Azoth belongs to Arceus alone. Anyone who tries to claim it will find themselves undone."
Her words carried the weight of someone who understood the stakes far better than I ever could. Jasmine wasn't just speaking as my friend; she was speaking as someone who stood at the threshold of divinity, a being who straddled the line between mortal and something far greater.
"Then what do we do?" I asked.
She leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful. "We wait. We watch. And if the balance begins to tip, the world will correct itself."
Her calmness unsettled me, but I knew she was right. Jasmine's power was vast, incomprehensible, but even she couldn't meddle in the affairs of the Azoth. It was a force beyond gods and demigods, something sacred and untouchable.
As silence settled between us, I couldn't help but feel the weight of inevitability. Someone would try. Someone always did. And when they failed, the world would bear the scars of their ambition.
But Jasmine… Jasmine would endure. She always did.
Jasmine had always been extraordinary, even as a child. There was a quiet intensity about her—a presence that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. Though we'd remained close over the years, constantly writing, calling, and sharing pieces of our lives, seeing her now was different. The Jasmine I had always known was still there, but she was more.
Much more.
The air around her felt charged, like the calm before a thunderstorm, carrying a weight I couldn't ignore. My psychic senses, always attuned to the unseen, buzzed as if trying to decipher her essence. It was instinctive, automatic, and something I usually managed to suppress. But with Jasmine, the hum of perception slipped free, revealing her astral form—not as she was physically, but as her soul existed on a higher plane.
Her presence was overwhelming, forcing my mind to clothe her in symbolism so I could process her without unraveling. The light around her didn't just reflect—it bent, twisted, and fractured, breaking into patterns that defied logic. Her form shimmered, never static, shifting between glimpses of familiarity and something far beyond human. The faint impression of scales glimmered along her limbs, like fractured crystal catching starlight, but they moved like fluid, folding in and out of view.
Her face—oh, her face. It was Jasmine, unmistakably, but unnervingly still, too perfect in its symmetry, too composed. Her eyes were the most alien thing about her, glowing with cold, unfeeling light. They weren't just eyes; they were voids through which distant stars flickered, galaxies spiraling in slow, majestic dances. They watched me as much as they watched everything else, taking in all at once, yet revealing nothing.
Her movements were graceful yet wrong, like the sway of deep-sea creatures in water too dark for sunlight. Every step carried a strange rhythm, deliberate but slightly out of sync with the world around her. The edges of her form flickered, as though she existed on the borders of multiple realities at once.
This was Jasmine. My Jasmine. My friend since childhood. And yet, she wasn't.
I suppressed a shudder and tried to focus. Jasmine was calm, perfectly at ease, and perhaps even amused by my unease. Her voice broke through my thoughts, steady and familiar. "You're humming again, Sabrina. What do you see?"
I hesitated, reluctant to put what I saw into words. She wouldn't mind—not really—but how could I explain something that barely made sense to me? "Light," I said finally. "Fractured light. And shadows that don't belong to you."
She tilted her head slightly, and for a moment, her crown caught my attention. It wasn't physical—it floated above her head like a ghost, shifting shards of crystal flickering with an unnatural brilliance. There was something harsh about it, like light refracted through broken glass. It reminded me of Necrozma's influence, jagged and alive.
She smiled faintly. "That's all?"
"No," I admitted. "But it's enough."
Jasmine's calm, composed demeanor didn't waver as I described the vision that had haunted me for days. A shadowy figure, their ambition limitless, reaching for the Azoth—the primal essence of creation itself. The vision had been sharp and vivid, filled with dread and the unmistakable scent of sin. To touch the Azoth, the ever-flowing Aether of Arceus, was to challenge the balance of existence itself.
"They think they can take it," I said, my voice low. "Control it. Bend it to their will. And if they succeed…"
"They won't," Jasmine replied simply.
The certainty in her voice gave me pause. "You don't sound worried."
She shook her head, her gaze distant. "I'm not. The Azoth isn't something that can be stolen or controlled. It's a part of Arceus, inseparable from the flow of the universe. Even attempting to claim it…" She trailed off, her voice softening. "It's enough to bring judgment."
"Zygarde and Giratina," I murmured, the names heavy with meaning.
"And Arceus," she added. "This isn't a battle anyone can fight, Sabrina. Not me, not you, not even the strongest Champion. The Azoth belongs to Arceus alone. Anyone who tries to claim it will find themselves undone."
Her words carried the weight of someone who understood the stakes far better than I ever could. Jasmine wasn't just speaking as my friend; she was speaking as someone who stood at the threshold of divinity, a being who straddled the line between mortal and something far greater.
"Then what do we do?" I asked.
She leaned back slightly, her expression thoughtful. "We wait. We watch. And if the balance begins to tip, the world will correct itself."
Her calmness unsettled me, but I knew she was right. Jasmine's power was vast, incomprehensible, but even she couldn't meddle in the affairs of the Azoth. It was a force beyond gods and demigods, something sacred and untouchable.
As silence settled between us, I couldn't help but feel the weight of inevitability. Someone would try. Someone always did. And when they failed, the world would bear the scars of their ambition.
But Jasmine… Jasmine would endure. She always did.
discovery 1.4
Jasmine smiled at me—a faint, alien expression that still carried echoes of familiarity. Her form seemed to settle, the constant rippling of her edges slowing, the kaleidoscopic light dimming slightly. It wasn't any less overwhelming, but it felt as though she was consciously trying to meet me halfway, grounding herself just enough to make me feel less like I was standing on the edge of oblivion.
"So," she said, her voice light but still resonant, vibrating in the air around us. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
I blinked, trying to shake off the psychic hum in my skull that her presence still stirred. "A while? Jasmine, you vanished when we were kids. You disappeared, and no one knew where you went. I thought—" My voice cracked, the emotions I'd buried rushing to the surface. "I thought you were dead."
She tilted her head in that same unsettling way, but her expression softened, her too-large eyes holding something that felt achingly close to regret. "I wasn't dead," she said simply. "But I wasn't really alive in the way you'd remember, either. I had to go. There were... things I needed to learn. Things I couldn't stay here to understand."
"Things?" I echoed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "You could've told me, Jasmine. You could've said something, anything. Instead, you just left."
She sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of galaxies. "I wanted to, Sabrina. But how could I explain something I didn't fully understand? I wasn't just some girl anymore. Something in me was waking up, something ancient, and it wasn't safe for me—or for you."
I narrowed my eyes, trying to process her words. "What are you talking about?"
She hesitated, her gaze flickering as though she was searching for the right words. Finally, she said, "Do you remember when we were little? When I told you about the strange dreams I kept having? Of places that didn't exist? Of stars and endless light?"
I nodded slowly. I remembered. She'd spoken about those dreams so casually back then, as if they were just an odd quirk of her imagination. But now, I could see the weight they'd carried, even then.
"They weren't dreams," she said. "They were memories. Fragments of something buried deep inside me. Something I didn't understand until... until recently." She paused, her crystalline crown flickering faintly as though it, too, were alive. "I've awakened, Sabrina. Fully. And now I know the truth. I am the daughter of Calyrex and Necrozma."
The words hung in the air between us, impossibly heavy. For a moment, I could only stare at her, the meaning of what she'd said refusing to fully settle in my mind.
"Calyrex," I repeated slowly. "The Sovereign King of Harvests. And Necrozma—the Prism Pokémon, the Devourer of Light. You're saying they're... your parents?"
"Yes," she said simply, as if the statement were as mundane as mentioning the weather. "It's why I've always been different. Why I've always felt this... this pull toward the stars, toward things I couldn't explain. My very existence is a convergence of light and life, of balance and destruction."
My mouth opened, but no words came out. How was I supposed to respond to that? This was Jasmine, the same Jasmine who once dared me to climb the tallest tree in the forest, now telling me she was the child of two beings so ancient and powerful that even my psychic powers couldn't fully comprehend them.
"I don't... I don't understand," I finally managed. "How? How does someone even become the child of beings like that? And why didn't you know until now?"
She offered me a faint smile, though it still carried that unnerving vastness. "I wasn't ready to know. My human life—the life I had with you—was only a fragment of what I was meant to be. My true self was locked away, dormant, until the time was right. And when it woke up... I remembered everything. My lineage. My purpose. Who I truly am."
"And what is that?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Who are you, Jasmine?"
Her gaze softened, the light in her eyes dimming just enough for me to hold it. "I'm still me, Sabrina. I'm still the girl who ran barefoot through the grass with you and laughed at your terrible jokes. But I'm also more. I'm a bridge between worlds, between life and light, between the mortal and the celestial."
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of what she was saying. "A bridge to what?"
"To balance," she said simply. "To harmony—or to destruction, if I'm not careful. That's why the mask exists. It's a kindness, Sabrina. It lets me walk among mortals without overwhelming them. Without hurting them. Without hurting you."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "And if you didn't wear it?"
Her gaze shifted, the swirling starlight in her pupils darkening ever so slightly. "You've seen enough to know the answer to that."
I had. Even with the mask, even with my psychic powers filtering her true form into something I could comprehend, her presence was almost too much to bear. If the mask fell completely, I knew I wouldn't survive the encounter. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
"I still don't understand," I said quietly. "Why are you here now? Why come back after all this time?"
Her crystalline crown flickered, and for the first time, I saw something in her expression that looked like hesitation. "Because the Azoth is in danger," she said. "Because someone is trying to take control of the celestial Aether—the power of Arceus itself. And if they succeed, everything we know will unravel."
Her words struck me like a physical blow, the weight of them settling in my chest. "You came back to stop them," I realized.
She nodded. "I came back because I need your help."
I stared at her, my mind racing. Jasmine—the girl who was and is my closest friend, who had now awakened to something so far beyond me I could barely comprehend it—was asking for my help. And even though I didn't fully understand what I was stepping into, I knew I couldn't say no.
"Okay," I said finally, my voice steadier than I expected. "I'll help you."
Her smile widened, and for a moment, I saw the Jasmine I remembered—bright, warm, and full of life. "Thank you, Sabrina," she said. "I knew I could count on you."
And as she spoke, the hum of my psychic powers softened, as if the universe itself had acknowledged the bond we still shared.
"So," she said, her voice light but still resonant, vibrating in the air around us. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
I blinked, trying to shake off the psychic hum in my skull that her presence still stirred. "A while? Jasmine, you vanished when we were kids. You disappeared, and no one knew where you went. I thought—" My voice cracked, the emotions I'd buried rushing to the surface. "I thought you were dead."
