Chapter Text
“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”
Fangs sank into his shoulder and injected him with Shadowy venom. The cold was unlike anything he’d felt before, even past the rot Anam’s shadows had once inflicted.
The Hydreigon tore away, keeping Nevren’s arm while letting the rest of him fall to the dirt. The searing pain was nothing new, but that coldness was and it left him rattled.
“Is something wrong?” Alexander said with a sick grin.
Yes, something was. Nevren’s eyes darted about, looking for an exit. He focused on an area just beyond the miasma, readying a Teleport—
Alexander’s main fangs seeped into Nevren’s neck. He gurgled as black ichor spewed from his mouth, dribbling down his chin. Some acidic Shadow venom coursed through his body.
With his one good hand, Nevren reached for his Revisor. With his smaller heads, Alexander clamped onto his wrist and elbow. All three heads grinned, holding him there, inches from activating it. Nevren couldn’t send a Psychic wave to it. He was cut off.
A smaller head let go of his elbow. “Did you really think you could control me?” that smaller head whispered into Nevren’s ear.
Fresh coldness coursed through his veins. He felt his blood turn to black sludge that slithered through his heart and into his muscles and bones. He should have been dying, yet he wasn’t. Alexander wouldn’t let him. Every second felt like ten. His eyes darted about, reflexively trying to Teleport each time.
And then ninety seconds passed. Nevren’s Dead Man’s Switch activated.
“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”
But he remembered, mid-sentence, that Alexander would attack. He disappeared, dodging left. He knew Alexander would strike there and the momentum would send Alexander toppling forward. He’d use that instant to escape.
Nevren glanced left—
And suddenly, Nevren went toppling from a stinging, agonizing cold against his back. He coughed out blood that was already tinged with black Shadows.
What?
Alexander had done a light punch that time. He hadn’t toppled over. He’d pivoted instantly to blast Nevren instead.
Nevren skidded on the ground, unable to move his legs. He didn’t know how many seconds that had been—three? He had to endure another eighty-seven.
“You knew,” Alexander muttered. “You knew where my attack would come from.”
Nevren squinted. Everything was blurry. But he could Teleport. “I suppose I’m just lucky,” Nevren wheezed.
Then he vanished, only having the energy to get a few hundred meters away. But it had to do. He’d missed the height and appeared several feet in the air, landing hard in the dust of Alexander’s Voidland trail.
He took a few of those remaining seconds to breathe and assess his injuries. The adrenaline wore off, the throbbing, hot-cold sting taking its place. He was missing a foot; the blast had torn up his back. When did that happen? This was no condition to rule. He had to Revise again.
Alexander drifted toward him, looking pensive as he dashed to catch up. By Nevren’s estimates, he’d have to endure twenty seconds of pain before it would go off. He’d already set it to Revise automatically. He wanted no extra second of this.
Nevren squeezed his eyes shut, bracing.
SLAM!
He’d heard something and his body jolted, but there was no pain.
“Tch.”
Nevren peeked. Alexander’s right head had burrowed into Nevren’s thigh.
“Hit you too hard, did I? You didn’t feel a thing.”
He pulled the head out and aimed his left one at Nevren’s chest.
“It’s fine,” Alexander said.
What’s happening? Why is he… different? He’s not behaving the same, why is—
“I’ll do a lighter shot next time.”
The world rewound.
“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”
Dodge left. Alexander missed. Duck. Shadows careened over Nevren’s head, singing his back. That shot was faster than last time. Had to Teleport—
Suddenly, Nevren was on his belly, blood trickling down his forehead.
He gasped awake and tried to roll over, only to realize that Alexander had pinned him to the ground by the shoulders.
“Ninety seconds. That’s how long you must endure.” Alexander brought his main head over Nevren’s, resting it between the horns of Nevren’s star-shaped face. “Does it also undo death?”
Nevren tried to Teleport. It was shot.
“Let’s find out.”
Fangs sank into Nevren’s skull. First came pressure, and then he heard a sickening crack, a pain he couldn’t begin to think about, and then nothing.
He floated in a sea of darkness. Countless hands dug into his spirit, plunging him deeper. He started to enjoy it, and then he stopped thinking about it. Seconds became an abstract concept. And then…
“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”
Left. Down. Teleport—
No! His Teleport was already shot, just from Alexander’s sheer overwhelming presence. What was happening?
Nevren glanced at his wrists and gasped. Alexander hadn’t fired a blast of Shadows this time—instead, thin little strings had tethered themselves to Nevren’s wrists and arms. Those were what stopped his Teleporting… Some holding attack that pierced even his best escape attempts.
“You died,” Alexander said, an amused lilt in his voice. He spoke as if he’d just found out.
Someone was telling him. Somehow, he was being fed information about—
Alexander dashed into Nevren when he blinked. Before he could react, Alexander bit into his ribs, cracking several. He tossed Nevren like a ragdoll and the strings pulled taut. Alexander jerked them back and slammed Nevren into the ground, breaking the rest of them along with at least a few limbs.
“I’m guessing it’s tied to you. So many little failsafes… You were killed before. Caught off guard before. You probably lost it by accident a few times, too. But each time, you found an escape… eventually. Because we all acted the same each time, yes? Very, very clever… What a unique little talent you have.”
Blood clogged Nevren’s airways. It was getting dark. He focused on how to escape, or how Alexander was—was bypassing it. He was remembering, rapidly, from…
The Voidlands. Alexander was a gateway there, to the farthest reaches where his Revisor, in Kilo, could not reach. His Shadow spirits, watching… filled him in on what they were seeing.