She tilted her head in that same unsettling way, but her expression softened, her too-large eyes holding something that felt achingly close to regret. "I wasn't dead," she said simply. "But I wasn't really alive in the way you'd remember, either. I had to go. There were... things I needed to learn. Things I couldn't stay here to understand."
"Things?" I echoed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "You could've told me, Jasmine. You could've said something, anything. Instead, you just left."
She sighed—a sound that seemed to carry the weight of galaxies. "I wanted to, Sabrina. But how could I explain something I didn't fully understand? I wasn't just some girl anymore. Something in me was waking up, something ancient, and it wasn't safe for me—or for you."
I narrowed my eyes, trying to process her words. "What are you talking about?"
She hesitated, her gaze flickering as though she was searching for the right words. Finally, she said, "Do you remember when we were little? When I told you about the strange dreams I kept having? Of places that didn't exist? Of stars and endless light?"
I nodded slowly. I remembered. She'd spoken about those dreams so casually back then, as if they were just an odd quirk of her imagination. But now, I could see the weight they'd carried, even then.
"They weren't dreams," she said. "They were memories. Fragments of something buried deep inside me. Something I didn't understand until... until recently." She paused, her crystalline crown flickering faintly as though it, too, were alive. "I've awakened, Sabrina. Fully. And now I know the truth. I am the daughter of Calyrex and Necrozma."
The words hung in the air between us, impossibly heavy. For a moment, I could only stare at her, the meaning of what she'd said refusing to fully settle in my mind.
"Calyrex," I repeated slowly. "The Sovereign King of Harvests. And Necrozma—the Prism Pokémon, the Devourer of Light. You're saying they're... your parents?"
"Yes," she said simply, as if the statement were as mundane as mentioning the weather. "It's why I've always been different. Why I've always felt this... this pull toward the stars, toward things I couldn't explain. My very existence is a convergence of light and life, of balance and destruction."
My mouth opened, but no words came out. How was I supposed to respond to that? This was Jasmine, the same Jasmine who once dared me to climb the tallest tree in the forest, now telling me she was the child of two beings so ancient and powerful that even my psychic powers couldn't fully comprehend them.
"I don't... I don't understand," I finally managed. "How? How does someone even become the child of beings like that? And why didn't you know until now?"
She offered me a faint smile, though it still carried that unnerving vastness. "I wasn't ready to know. My human life—the life I had with you—was only a fragment of what I was meant to be. My true self was locked away, dormant, until the time was right. And when it woke up... I remembered everything. My lineage. My purpose. Who I truly am."
"And what is that?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Who are you, Jasmine?"
Her gaze softened, the light in her eyes dimming just enough for me to hold it. "I'm still me, Sabrina. I'm still the girl who ran barefoot through the grass with you and laughed at your terrible jokes. But I'm also more. I'm a bridge between worlds, between life and light, between the mortal and the celestial."
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around the enormity of what she was saying. "A bridge to what?"
"To balance," she said simply. "To harmony—or to destruction, if I'm not careful. That's why the mask exists. It's a kindness, Sabrina. It lets me walk among mortals without overwhelming them. Without hurting them. Without hurting you."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "And if you didn't wear it?"
Her gaze shifted, the swirling starlight in her pupils darkening ever so slightly. "You've seen enough to know the answer to that."
I had. Even with the mask, even with my psychic powers filtering her true form into something I could comprehend, her presence was almost too much to bear. If the mask fell completely, I knew I wouldn't survive the encounter. The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
"I still don't understand," I said quietly. "Why are you here now? Why come back after all this time?"
Her crystalline crown flickered, and for the first time, I saw something in her expression that looked like hesitation. "Because the Azoth is in danger," she said. "Because someone is trying to take control of the celestial Aether—the power of Arceus itself. And if they succeed, everything we know will unravel."
Her words struck me like a physical blow, the weight of them settling in my chest. "You came back to stop them," I realized.
She nodded. "I came back because I need your help."
I stared at her, my mind racing. Jasmine—the girl who was and is my closest friend, who had now awakened to something so far beyond me I could barely comprehend it—was asking for my help. And even though I didn't fully understand what I was stepping into, I knew I couldn't say no.
"Okay," I said finally, my voice steadier than I expected. "I'll help you."
Her smile widened, and for a moment, I saw the Jasmine I remembered—bright, warm, and full of life. "Thank you, Sabrina," she said. "I knew I could count on you."
And as she spoke, the hum of my psychic powers softened, as if the universe itself had acknowledged the bond we still shared.
Discovery 1.5
Jasmine's P.O.V.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at Sonia's lab was the faint, sweet scent of tea wafting through the air. It mixed with the sterile tang of machines humming softly in the background. Sonia greeted me with her usual energy, her hands busy with some notes about Dynamax phenomena as she spoke. I didn't need Aura Sight to tell she was in a hurry—her movements were quick and practiced, though tinged with a slight edge of frazzle.
"Jasmine!" she said brightly, brushing some hair out of her face. "Sorry about the mess. Things have been hectic with trainers coming in for their starters." She gestured to an empty table where Poké Balls had once rested. "Unfortunately, the usual Galarian starters were snatched up earlier today. But," she added with a sly smile, "I've got something special for you."
Special. I tilted my head, curious. As much as I loved surprises, Sonia's tone hinted at something a little more... unconventional.
She walked to a corner where a single, solitary Poké Ball rested on a sleek tray. "This little one was sent over by a contact in Paldea. It's... well, a bit of a handful, but I think you'll manage."
Sonia extended the Poké Ball toward me, and I took it without hesitation. Something about its weight felt heavier than usual—not physically, but emotionally. I smiled at Sonia, gave her a quick thanks, and pressed the release button.
The Fuecoco that emerged was unlike any Pokémon I'd ever encountered—not in appearance, but in presence. Its fiery red scales glistened in the lab's fluorescent lights, and its big, toothy grin was replaced almost immediately by a suspicious squint. It tilted its head, studying me like it was trying to figure out if I was friend or foe.
"Fuee… coco," it growled, low and deliberate. There was something undeniably fiery—not just in its typing but in its personality.
Before I could so much as say a word, the Fuecoco spun around and puffed up its cheeks, unleashing an Ember directly at Sonia. The flames were deliberate, aimed more to startle than harm, but they still singed her coat and left her yelping in surprise. Sonia stumbled backward, clutching at her sleeve with wide eyes.
"What the—?!" she cried, hurriedly patting out the embers. "What kind of introduction is that?!"
Fuecoco's growl deepened, but then it did something odd. It lowered its head in what could only be described as a bow. The fire in its eyes dimmed just slightly as it turned to face me, its expression shifting to something resembling awe.
That's when I felt it—the unmistakable ripple of recognition. Through my Aura Sight, I could see the faint shimmer of understanding in its own aura. It wasn't just a starter Pokémon. It knew. Somehow, someway, it had sensed my heritage.
I crouched down to its level, meeting its fiery gaze with calm curiosity. "Fuecoco," I said softly, switching seamlessly into its language. My voice carried the guttural hums and sharp trills that only its kind used. "You don't need to test me. I know who you are, and I know what you can do."
Its eyes widened, and it let out a surprised chirp. "You… you speak our tongue?"
"I do," I replied simply. "But that doesn't give you the right to attack people. Sonia isn't your enemy."
Fuecoco snorted, clearly unconvinced. "She smells weak. You smell… strong. Why do you travel with her?"
I sighed, already feeling the embers of annoyance flicker in my chest. "Because strength isn't the only thing that matters. And if you're going to stay with me, you'll learn that."
Fuecoco tilted its head again, contemplating my words. Its tail flicked, still restless, but the sharpness in its posture softened just a bit. "You're… different," it said finally. "You're like no human I've met."
"Exactly. So maybe next time, don't go setting people on fire to say hello."
Fuecoco let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter. It sat back on its haunches, its earlier aggression melting away. "Fine. But only because I like you."
I stood and turned back to Sonia, who was now furiously scribbling notes despite the soot still clinging to her coat. She didn't even seem mad, just... fascinated.
"You're taking notes now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course!" Sonia replied, not looking up from her notebook. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to witness someone speaking a Pokémon's native tongue? And the way it reacted to you—Jasmine, this is groundbreaking!"
I crossed my arms, biting back another sigh. "You realize you're still half-burned, right? Maybe we should get you to a Pokémon Center before your coat catches fire again."
Sonia waved me off with a laugh, but I could see the faint tremor in her hand as she packed up her notebook. Fuecoco, now watching her with a glint of mischief, let out a low chuckle of its own.
"This is going to be a long journey, isn't it?" I muttered to myself.
Fuecoco turned to me, its grin wide and toothy once more. "Long? Maybe. But I'll keep you safe."
I couldn't help but smile, despite myself. "Let's hope that doesn't mean setting half the region on fire."
"...No promises," it chirped.
And just like that, I knew I'd found my partner. Fiery temper and all.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at Sonia's lab was the faint, sweet scent of tea wafting through the air. It mixed with the sterile tang of machines humming softly in the background. Sonia greeted me with her usual energy, her hands busy with some notes about Dynamax phenomena as she spoke. I didn't need Aura Sight to tell she was in a hurry—her movements were quick and practiced, though tinged with a slight edge of frazzle.
"Jasmine!" she said brightly, brushing some hair out of her face. "Sorry about the mess. Things have been hectic with trainers coming in for their starters." She gestured to an empty table where Poké Balls had once rested. "Unfortunately, the usual Galarian starters were snatched up earlier today. But," she added with a sly smile, "I've got something special for you."
Special. I tilted my head, curious. As much as I loved surprises, Sonia's tone hinted at something a little more... unconventional.
She walked to a corner where a single, solitary Poké Ball rested on a sleek tray. "This little one was sent over by a contact in Paldea. It's... well, a bit of a handful, but I think you'll manage."
Sonia extended the Poké Ball toward me, and I took it without hesitation. Something about its weight felt heavier than usual—not physically, but emotionally. I smiled at Sonia, gave her a quick thanks, and pressed the release button.
The Fuecoco that emerged was unlike any Pokémon I'd ever encountered—not in appearance, but in presence. Its fiery red scales glistened in the lab's fluorescent lights, and its big, toothy grin was replaced almost immediately by a suspicious squint. It tilted its head, studying me like it was trying to figure out if I was friend or foe.
"Fuee… coco," it growled, low and deliberate. There was something undeniably fiery—not just in its typing but in its personality.
Before I could so much as say a word, the Fuecoco spun around and puffed up its cheeks, unleashing an Ember directly at Sonia. The flames were deliberate, aimed more to startle than harm, but they still singed her coat and left her yelping in surprise. Sonia stumbled backward, clutching at her sleeve with wide eyes.
"What the—?!" she cried, hurriedly patting out the embers. "What kind of introduction is that?!"
Fuecoco's growl deepened, but then it did something odd. It lowered its head in what could only be described as a bow. The fire in its eyes dimmed just slightly as it turned to face me, its expression shifting to something resembling awe.
That's when I felt it—the unmistakable ripple of recognition. Through my Aura Sight, I could see the faint shimmer of understanding in its own aura. It wasn't just a starter Pokémon. It knew. Somehow, someway, it had sensed my heritage.
I crouched down to its level, meeting its fiery gaze with calm curiosity. "Fuecoco," I said softly, switching seamlessly into its language. My voice carried the guttural hums and sharp trills that only its kind used. "You don't need to test me. I know who you are, and I know what you can do."
Its eyes widened, and it let out a surprised chirp. "You… you speak our tongue?"
"I do," I replied simply. "But that doesn't give you the right to attack people. Sonia isn't your enemy."
Fuecoco snorted, clearly unconvinced. "She smells weak. You smell… strong. Why do you travel with her?"
I sighed, already feeling the embers of annoyance flicker in my chest. "Because strength isn't the only thing that matters. And if you're going to stay with me, you'll learn that."
Fuecoco tilted its head again, contemplating my words. Its tail flicked, still restless, but the sharpness in its posture softened just a bit. "You're… different," it said finally. "You're like no human I've met."
"Exactly. So maybe next time, don't go setting people on fire to say hello."
Fuecoco let out a snort that sounded suspiciously like laughter. It sat back on its haunches, its earlier aggression melting away. "Fine. But only because I like you."
I stood and turned back to Sonia, who was now furiously scribbling notes despite the soot still clinging to her coat. She didn't even seem mad, just... fascinated.
"You're taking notes now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Of course!" Sonia replied, not looking up from her notebook. "Do you have any idea how rare it is to witness someone speaking a Pokémon's native tongue? And the way it reacted to you—Jasmine, this is groundbreaking!"
I crossed my arms, biting back another sigh. "You realize you're still half-burned, right? Maybe we should get you to a Pokémon Center before your coat catches fire again."
Sonia waved me off with a laugh, but I could see the faint tremor in her hand as she packed up her notebook. Fuecoco, now watching her with a glint of mischief, let out a low chuckle of its own.
"This is going to be a long journey, isn't it?" I muttered to myself.
Fuecoco turned to me, its grin wide and toothy once more. "Long? Maybe. But I'll keep you safe."
I couldn't help but smile, despite myself. "Let's hope that doesn't mean setting half the region on fire."
"...No promises," it chirped.
And just like that, I knew I'd found my partner. Fiery temper and all.
interlude; Paldea 1 or Lance and Sabrina learn painfully how alien Legendary Pokemon and Mythical Pokemon can be part 1
Sabrina and Lance had been travelling through the luminescent wilderness of Area Zero, their mission twofold: investigate the recent energy surges reported by the Paldean researchers, and ensure that whatever was causing the disruptions posed no threat to the world. They had not expected what lay before them.
Nestled in the centre of a shallow crystalline pool, bathed in the bioluminescent glow of the caverns, was Terapagos. Its shell gleamed like the surface of a starry sky, constellations shifting and reforming every few seconds. It radiated a presence unlike anything either trainer had felt before—a gravity, not physical but psychic, that made Sabrina's heart race and Lance grip his Poké Ball with uncertainty.
It was so... small. No larger than a coffee table. Yet, the air seemed to hum in its presence, as though the world was holding its breath.
"Is that...?" Lance whispered, his sharp eyes narrowing. "It can't be. It looks... harmless."
Sabrina said nothing, but her usually steely expression softened. Her psychic senses, honed from years of experience, were overwhelmed—not in a painful way, but in a way that left her disoriented. It was like trying to listen to a symphony made of alien melodies, each note woven with the fabric of the universe.
Terapagos tilted its head, chirping softly, a sound like a tinkling wind chime. Sabrina involuntarily stepped forward, one hand outstretched.
"Careful!" Lance warned, but his voice was already too late.
The world around them shifted as Sabrina's fingers brushed the edge of Terapagos's shell. The cavern dissolved into a swirling cosmos. Stars spun lazily past them, the floor becoming a shimmering bridge of light. Around them, the universe itself seemed to sing in unearthly harmonies. Lance staggered, his dragon-like composure momentarily lost.
"What... is this?" Lance asked, his voice barely audible. "Sabrina, is this some kind of psychic illusion?"
Sabrina shook her head slowly. Her voice was distant, her words half-conscious. "No... this is real. Or... more real than reality itself."
Terapagos floated upward, its tiny legs paddling the air as if swimming. The constellations on its shell expanded, forming patterns that Lance and Sabrina could almost—but not quite—comprehend. A clawed hand reached out as if offering something, but the "gift" was abstract—a feeling, a sensation, an alien thought.
Suddenly, the pair heard a voice—not speech as humans knew it, but a thought planted directly into their minds.
"Why do you fracture the threads of stars to weave meaning?"
The question was posed not in judgment but in pure curiosity. It was as though Terapagos could not fathom human concepts of morality or purpose.
Lance blinked. "What does that even mean? Fracture the—what?" His voice sounded loud, too loud, in the stillness of the cosmic expanse.
Sabrina, however, closed her eyes, trying to connect to the alien logic. She was accustomed to navigating strange psychics, but this was far beyond her abilities. Terapagos was operating on a level where "right" and "wrong" were irrelevant concepts. The tiny turtle simply existed as a nexus of creation, its every action neither benevolent nor malevolent but woven into the fabric of reality.
"It doesn't understand us," Sabrina murmured. "It doesn't think like we do. To it, we're... simple. Small. But still part of its tapestry."
Terapagos chirped again, its shell shimmering brighter. The light expanded into the shape of a dragon—one formed of stars, glimmering and infinite. Lance stepped back instinctively, his hand on his belt.
"Dragonite, I might need you—"
Before Lance could finish, the starry dragon dissipated into a thousand tiny lights, scattering into the air like fireflies. Terapagos tilted its head again, as though amused, though its crystalline eyes betrayed no malice or even comprehension of Lance's fear.
Sabrina touched her temple, connecting her psychic energy directly to Terapagos's alien thoughts. Her face twitched with strain. "It doesn't mean harm," she said, her voice quivering. "It's... curious. Curious about us. But it doesn't understand why we see things as fragile. To it, destruction and creation are the same."
Lance scowled. "Then what does it want from us?"
Terapagos floated closer, its tiny legs paddling through the air. Its voice echoed again in their minds, gentle but incomprehensibly vast.
"You are both threads of this world. Do you choose to weave? Or to unravel?"
Sabrina blinked. The question didn't feel like a choice—it felt like a cosmic truth, a glimpse into a perspective where choice and consequence were meaningless. Terapagos didn't want anything from them. It was simply offering a reflection of their existence, filtered through its incomprehensible morality.
"I think," Sabrina said slowly, "it's asking if we'll try to change this world. Or let it be."
Lance's hand finally dropped from his Poké Ball. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don't think it cares about our answer, Sabrina. It's... playing with us. Like a Wurmple might look at a human and wonder why they don't crawl."
Terapagos chirped once more and began to descend, nestling itself back into the crystalline pool. The cosmic expanse dissolved, the cavern returning to normal. It gave one final, incomprehensible look at the two trainers before curling into a tiny ball, its shell glittering faintly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"What just happened?" Lance muttered.
Sabrina stared at the resting Terapagos, her psychic senses still vibrating with its lingering presence. "I think... it was trying to understand us. And we'll never fully understand it."
Lance crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "That thing is a walking paradox. Cute, sure, but something is terrifying about it."
Sabrina allowed herself a rare smile, though it was tinged with unease. "Adorable abomination," she said softly.
Terapagos purred in its sleep.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As the crystalline glow of Terapagos's pool faded into the distance, Lance and Sabrina walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the caverns of Area Zero. The only sounds were the distant flutter of Glimmora shifting along the walls and the ever-present hum of strange energy suffusing the crater. Both trainers were lost in thought, still processing the encounter with the strange being that seemed to embody both creation and chaos.
Finally, Lance broke the silence, his voice low and uncertain. "That thing—Terapagos—it wasn't just powerful. It was wrong. Like it didn't belong here."
"Not wrong," Sabrina corrected, her tone as calm and precise as ever. "Different. It doesn't conform to our understanding of life or morality. It exists outside the framework we're used to. But... I'll admit, something was unsettling about it. It felt... raw."
Lance muttered something under his breath but fell quiet as the cavern walls gave way to the sleek, futuristic architecture of Professor Turo's lab. The Zero Gate facility was quiet except for the low hum of machinery and the faint buzz of energy fields keeping the lab operational. Waiting near the central console was Juliana, the Paldean champion, her arms crossed as she studied a holographic map of Area Zero.
She turned as they entered, her expression lighting up with curiosity. "You're back! What did you find?"
Lance exchanged a look with Sabrina before answering. "We found... something. A Pokémon. If you can even call it that."
Juliana raised an eyebrow. "What did it look like?"
"It was small," Sabrina said slowly, her tone careful as though choosing her words. "Cute, even. Like a turtle, but its shell... it was like looking into the universe. Stars shifting, constellations forming and dissolving. It spoke to us, not in words, but in thoughts. Thoughts so alien they barely made sense."
Juliana's expression sharpened a glint of recognition in her eyes. She motioned for them to follow her to a nearby workstation. Tapping on the console, she pulled up a hologram of Terapagos. Its crystalline shell shimmered in the air, the constellations on its surface shifting and swirling like a living galaxy.
"That's Terapagos," Juliana said, her voice calm but tinged with fascination. "It's the Pokémon the researchers believe is the source of the Terastal phenomenon. But it's more than that. Terapagos is... unapologetically alien. It doesn't even try to make itself comprehensible to us because it doesn't care if we understand it."
Lance crossed his arms, leaning against the console. "Unapologetically alien. That's putting it mildly. It didn't feel like anything I've ever encountered before—and I've faced my fair share of Legendary Pokémon."
Juliana smirked faintly. "all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are like that. Alien, I mean. What did you feel with Terapagos? That's what they're like when they're not pretending to fit into our world to interact with us. The ones that try to seem familiar most of the time—those are the exceptions, not the rule."
Sabrina's brow furrowed. "The exceptions?"
Juliana nodded, tapping a few commands on the console. Holograms of various Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon appeared: Lugia, Kyogre, Mewtwo, Zacian, and others. "Take these guys, for example. The ones that interact with humans or have some kind of mythology we can relate to—those are the ones that go out of their way to seem understandable. They're the outliers."
She shifted the display to show others: Giratina, Eternatus, Necrozma, Yveltal when not comforting the grieving or escorting souls to their next life, Pecharunt. "Now, these? They don't bother with that. They don't care if we understand them or not. They're unapologetically alien, like Terapagos. They exist on their terms, in their ways. They don't fit into our world because they were never meant to."
Lance frowned. "So what, you're saying all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are like Terapagos when away from humans? They just don't bother pretending to make sense?"
"Exactly," Juliana replied. "all of them are like Terapagos—beings so far removed from human understanding that they don't even try to meet us halfway. The ones that do interact with us most often, like the ones tied to human myths and legends, are the minority. They're the ones that choose to interact with us in ways we can grasp."
Sabrina's gaze drifted to the hologram of Terapagos, her psychic senses still resonating faintly with the memory of its overwhelming presence. "That makes sense. It didn't feel malicious or benevolent. It just... was. Like trying to talk to a star or a black hole."
Juliana nodded. "Exactly. Terapagos doesn't have motives as we understand them. It's not good, it's not evil—it's something else entirely. It's part of the world, but also above it. That's what makes it so fascinating—and so terrifying."
Sabrina folded her arms, deep in thought. "So the other Paldean Legendary Pokémon—the Treasures of Ruin—they're like Terapagos?"
"Not quite," Juliana said, bringing up holograms of Chien-Pao, Ting-Lu, Wo-Chien, and Chi-Yu. "The Treasures of Ruin are tied to human emotions. They're born of greed, destruction, curses—things we understand, even if they're amplified to monstrous levels. They try to fit into our world because their origins are rooted in us. But Terapagos? It's not tied to us at all. It doesn't reflect humanity; it reflects the universe itself."
Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "Great. So Terapagos isn't just alien—it's the purest form of alien. A walking paradox that doesn't even try to make sense to us."
"Pretty much," Juliana said with a grin. "Terapagos doesn't hide what it is. It doesn't wear a mask like some of the others. That's why it felt so overwhelming—it's the raw, unfiltered truth of what all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are. It just doesn't care if we can handle it."
Sabrina's lips curved into a faint smile. "Adorable abomination," she murmured.
Juliana chuckled. "That's one way to put it."
As they stood in silence, the hologram of Terapagos flickered, its shell glowing faintly as though responding to their words. None of them spoke it out loud, but the truth hung heavy in the air: Terapagos—and by extension, all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon—were far beyond anything they could truly comprehend. And that was both its greatest beauty and its greatest danger.
After hours of pleasant conversation, Lance and Sabrina went to sleep and took the plane to Kalos, once in one of the region's mountains Lance and Sabrina watched as humans deforested half the mountain to build their factories, leaving ash and stumps in their wake. But then the ground trembled. From the roots of the remaining trees, a serpent-like figure coalesced, its body formed of glowing green cells.
Zygarde slithered forward, its very presence causing the forest to regrow unnaturally fast. Trees shot up in seconds, vines writhing like snakes, overtaking the machinery and pulling it apart. The humans could only watch in horror as the land reclaimed itself, Zygarde's eyes glowing with an eerie intelligence, as though it were judging their worth.
Fleeing deforesters thought they were safe, but the shadows of the forest seemed to ripple as something massive slithered between the trees. Zygarde, in its 50% Forme, emerged from the undergrowth, its serpentine face twisted into a snarl. It didn't roar or make any sound, but the atmosphere grew heavy with its presence. It moved like a wolf, crouching low before lunging forward with terrifying speed. Vines erupted from the ground to block the poachers' escape, and Zygarde's tail struck like a whip, coiling around its prey as its glowing chest pulsed like a heartbeat.
The moment Sabrina stepped within Zygarde's aura, her psychic senses exploded with input. She clutched her head, gasping as her vision blurred and filled with images of endless forests, raging storms, molten lava, and frozen tundras—all at once. It was as if the entire ecosystem was roaring in her mind, demanding her attention. For a fleeting moment, she felt her individuality dissolve, becoming one with the balance Zygarde represented. When the sensation passed, her knees buckled, and she could only whisper, "It's... too much."
Lance closed his eyes, trying to center himself, but the weight of Zygarde's presence pressed against his mind like a mountain. He saw flashes of ancient forests, oceans rising and falling, tectonic plates shifting over millennia. He felt the heartbeat of the earth itself—and his own life was a flicker in comparison. Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered, "This... this is what eternity feels like."
As Sabrina tried to focus on Zygarde to communicate with the Lord of the Ecosystem, a sharp pain lanced through her skull. Her powers surged against her will, reaching out to the serpent's aura, but they couldn't grasp it—it was too vast, too alien. The feedback hit her like a tidal wave, her knees buckling as visions of forests and storms filled her mind. She screamed, clutching her head, and Lance had to catch her before she collapsed entirely. "Get me out of here," she gasped. "It's too much."
Lance immediately takes Sabrina in a princess carry and runs to the closest Pokemon Centre, not before reporting to the rangers the deforesters and Zygarde intervening, Lance occasionally flashing his badge as the head of the G-Man to help in certain parts of the treck, they remained there for several days so that Sabrina could rest her psychic powers and recover but even days after her recovery and weeks after their encounter with Zygarde, Sabrina still couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of forests swallowing cities, of rivers turning red with ash, and of glowing green eyes staring through the darkness. Even in her waking hours, her psychic abilities flickered—objects moved on their own, and she caught glimpses of things that weren't there. "It's like it left a piece of itself in my head," she said quietly. "And it's never going to leave."
Nestled in the centre of a shallow crystalline pool, bathed in the bioluminescent glow of the caverns, was Terapagos. Its shell gleamed like the surface of a starry sky, constellations shifting and reforming every few seconds. It radiated a presence unlike anything either trainer had felt before—a gravity, not physical but psychic, that made Sabrina's heart race and Lance grip his Poké Ball with uncertainty.
It was so... small. No larger than a coffee table. Yet, the air seemed to hum in its presence, as though the world was holding its breath.
"Is that...?" Lance whispered, his sharp eyes narrowing. "It can't be. It looks... harmless."
Sabrina said nothing, but her usually steely expression softened. Her psychic senses, honed from years of experience, were overwhelmed—not in a painful way, but in a way that left her disoriented. It was like trying to listen to a symphony made of alien melodies, each note woven with the fabric of the universe.
Terapagos tilted its head, chirping softly, a sound like a tinkling wind chime. Sabrina involuntarily stepped forward, one hand outstretched.
"Careful!" Lance warned, but his voice was already too late.
The world around them shifted as Sabrina's fingers brushed the edge of Terapagos's shell. The cavern dissolved into a swirling cosmos. Stars spun lazily past them, the floor becoming a shimmering bridge of light. Around them, the universe itself seemed to sing in unearthly harmonies. Lance staggered, his dragon-like composure momentarily lost.
"What... is this?" Lance asked, his voice barely audible. "Sabrina, is this some kind of psychic illusion?"
Sabrina shook her head slowly. Her voice was distant, her words half-conscious. "No... this is real. Or... more real than reality itself."
Terapagos floated upward, its tiny legs paddling the air as if swimming. The constellations on its shell expanded, forming patterns that Lance and Sabrina could almost—but not quite—comprehend. A clawed hand reached out as if offering something, but the "gift" was abstract—a feeling, a sensation, an alien thought.
Suddenly, the pair heard a voice—not speech as humans knew it, but a thought planted directly into their minds.
"Why do you fracture the threads of stars to weave meaning?"
The question was posed not in judgment but in pure curiosity. It was as though Terapagos could not fathom human concepts of morality or purpose.
Lance blinked. "What does that even mean? Fracture the—what?" His voice sounded loud, too loud, in the stillness of the cosmic expanse.
Sabrina, however, closed her eyes, trying to connect to the alien logic. She was accustomed to navigating strange psychics, but this was far beyond her abilities. Terapagos was operating on a level where "right" and "wrong" were irrelevant concepts. The tiny turtle simply existed as a nexus of creation, its every action neither benevolent nor malevolent but woven into the fabric of reality.
"It doesn't understand us," Sabrina murmured. "It doesn't think like we do. To it, we're... simple. Small. But still part of its tapestry."
Terapagos chirped again, its shell shimmering brighter. The light expanded into the shape of a dragon—one formed of stars, glimmering and infinite. Lance stepped back instinctively, his hand on his belt.
"Dragonite, I might need you—"
Before Lance could finish, the starry dragon dissipated into a thousand tiny lights, scattering into the air like fireflies. Terapagos tilted its head again, as though amused, though its crystalline eyes betrayed no malice or even comprehension of Lance's fear.
Sabrina touched her temple, connecting her psychic energy directly to Terapagos's alien thoughts. Her face twitched with strain. "It doesn't mean harm," she said, her voice quivering. "It's... curious. Curious about us. But it doesn't understand why we see things as fragile. To it, destruction and creation are the same."
Lance scowled. "Then what does it want from us?"
Terapagos floated closer, its tiny legs paddling through the air. Its voice echoed again in their minds, gentle but incomprehensibly vast.
"You are both threads of this world. Do you choose to weave? Or to unravel?"
Sabrina blinked. The question didn't feel like a choice—it felt like a cosmic truth, a glimpse into a perspective where choice and consequence were meaningless. Terapagos didn't want anything from them. It was simply offering a reflection of their existence, filtered through its incomprehensible morality.
"I think," Sabrina said slowly, "it's asking if we'll try to change this world. Or let it be."
Lance's hand finally dropped from his Poké Ball. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I don't think it cares about our answer, Sabrina. It's... playing with us. Like a Wurmple might look at a human and wonder why they don't crawl."
Terapagos chirped once more and began to descend, nestling itself back into the crystalline pool. The cosmic expanse dissolved, the cavern returning to normal. It gave one final, incomprehensible look at the two trainers before curling into a tiny ball, its shell glittering faintly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"What just happened?" Lance muttered.
Sabrina stared at the resting Terapagos, her psychic senses still vibrating with its lingering presence. "I think... it was trying to understand us. And we'll never fully understand it."
Lance crossed his arms, his brow furrowed. "That thing is a walking paradox. Cute, sure, but something is terrifying about it."
Sabrina allowed herself a rare smile, though it was tinged with unease. "Adorable abomination," she said softly.
Terapagos purred in its sleep.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
As the crystalline glow of Terapagos's pool faded into the distance, Lance and Sabrina walked in silence, their footsteps echoing through the caverns of Area Zero. The only sounds were the distant flutter of Glimmora shifting along the walls and the ever-present hum of strange energy suffusing the crater. Both trainers were lost in thought, still processing the encounter with the strange being that seemed to embody both creation and chaos.
Finally, Lance broke the silence, his voice low and uncertain. "That thing—Terapagos—it wasn't just powerful. It was wrong. Like it didn't belong here."
"Not wrong," Sabrina corrected, her tone as calm and precise as ever. "Different. It doesn't conform to our understanding of life or morality. It exists outside the framework we're used to. But... I'll admit, something was unsettling about it. It felt... raw."
Lance muttered something under his breath but fell quiet as the cavern walls gave way to the sleek, futuristic architecture of Professor Turo's lab. The Zero Gate facility was quiet except for the low hum of machinery and the faint buzz of energy fields keeping the lab operational. Waiting near the central console was Juliana, the Paldean champion, her arms crossed as she studied a holographic map of Area Zero.
She turned as they entered, her expression lighting up with curiosity. "You're back! What did you find?"
Lance exchanged a look with Sabrina before answering. "We found... something. A Pokémon. If you can even call it that."
Juliana raised an eyebrow. "What did it look like?"
"It was small," Sabrina said slowly, her tone careful as though choosing her words. "Cute, even. Like a turtle, but its shell... it was like looking into the universe. Stars shifting, constellations forming and dissolving. It spoke to us, not in words, but in thoughts. Thoughts so alien they barely made sense."
Juliana's expression sharpened a glint of recognition in her eyes. She motioned for them to follow her to a nearby workstation. Tapping on the console, she pulled up a hologram of Terapagos. Its crystalline shell shimmered in the air, the constellations on its surface shifting and swirling like a living galaxy.
"That's Terapagos," Juliana said, her voice calm but tinged with fascination. "It's the Pokémon the researchers believe is the source of the Terastal phenomenon. But it's more than that. Terapagos is... unapologetically alien. It doesn't even try to make itself comprehensible to us because it doesn't care if we understand it."
Lance crossed his arms, leaning against the console. "Unapologetically alien. That's putting it mildly. It didn't feel like anything I've ever encountered before—and I've faced my fair share of Legendary Pokémon."
Juliana smirked faintly. "all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are like that. Alien, I mean. What did you feel with Terapagos? That's what they're like when they're not pretending to fit into our world to interact with us. The ones that try to seem familiar most of the time—those are the exceptions, not the rule."
Sabrina's brow furrowed. "The exceptions?"
Juliana nodded, tapping a few commands on the console. Holograms of various Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon appeared: Lugia, Kyogre, Mewtwo, Zacian, and others. "Take these guys, for example. The ones that interact with humans or have some kind of mythology we can relate to—those are the ones that go out of their way to seem understandable. They're the outliers."
She shifted the display to show others: Giratina, Eternatus, Necrozma, Yveltal when not comforting the grieving or escorting souls to their next life, Pecharunt. "Now, these? They don't bother with that. They don't care if we understand them or not. They're unapologetically alien, like Terapagos. They exist on their terms, in their ways. They don't fit into our world because they were never meant to."
Lance frowned. "So what, you're saying all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are like Terapagos when away from humans? They just don't bother pretending to make sense?"
"Exactly," Juliana replied. "all of them are like Terapagos—beings so far removed from human understanding that they don't even try to meet us halfway. The ones that do interact with us most often, like the ones tied to human myths and legends, are the minority. They're the ones that choose to interact with us in ways we can grasp."
Sabrina's gaze drifted to the hologram of Terapagos, her psychic senses still resonating faintly with the memory of its overwhelming presence. "That makes sense. It didn't feel malicious or benevolent. It just... was. Like trying to talk to a star or a black hole."
Juliana nodded. "Exactly. Terapagos doesn't have motives as we understand them. It's not good, it's not evil—it's something else entirely. It's part of the world, but also above it. That's what makes it so fascinating—and so terrifying."
Sabrina folded her arms, deep in thought. "So the other Paldean Legendary Pokémon—the Treasures of Ruin—they're like Terapagos?"
"Not quite," Juliana said, bringing up holograms of Chien-Pao, Ting-Lu, Wo-Chien, and Chi-Yu. "The Treasures of Ruin are tied to human emotions. They're born of greed, destruction, curses—things we understand, even if they're amplified to monstrous levels. They try to fit into our world because their origins are rooted in us. But Terapagos? It's not tied to us at all. It doesn't reflect humanity; it reflects the universe itself."
Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "Great. So Terapagos isn't just alien—it's the purest form of alien. A walking paradox that doesn't even try to make sense to us."
"Pretty much," Juliana said with a grin. "Terapagos doesn't hide what it is. It doesn't wear a mask like some of the others. That's why it felt so overwhelming—it's the raw, unfiltered truth of what all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon are. It just doesn't care if we can handle it."
Sabrina's lips curved into a faint smile. "Adorable abomination," she murmured.
Juliana chuckled. "That's one way to put it."
As they stood in silence, the hologram of Terapagos flickered, its shell glowing faintly as though responding to their words. None of them spoke it out loud, but the truth hung heavy in the air: Terapagos—and by extension, all Legendary Pokémon and Mythical Pokemon—were far beyond anything they could truly comprehend. And that was both its greatest beauty and its greatest danger.
After hours of pleasant conversation, Lance and Sabrina went to sleep and took the plane to Kalos, once in one of the region's mountains Lance and Sabrina watched as humans deforested half the mountain to build their factories, leaving ash and stumps in their wake. But then the ground trembled. From the roots of the remaining trees, a serpent-like figure coalesced, its body formed of glowing green cells.
Zygarde slithered forward, its very presence causing the forest to regrow unnaturally fast. Trees shot up in seconds, vines writhing like snakes, overtaking the machinery and pulling it apart. The humans could only watch in horror as the land reclaimed itself, Zygarde's eyes glowing with an eerie intelligence, as though it were judging their worth.
Fleeing deforesters thought they were safe, but the shadows of the forest seemed to ripple as something massive slithered between the trees. Zygarde, in its 50% Forme, emerged from the undergrowth, its serpentine face twisted into a snarl. It didn't roar or make any sound, but the atmosphere grew heavy with its presence. It moved like a wolf, crouching low before lunging forward with terrifying speed. Vines erupted from the ground to block the poachers' escape, and Zygarde's tail struck like a whip, coiling around its prey as its glowing chest pulsed like a heartbeat.
The moment Sabrina stepped within Zygarde's aura, her psychic senses exploded with input. She clutched her head, gasping as her vision blurred and filled with images of endless forests, raging storms, molten lava, and frozen tundras—all at once. It was as if the entire ecosystem was roaring in her mind, demanding her attention. For a fleeting moment, she felt her individuality dissolve, becoming one with the balance Zygarde represented. When the sensation passed, her knees buckled, and she could only whisper, "It's... too much."
Lance closed his eyes, trying to center himself, but the weight of Zygarde's presence pressed against his mind like a mountain. He saw flashes of ancient forests, oceans rising and falling, tectonic plates shifting over millennia. He felt the heartbeat of the earth itself—and his own life was a flicker in comparison. Tears welled in his eyes as he whispered, "This... this is what eternity feels like."
As Sabrina tried to focus on Zygarde to communicate with the Lord of the Ecosystem, a sharp pain lanced through her skull. Her powers surged against her will, reaching out to the serpent's aura, but they couldn't grasp it—it was too vast, too alien. The feedback hit her like a tidal wave, her knees buckling as visions of forests and storms filled her mind. She screamed, clutching her head, and Lance had to catch her before she collapsed entirely. "Get me out of here," she gasped. "It's too much."
Lance immediately takes Sabrina in a princess carry and runs to the closest Pokemon Centre, not before reporting to the rangers the deforesters and Zygarde intervening, Lance occasionally flashing his badge as the head of the G-Man to help in certain parts of the treck, they remained there for several days so that Sabrina could rest her psychic powers and recover but even days after her recovery and weeks after their encounter with Zygarde, Sabrina still couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she dreamed of forests swallowing cities, of rivers turning red with ash, and of glowing green eyes staring through the darkness. Even in her waking hours, her psychic abilities flickered—objects moved on their own, and she caught glimpses of things that weren't there. "It's like it left a piece of itself in my head," she said quietly. "And it's never going to leave."
Discovery 1.6
From the Journal of Marx, Senior Magician of the First Squad of the Chronology Research Division
I told them. I told them this would happen.
For years, they laughed at me—the decrepit old man in the corner, muttering about the limits of our knowledge, cautioning against meddling with forces beyond our comprehension. They called me paranoid, a relic of a bygone era, a fossil in a lab of innovators. But now? Now, as the walls of reality themselves crack and bleed, as time slips through our hands like sand, I see their faces twisted with fear.
And I am terrified, too, perhaps even more than they are.
It began innocently enough—or as innocently as heresy can begin. The scientists believed they could steal the Azoth from Arceus, the raw force of creation. The "plan," if you could even call it that, was to manipulate time, to force the universe to revert to its Origin—back to when all things were one, back to the moment when Arceus held the Azoth alone before it spun the cosmos into existence.
With the arrogance only mortals can muster, they decided they would snatch it. Snatch the essence of existence itself.
I sat in the corner of the lab that day, my trembling fingers clutching my staff, which had seen centuries of magic. The machinery buzzed around me, cold and sterile, as the others scrambled about, adjusting dials and checking equations. I could feel it already, even then: the air was too heavy, too still, as though the very fabric of the world was holding its breath.
"This is madness," I rasped, my voice drowned out by the hum of their machines.
"Madness?" laughed Dr. Lanard, the lead researcher, his voice sharp and confident. "This is progress, Marx. You wouldn't understand—you still cling to your dusty spells and incantations. We're on the verge of becoming gods!"
Gods. Gods! Nothing more than foolish children playing with matches in a room full of dynamite were they, their hybris their undoing!
And then they flipped the switch.
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
The machines stopped humming. The air froze. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out—not from me, not from anyone. My voice was gone, swallowed by the void. For one endless moment, it was as though time itself had died.
And then it began.
It started with the walls. They melted, not with heat, but with age—one-moment gleaming metal, the next rusted and crumbling, the next pristine again, flickering between states in a rhythm I couldn't comprehend. The lights overhead flickered, dimmed, and turned into oil lamps before surging back into harsh fluorescence.
Dr Lanard's triumphant smirk faded as the machines began to glow, their screens flashing with data that shouldn't exist. Numbers, symbols, and shapes I couldn't recognize as anything but readings from the Distortion World also known as the Shattered Shell of Arceus' Egg where all that is not resides, a prison of not-time and not-space personified by its Warden that is Giratina, scrolled faster and faster. And then the screens cracked, spilling liquid light—yes, light in liquid form—onto the floor, where it pooled and pulsed like a heartbeat.
And that's when it appeared.
Dialga.
I had read about it in ancient texts, glimpsed its shadowy seeming in carvings older than the mountains. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality of the Temporal Dragon. It didn't walk into the lab—it simply was, coalescing from light and shadow, its form flickering like a mirage. Its body shimmered with every moment of its existence, past, present, and future, overlapping in impossible layers.
Its eyes burned with a light that made my knees buckle. They weren't just looking at me—they were looking through me, through my life, through the infinite threads of time. I was nothing to it. A single grain of sand in a desert that stretched forever.
The others weren't so lucky.
Dr. Lanard screamed—or tried to. His mouth moved, but his voice came out in reverse, words unraveling into guttural noises that made my skin crawl. The others stumbled back, their movements jerky and wrong. I watched in horror as one of the assistants collapsed to the ground, her body flickering like a glitch in reality. One moment she was young, the next she was an infant, then an old woman, her life unraveling and rewinding before my eyes until she simply... ceased to be.
The machines began to melt, not into slag, but into possibilities—branches of what they could have been, might be, or never were. One machine sprouted vines and flowers, another turned to jagged stone, and a third simply vanished, leaving behind the faint echo of gears turning in empty space.
The floor cracked open, but instead of revealing wires or the ground below, it showed... everything. I saw stars dying and being born, civilizations rising and crumbling, entire timelines playing out in the blink of an eye. And through it all, Dialga stood, motionless, its gaze fixed on the unstable rift in the center of the lab.
And then it roared.
I will never forget that sound for as long as I live—if I can even call this living. It wasn't just a noise. It was the sound of the universe collapsing, of clocks shattering, of time itself screaming.
The roar rippled outward, and the lab changed.
Lanard stumbled forward, only to freeze mid-step. Not metaphorically—he was literally frozen in time, his face twisted in terror, his outstretched hand reaching for nothing. Others weren't so lucky. One by one, they flickered and vanished, consumed by the rift they had created.
The walls buckled, bending inward and outward at the same time. The ceiling fractured into shards of light, which floated upward and dissolved into nothingness. The floor beneath me pulsed with a rhythm that didn't match any heartbeat I knew. I was falling, standing, flying—all at once.
And yet, Dialga remained. It was not panicked. It was not angry. It simply was, a force of nature correcting what should never have been touched.
I don't know how long I stood there—seconds? Hours? Years? Time had lost all meaning. But eventually, the lab was quiet again.
I found myself on the floor, clutching my staff like a lifeline. The lab was unrecognizable, a warped and broken space where reality no longer made sense. The rift was gone, but so was everything else—Lanard, the other researchers, the machines. I was alone.
Dialga turned its gaze to me one final time. I could feel its thoughts pressing against my mind, vast and incomprehensible. It didn't speak, but the message was clear:
This is what happens when mortals play with time.
And then it was gone, leaving me in the ruins of our arrogance.
I write this now in the hopes that someone, someday, will find it and learn from our mistakes. If you value your life, your sanity, your very existence—do not summon Dialga. Do not tamper with the forces of time. Some things are beyond our understanding, and to try to grasp them is to invite ruin.
I am Marx, the last survivor of the First Squad of the Chronology Research Division
And I am afraid.
I told them. I told them this would happen.
For years, they laughed at me—the decrepit old man in the corner, muttering about the limits of our knowledge, cautioning against meddling with forces beyond our comprehension. They called me paranoid, a relic of a bygone era, a fossil in a lab of innovators. But now? Now, as the walls of reality themselves crack and bleed, as time slips through our hands like sand, I see their faces twisted with fear.
And I am terrified, too, perhaps even more than they are.
It began innocently enough—or as innocently as heresy can begin. The scientists believed they could steal the Azoth from Arceus, the raw force of creation. The "plan," if you could even call it that, was to manipulate time, to force the universe to revert to its Origin—back to when all things were one, back to the moment when Arceus held the Azoth alone before it spun the cosmos into existence.
With the arrogance only mortals can muster, they decided they would snatch it. Snatch the essence of existence itself.
I sat in the corner of the lab that day, my trembling fingers clutching my staff, which had seen centuries of magic. The machinery buzzed around me, cold and sterile, as the others scrambled about, adjusting dials and checking equations. I could feel it already, even then: the air was too heavy, too still, as though the very fabric of the world was holding its breath.
"This is madness," I rasped, my voice drowned out by the hum of their machines.
"Madness?" laughed Dr. Lanard, the lead researcher, his voice sharp and confident. "This is progress, Marx. You wouldn't understand—you still cling to your dusty spells and incantations. We're on the verge of becoming gods!"
Gods. Gods! Nothing more than foolish children playing with matches in a room full of dynamite were they, their hybris their undoing!
And then they flipped the switch.
The first thing I noticed was the silence.
The machines stopped humming. The air froze. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out—not from me, not from anyone. My voice was gone, swallowed by the void. For one endless moment, it was as though time itself had died.
And then it began.
It started with the walls. They melted, not with heat, but with age—one-moment gleaming metal, the next rusted and crumbling, the next pristine again, flickering between states in a rhythm I couldn't comprehend. The lights overhead flickered, dimmed, and turned into oil lamps before surging back into harsh fluorescence.
Dr Lanard's triumphant smirk faded as the machines began to glow, their screens flashing with data that shouldn't exist. Numbers, symbols, and shapes I couldn't recognize as anything but readings from the Distortion World also known as the Shattered Shell of Arceus' Egg where all that is not resides, a prison of not-time and not-space personified by its Warden that is Giratina, scrolled faster and faster. And then the screens cracked, spilling liquid light—yes, light in liquid form—onto the floor, where it pooled and pulsed like a heartbeat.
And that's when it appeared.
Dialga.
I had read about it in ancient texts, glimpsed its shadowy seeming in carvings older than the mountains. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality of the Temporal Dragon. It didn't walk into the lab—it simply was, coalescing from light and shadow, its form flickering like a mirage. Its body shimmered with every moment of its existence, past, present, and future, overlapping in impossible layers.
Its eyes burned with a light that made my knees buckle. They weren't just looking at me—they were looking through me, through my life, through the infinite threads of time. I was nothing to it. A single grain of sand in a desert that stretched forever.
The others weren't so lucky.
Dr. Lanard screamed—or tried to. His mouth moved, but his voice came out in reverse, words unraveling into guttural noises that made my skin crawl. The others stumbled back, their movements jerky and wrong. I watched in horror as one of the assistants collapsed to the ground, her body flickering like a glitch in reality. One moment she was young, the next she was an infant, then an old woman, her life unraveling and rewinding before my eyes until she simply... ceased to be.
The machines began to melt, not into slag, but into possibilities—branches of what they could have been, might be, or never were. One machine sprouted vines and flowers, another turned to jagged stone, and a third simply vanished, leaving behind the faint echo of gears turning in empty space.
The floor cracked open, but instead of revealing wires or the ground below, it showed... everything. I saw stars dying and being born, civilizations rising and crumbling, entire timelines playing out in the blink of an eye. And through it all, Dialga stood, motionless, its gaze fixed on the unstable rift in the center of the lab.
And then it roared.
I will never forget that sound for as long as I live—if I can even call this living. It wasn't just a noise. It was the sound of the universe collapsing, of clocks shattering, of time itself screaming.
The roar rippled outward, and the lab changed.
Lanard stumbled forward, only to freeze mid-step. Not metaphorically—he was literally frozen in time, his face twisted in terror, his outstretched hand reaching for nothing. Others weren't so lucky. One by one, they flickered and vanished, consumed by the rift they had created.
The walls buckled, bending inward and outward at the same time. The ceiling fractured into shards of light, which floated upward and dissolved into nothingness. The floor beneath me pulsed with a rhythm that didn't match any heartbeat I knew. I was falling, standing, flying—all at once.
And yet, Dialga remained. It was not panicked. It was not angry. It simply was, a force of nature correcting what should never have been touched.
I don't know how long I stood there—seconds? Hours? Years? Time had lost all meaning. But eventually, the lab was quiet again.
I found myself on the floor, clutching my staff like a lifeline. The lab was unrecognizable, a warped and broken space where reality no longer made sense. The rift was gone, but so was everything else—Lanard, the other researchers, the machines. I was alone.
Dialga turned its gaze to me one final time. I could feel its thoughts pressing against my mind, vast and incomprehensible. It didn't speak, but the message was clear:
This is what happens when mortals play with time.
And then it was gone, leaving me in the ruins of our arrogance.
I write this now in the hopes that someone, someday, will find it and learn from our mistakes. If you value your life, your sanity, your very existence—do not summon Dialga. Do not tamper with the forces of time. Some things are beyond our understanding, and to try to grasp them is to invite ruin.
I am Marx, the last survivor of the First Squad of the Chronology Research Division
And I am afraid.
Discovery 1.7
Jasmine's Perspective
Training a Pokémon like Fuecoco wasn't easy. Not because it lacked power—it had plenty of that. The problem was control. It had a wild, reckless way of fighting, charging into things headfirst (literally) with no thought of defense or stamina. That was fine for quick battles, but if we were going to make it through an entire League challenge, it needed endurance. And more than that, it needed speed.
Fuecoco had strength, but it wasn't fast—not yet.
So that's where our training began.
We stood in the open fields just outside Wedgehurst, where the grass stretched wide under a sky smeared with early morning gold. Dew clung to the leaves, and every now and then, a Rookidee or Wooloo would pass by, eyeing us curiously before moving along.
Fuecoco stood in front of me, tail flicking impatiently. "What are we doing?" it asked in its own language, tilting its head. "Are we fighting?"
"Not yet," I replied in Fuecoco's tongue. "We're working on speed and endurance."
It let out a dissatisfied grunt. "I like fighting."
I smirked. "You'll like winning more. And for that, you need to get faster."
Fuecoco huffed, but it didn't argue. That was progress.
I started simple: running drills.
"See that tree?" I pointed to a sturdy oak a good fifty meters away. "Run to it. Then run back. Do that ten times."
Fuecoco blinked at me. "That's stupid."
I sighed. "It's training."
Fuecoco grumbled, but after a moment, it took off at a clumsy sprint. Its short legs churned as fast as they could, but it wasn't exactly graceful. When it reached the tree, it skidded to a stop, barely managing to turn itself around before making the return trip.
By the fifth lap, its pace had slowed considerably. By the eighth, it was practically dragging itself forward.
Fuecoco slumped onto the grass, panting hard. "This… is… boring."
I crossed my arms. "And this is why you get tired in battle. If you want to use Extreme Speed, you need to be able to move for more than five minutes without collapsing."
Fuecoco growled. "I don't need to be fast if I just hit things harder."
I crouched down to its level, meeting its glare with a calm gaze. "Speed isn't just about dodging. It's about striking first, striking faster, and striking before your opponent can react. You like winning, don't you?"
Fuecoco hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Then let's do it again. This time, fifteen laps."
Fuecoco groaned but stood up. And it ran.
Fuecoco had no natural speed-based moves, so I needed to train it to push itself harder. We set up a course—small logs, uneven terrain, and distant targets. The goal was to build burst speed—the kind needed to close the distance fast.
"Alright," I said, standing at the end of the path. "Your goal is to reach me as fast as you can."
Fuecoco crouched low, wiggling excitedly.
"…Without tripping," I added.
Fuecoco immediately stopped wiggling.
"Go!"
It took off, rushing forward in a straight line—but when it hit the uneven patches, it stumbled. When it reached the logs, it jumped too late, nearly tumbling over.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Fuecoco failed more times than I could count. But every time, it got back up, growling in frustration and demanding another attempt. It wasn't the fastest learner, but it was determined.
And then, after hours of drilling—after sweat, frustration, and exhaustion—Fuecoco got it right.
It launched forward, body low, balancing itself as it rushed over uneven ground. It leapt at the right moment, barely skimming over the logs, and landed smoothly before barreling straight toward me with everything it had.
That was what I'd been waiting for.
"Extreme Speed isn't just about running fast," I explained. "It's about bursting forward in an instant. But imagine if you combined that with an attack—hitting so fast the enemy couldn't dodge?"
Fuecoco perked up. "That sounds fun."
I smirked. "Good. Now, let's add Ember."
Fuecoco already had a strong Ember attack, but it always stopped to use it. That was the problem. If it could learn to fire while moving, then we'd have something deadly.
The first few attempts were… bad.
Fuecoco would start running, then stop completely to use Ember—defeating the whole point.
Again.
It tried using Ember mid-run, but it lost its balance.
Again.
It tried spitting fire before running, but the timing was off.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until finally… it clicked.
Fuecoco shot forward, moving faster than ever. As it reached the midpoint of its acceleration, it exhaled fire mid-run—not just a single burst, but a continuous stream of flames that trailed behind it. It didn't stop. It didn't slow down. It blazed through the battlefield, wrapped in its own fire.
A smile stretched across my face. "Now that is what I'm talking about."
Fuecoco panted, eyes shining. "Did… did I do it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. You did."
Fuecoco grinned wildly, then let out a satisfied puff of smoke. "I like this move."
I ruffled its head. "Good. Because this is gonna be your signature attack."
Fuecoco's eyes burned with determination. "Then let's make it even stronger."
I smirked. "I like the way you think."
This was just the beginning.
Training a Pokémon like Fuecoco wasn't easy. Not because it lacked power—it had plenty of that. The problem was control. It had a wild, reckless way of fighting, charging into things headfirst (literally) with no thought of defense or stamina. That was fine for quick battles, but if we were going to make it through an entire League challenge, it needed endurance. And more than that, it needed speed.
Fuecoco had strength, but it wasn't fast—not yet.
So that's where our training began.
We stood in the open fields just outside Wedgehurst, where the grass stretched wide under a sky smeared with early morning gold. Dew clung to the leaves, and every now and then, a Rookidee or Wooloo would pass by, eyeing us curiously before moving along.
Fuecoco stood in front of me, tail flicking impatiently. "What are we doing?" it asked in its own language, tilting its head. "Are we fighting?"
"Not yet," I replied in Fuecoco's tongue. "We're working on speed and endurance."
It let out a dissatisfied grunt. "I like fighting."
I smirked. "You'll like winning more. And for that, you need to get faster."
Fuecoco huffed, but it didn't argue. That was progress.
Phase 1: Endurance Training
First things first: stamina. A battle isn't just about one or two strong moves; it's about lasting longer than your opponent. If Fuecoco was going to develop a strong combo move, it needed to keep up the pace.I started simple: running drills.
"See that tree?" I pointed to a sturdy oak a good fifty meters away. "Run to it. Then run back. Do that ten times."
Fuecoco blinked at me. "That's stupid."
I sighed. "It's training."
Fuecoco grumbled, but after a moment, it took off at a clumsy sprint. Its short legs churned as fast as they could, but it wasn't exactly graceful. When it reached the tree, it skidded to a stop, barely managing to turn itself around before making the return trip.
By the fifth lap, its pace had slowed considerably. By the eighth, it was practically dragging itself forward.
Fuecoco slumped onto the grass, panting hard. "This… is… boring."
I crossed my arms. "And this is why you get tired in battle. If you want to use Extreme Speed, you need to be able to move for more than five minutes without collapsing."
Fuecoco growled. "I don't need to be fast if I just hit things harder."
I crouched down to its level, meeting its glare with a calm gaze. "Speed isn't just about dodging. It's about striking first, striking faster, and striking before your opponent can react. You like winning, don't you?"
Fuecoco hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Then let's do it again. This time, fifteen laps."
Fuecoco groaned but stood up. And it ran.
Phase 2: Speed Drills
Once Fuecoco could run laps without slowing down, we moved to acceleration drills.Fuecoco had no natural speed-based moves, so I needed to train it to push itself harder. We set up a course—small logs, uneven terrain, and distant targets. The goal was to build burst speed—the kind needed to close the distance fast.
"Alright," I said, standing at the end of the path. "Your goal is to reach me as fast as you can."
Fuecoco crouched low, wiggling excitedly.
"…Without tripping," I added.
Fuecoco immediately stopped wiggling.
"Go!"
It took off, rushing forward in a straight line—but when it hit the uneven patches, it stumbled. When it reached the logs, it jumped too late, nearly tumbling over.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Fuecoco failed more times than I could count. But every time, it got back up, growling in frustration and demanding another attempt. It wasn't the fastest learner, but it was determined.
And then, after hours of drilling—after sweat, frustration, and exhaustion—Fuecoco got it right.
It launched forward, body low, balancing itself as it rushed over uneven ground. It leapt at the right moment, barely skimming over the logs, and landed smoothly before barreling straight toward me with everything it had.
That was what I'd been waiting for.
Phase 3: Ember + Extreme Speed Combo
Now that Fuecoco could move quickly, it was time to introduce firepower."Extreme Speed isn't just about running fast," I explained. "It's about bursting forward in an instant. But imagine if you combined that with an attack—hitting so fast the enemy couldn't dodge?"
Fuecoco perked up. "That sounds fun."
I smirked. "Good. Now, let's add Ember."
Fuecoco already had a strong Ember attack, but it always stopped to use it. That was the problem. If it could learn to fire while moving, then we'd have something deadly.
The first few attempts were… bad.
Fuecoco would start running, then stop completely to use Ember—defeating the whole point.
Again.
It tried using Ember mid-run, but it lost its balance.
Again.
It tried spitting fire before running, but the timing was off.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until finally… it clicked.
Fuecoco shot forward, moving faster than ever. As it reached the midpoint of its acceleration, it exhaled fire mid-run—not just a single burst, but a continuous stream of flames that trailed behind it. It didn't stop. It didn't slow down. It blazed through the battlefield, wrapped in its own fire.
A smile stretched across my face. "Now that is what I'm talking about."
Fuecoco panted, eyes shining. "Did… did I do it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. You did."
Fuecoco grinned wildly, then let out a satisfied puff of smoke. "I like this move."
I ruffled its head. "Good. Because this is gonna be your signature attack."
Fuecoco's eyes burned with determination. "Then let's make it even stronger."
I smirked. "I like the way you think."
This was just the beginning.
Discovery 1.8
The sun was setting by the time we wrapped up training, its golden glow stretching long shadows across the open field. Fuecoco flopped onto its back, exhausted but grinning, tail flicking lazily as it gazed at the sky.
"That was fun," it said in its usual growly, rumbling voice. "I like this move."
I sat beside it, wiping some soot off my sleeve. "Yeah, it's strong. Fast. Hard to dodge. Now all it needs is a name."
Fuecoco's eyes lit up. "A name?"
"Of course. Every good move should have one." I leaned back on my elbows, tilting my head toward it. "Something that suits it. Got any ideas?"
Fuecoco hummed, tapping its tiny claws against its belly in thought.
"Fire Dash!"
I made a face. "Too simple."
"Flame Rush?"
"Boring."
"Blazing Sprint?"
"Sounds like something from a cheap move tutor."
Fuecoco growled, rolling onto its stomach. "Then you name it, oh wise and all-powerful trainer."
I smirked. "You're the one using it. It should be something that feels right to you."
Fuecoco narrowed its eyes in deep thought. "What about… "Phoenix's Dash.?"
I clicked my tongue, considering. "Not bad. But it needs something more you."
Fuecoco thought harder, tail thumping against the dirt. Then, suddenly, its eyes gleamed with mischief. It turned to me, its grin toothy and wide. "I got it."
I leaned in. "Let's hear it."
Fuecoco growled the previous name low and proud in our shared language.
I blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across my face.
"That's perfect."
We bumped fists—or well, fist to tiny claw—our secret.
Naming the move was one thing. Making sure Fuecoco only responded to me calling it out? That was another challenge entirely.
I wanted an edge in battle—something no opponent could predict. Most trainers called out commands in human language, and that meant their strategies could be overheard. If Fuecoco only responded when I used its native tongue, it would give us a layer of secrecy no one else had.
So we started the next phase of training.
"Alright," I said, standing a few paces away from Fuecoco. "I'm going to say different move names. You only move when you hear the real one."
Fuecoco nodded, crouching low.
I took a deep breath. "Ember!"
Fuecoco didn't move.
"Flamethrower!"
Still no reaction.
I grinned. Now for the real test.
I switched into Fuecoco's language and shouted its new move's name.
Fuecoco exploded into action, charging forward in a fiery blur, flames licking at its body as it sped across the battlefield. The sheer momentum carried it past me, skidding to a halt before whipping around excitedly.
"I love this!" it cackled.
I smirked. "Good. Because we're going to drill it until it's second nature."
We repeated it. Again. And again. And again. Each time, I threw in distractions—calling out other moves, trying to fake it out, even having Sonia (who had, of course, started taking notes again) yell random commands to test if Fuecoco would budge.
It never did.
But the moment I spoke in Fuecoco language?
Boom.
A streak of fire. A burst of speed. A perfect execution.
After the final successful run, Fuecoco flopped onto its back, panting hard but grinning wide. "I think… I might be the smartest Fuecoco ever."
I laughed, sitting beside it. "You might be. But we're not done yet."
Fuecoco groaned. "Of course we're not."
I smirked, looking up at the sky. The stars were starting to peek out, winking like little sparks of fire.
This was just the beginning.
Hours passed as we drilled, our movements fluid, and precise. I would shout in the language of Fuecoco, and only then would he move—fire trailing behind him like a comet as he zipped across the battlefield. If I gave the command in human speech, he would stay rooted in place, unmoving, unwavering. It was a test of control.
But then, as we rested beneath the fading sun, Fuecoco turned to me, his expression unusually solemn.
"This move will be more than just ours," he murmured. "It must be sworn into truth."
I stilled. I knew what he was asking.
Fuecoco stepped forward, eyes gleaming with the light of something ancient, something primal. He took a deep breath, and with a voice strong and unwavering, he spoke:
"On the name of Moltres, guardian of fire, I swear this oath: 'Phoenix's Dash' shall be mine and mine alone. No command shall stir me to it, save for the tongue of my kind."
The world paused.
The earth rumbled beneath us. The wind howled, twisting into a scorching heat. The sky darkened—not with storm clouds, but with the presence of something vast. Something old. Something watching.
Fuecoco didn't flinch. He stood firm, chest puffed out, his fire brighter than ever.
The presence settled, the weight of it pressing against my Aura like an unseen flame licking at my soul. But it was Fuecoco that it focused on—not me.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, it passed.
The world returned to normal. The wind died down. The earth was still. The sky was clear.
Fuecoco exhaled, his fire pulsing once, strong and steady. Then he turned to me, eyes shining.
"Now," he said, "it is truth."
"That was fun," it said in its usual growly, rumbling voice. "I like this move."
I sat beside it, wiping some soot off my sleeve. "Yeah, it's strong. Fast. Hard to dodge. Now all it needs is a name."
Fuecoco's eyes lit up. "A name?"
"Of course. Every good move should have one." I leaned back on my elbows, tilting my head toward it. "Something that suits it. Got any ideas?"
Fuecoco hummed, tapping its tiny claws against its belly in thought.
"Fire Dash!"
I made a face. "Too simple."
"Flame Rush?"
"Boring."
"Blazing Sprint?"
"Sounds like something from a cheap move tutor."
Fuecoco growled, rolling onto its stomach. "Then you name it, oh wise and all-powerful trainer."
I smirked. "You're the one using it. It should be something that feels right to you."
Fuecoco narrowed its eyes in deep thought. "What about… "Phoenix's Dash.?"
I clicked my tongue, considering. "Not bad. But it needs something more you."
Fuecoco thought harder, tail thumping against the dirt. Then, suddenly, its eyes gleamed with mischief. It turned to me, its grin toothy and wide. "I got it."
I leaned in. "Let's hear it."
Fuecoco growled the previous name low and proud in our shared language.
I blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across my face.
"That's perfect."
We bumped fists—or well, fist to tiny claw—our secret.
Naming the move was one thing. Making sure Fuecoco only responded to me calling it out? That was another challenge entirely.
I wanted an edge in battle—something no opponent could predict. Most trainers called out commands in human language, and that meant their strategies could be overheard. If Fuecoco only responded when I used its native tongue, it would give us a layer of secrecy no one else had.
So we started the next phase of training.
"Alright," I said, standing a few paces away from Fuecoco. "I'm going to say different move names. You only move when you hear the real one."
Fuecoco nodded, crouching low.
I took a deep breath. "Ember!"
Fuecoco didn't move.
"Flamethrower!"
Still no reaction.
I grinned. Now for the real test.
I switched into Fuecoco's language and shouted its new move's name.
Fuecoco exploded into action, charging forward in a fiery blur, flames licking at its body as it sped across the battlefield. The sheer momentum carried it past me, skidding to a halt before whipping around excitedly.
"I love this!" it cackled.
I smirked. "Good. Because we're going to drill it until it's second nature."
We repeated it. Again. And again. And again. Each time, I threw in distractions—calling out other moves, trying to fake it out, even having Sonia (who had, of course, started taking notes again) yell random commands to test if Fuecoco would budge.
It never did.
But the moment I spoke in Fuecoco language?
Boom.
A streak of fire. A burst of speed. A perfect execution.
After the final successful run, Fuecoco flopped onto its back, panting hard but grinning wide. "I think… I might be the smartest Fuecoco ever."
I laughed, sitting beside it. "You might be. But we're not done yet."
Fuecoco groaned. "Of course we're not."
I smirked, looking up at the sky. The stars were starting to peek out, winking like little sparks of fire.
This was just the beginning.
Hours passed as we drilled, our movements fluid, and precise. I would shout in the language of Fuecoco, and only then would he move—fire trailing behind him like a comet as he zipped across the battlefield. If I gave the command in human speech, he would stay rooted in place, unmoving, unwavering. It was a test of control.
But then, as we rested beneath the fading sun, Fuecoco turned to me, his expression unusually solemn.
"This move will be more than just ours," he murmured. "It must be sworn into truth."
I stilled. I knew what he was asking.
Fuecoco stepped forward, eyes gleaming with the light of something ancient, something primal. He took a deep breath, and with a voice strong and unwavering, he spoke:
"On the name of Moltres, guardian of fire, I swear this oath: 'Phoenix's Dash' shall be mine and mine alone. No command shall stir me to it, save for the tongue of my kind."
The world paused.
The earth rumbled beneath us. The wind howled, twisting into a scorching heat. The sky darkened—not with storm clouds, but with the presence of something vast. Something old. Something watching.
Fuecoco didn't flinch. He stood firm, chest puffed out, his fire brighter than ever.
The presence settled, the weight of it pressing against my Aura like an unseen flame licking at my soul. But it was Fuecoco that it focused on—not me.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, it passed.
The world returned to normal. The wind died down. The earth was still. The sky was clear.
Fuecoco exhaled, his fire pulsing once, strong and steady. Then he turned to me, eyes shining.
"Now," he said, "it is truth."
Discovery 1.9
As the sky settled and the last echoes of Moltres' attention faded into the wind, I let out a slow breath, watching Fuecoco. He had returned to pacing, flames flickering along his back, acting as if swearing a binding oath to a primordial entity was just another part of training.
He had no fear. No hesitation. Just reckless, defiant bravery.
And that was what made my little fire belly so dangerous.
Most Pokémon, most people, would have felt the weight of Moltres' gaze and faltered. They would have seen that storm-churning presence for what it was—something beyond human or Pokémon understanding, something ancient and untamed. But Fuecoco? No. He stood taller. Faced it head-on.
And Moltres had answered.
I knew enough about it to understand what had happened. Legendary Pokémon were not gods, not in the way some mortals thought. But all Legendary and Mythical Pokemon especially the oldest among them—the ones tied to the forces of nature itself—were more than just beings of power. They were concepts given form.
Moltres was not a simple firebird. It was the very idea of Fire and Summer. It was destruction and renewal, the inferno that razed forests so new life could grow, the relentless heat that tested all things. And it had no morality as humans understood it. No good. No evil. Only purpose.
So when Fuecoco swore on its name, Moltres had not judged him as a human might. It had acknowledged him. Weighed him. Found him… interesting.
I exhaled, leaning back on my hands, watching my partner.
He was so small, in the grand scheme of things. A tiny, stubby, fire-croaking reptile. And yet, with nothing but his conviction, he had turned the gaze of an eldritch force upon himself.
Had Moltres found him worthy? Had it been amused? Or was it merely waiting to see what he would become?
Fuecoco suddenly stopped pacing, tilting his head at me. "You're staring."
I smirked. "You do reckless things. I have to make sure you don't explode."
He let out a small huff, flames puffing from his nostrils. "You wouldn't stop me anyway."
I chuckled, shaking my head. No, I wouldn't.
Moltres had seen my little fire belly. It had recognized him.
Now, it was up to Fuecoco to prove he could burn bright enough to keep its attention.
He had no fear. No hesitation. Just reckless, defiant bravery.
And that was what made my little fire belly so dangerous.
Most Pokémon, most people, would have felt the weight of Moltres' gaze and faltered. They would have seen that storm-churning presence for what it was—something beyond human or Pokémon understanding, something ancient and untamed. But Fuecoco? No. He stood taller. Faced it head-on.
And Moltres had answered.
I knew enough about it to understand what had happened. Legendary Pokémon were not gods, not in the way some mortals thought. But all Legendary and Mythical Pokemon especially the oldest among them—the ones tied to the forces of nature itself—were more than just beings of power. They were concepts given form.
Moltres was not a simple firebird. It was the very idea of Fire and Summer. It was destruction and renewal, the inferno that razed forests so new life could grow, the relentless heat that tested all things. And it had no morality as humans understood it. No good. No evil. Only purpose.
So when Fuecoco swore on its name, Moltres had not judged him as a human might. It had acknowledged him. Weighed him. Found him… interesting.
I exhaled, leaning back on my hands, watching my partner.
He was so small, in the grand scheme of things. A tiny, stubby, fire-croaking reptile. And yet, with nothing but his conviction, he had turned the gaze of an eldritch force upon himself.
Had Moltres found him worthy? Had it been amused? Or was it merely waiting to see what he would become?
Fuecoco suddenly stopped pacing, tilting his head at me. "You're staring."
I smirked. "You do reckless things. I have to make sure you don't explode."
He let out a small huff, flames puffing from his nostrils. "You wouldn't stop me anyway."
I chuckled, shaking my head. No, I wouldn't.
Moltres had seen my little fire belly. It had recognized him.
Now, it was up to Fuecoco to prove he could burn bright enough to keep its attention.