Those Shadows were an extension of Alexander’s being. He existed across multiple planes of reality at once. He couldn’t… Revise him!
Now that he thought about it, if Owen was in the depths of the Worldcore, from what he’d learned from the Hearts’ communications… that explained his resistance, too. Was that another realm? Or…
His wandering thoughts soothed him. He wasn’t sure what Alexander was doing to his body at this point but it was violent, slamming him on the ground like a ragdoll. But, once again…
“This is such a waste of time,” Nevren muttered, shrugging. He glanced back. “Alexander, prepare the—”
Left, Teleport. Yes! He’d made it. It was only brief, but he’d—
A Shadow Blast struck Nevren on the shoulder. He wailed from this one, mostly out of pure frustration than anything else, as he held his shoulder and realized he already had to Revise, again, to deal with this kind of injury.
“Did that one hurt?” Alexander asked with that same entertained lilt in his voice.
Nevren readied another Teleport, startled by the pain, but Alexander was faster. Those tethering binds stuck into his wrists again, leaving no pain but a pressure that he couldn’t escape. His muscles refused to listen when he tried to gain any distance.
Alexander slowly drifted closer, savoring every second as Nevren’s heart pumped faster. He wondered if Alexander could feel that feral anticipation.
“Oh, Nevren,” Alexander said, “I should be thanking you.”
He brought his right head to Nevren’s shoulder. The fangs seeped in slower. Nevren only realized then that he’d been completely paralyzed by… was this fear? Had he completely frozen, waiting for the reset? Was he waiting like some feral prey for the slaughter?
Alexander’s red pupils glinted like he’d been given the world’s treasures.
“Someone I can kill over and over again… someone who so assuredly deserves every death… the complete isolation you feel from both worlds…
“Will they blame me if I… savored this?”
Ten seconds. He had only ten seconds left of this.
And then he’d escape.
Please, he had to escape.
<><><>
“You’re going to confront Alexander, Owen. But that is where the fatal flaw will arise.”
“What? I’m… going to lose to him?”
“It won’t matter. I can’t tell you much more, Owen, or it may alter your path too far in the other direction. Just know… of what I saw, remember something: Practicality over poetry.”
<><><>
Owen left little trails of embers from his tail as he flew over Kiloan forces, all marching toward the encroaching red horizon. They seemed to be conversing with something—communications between the two sides? Owen frowned, pensive. What good would that do?
But just as Owen began his descent to the front lines, the side with Alexander and Nevren seemed to blossom with countless copies of Hydreigon and Alakazam swarming around the field, see-through and overlaid on top of each other. Owen felt a mild headache coming on. It felt like he was watching—remembering?—the same thing happening in different ways all at once. He moved forward, his body seemingly going on its own.
He watched himself in overlays while he forcibly followed one of those many paths. Countless phantoms of his own body flew in slightly different directions. He had no idea how he saw himself or what trickery this was.
And ahead, he saw countless instances of Nevren being caught by Alexander, ripped apart, blasted, shredded… All except for a single pair more solid than all the others. In this one, Nevren dodged each one, and Alexander only half-heartedly chased after him, looking somewhere between bored and entertained.
For this solid pair, Nevren scrambled away like a wounded feral, despite having no blemish on him. He disappeared and reappeared many feet away and then blasted a strange portal into the ground, falling into it without any sense of caution. It was the only instance where it happened, and during it, Alexander laughed and shouted something as the Alakazam fled. Owen couldn’t hear it.
And then, all the phantoms disappeared like they’d never happened.
“Aghh…” Owen rubbed his forehead. That was weird. What was that? All his phantoms had also vanished. And he’d regained free movement again.
“Owen!” Anam called from far below.
Reminded of where he was, Owen tucked his wings and dropped to the ground. With a quick updraft, he slowed his fall just in time.
“Anam! Did you see that?”
“Yeah!” Anam said. “The communication just… disappeared! I think Alexander attacked Nevren!”
“Yeah, but did you see the part where it happened a thousand times?” Owen asked quickly.
“Where it… what?” Anam tilted his head.
The Hearts nearest to them also looked confused. Communications were coming back on and it seemed each squadron representative was sorting things out with the other.
Nobody else remembered.
“Was it… a Revisor thing?” Anam asked. “But we don’t remember those… Only the final one.”
“Yeah.” Owen seemed pensive. “I saw Nevren run through a Dungeon portal with his Dungeon maker. He’s probably… No, I know where he went. He’s probably at Quartz HQ. But that could be a serious problem.”
Because even if they defeated Alexander, Nevren would have more and more time to regroup. And he still had Ghrelle’s Dark Matter remnant, didn’t he?
“He’s advancing again!” cried a scout.
“Oh no—we’re still disorganized!” Anam said. “Okay, let’s—”
“I’ll buy time,” Owen said, nodding. “Get everyone ready!”
“Owen—”
Owen left Anam to do the leading for now. Once he got backup, the fight would be a lot easier.
The Charizard closed his eyes. He tapped into that same, ravenous feeling for battle like before. He planned to give Alexander no warmup. Hecto was enough of one for Owen anyway, and it seemed like Alexander already had his own with Nevren.
Soon, Alexander entered his Perceive range—which taught Owen that he could not rely on it very much. Alexander’s internals had become entirely amorphous. It reminded Owen of Anam when he’d been using Diyem’s power. Emily, too.
He pressed onward, knowing that trying to attack from afar wouldn’t do much. Alexander was too mobile from afar. Had to get closer…
It seemed everyone became part Void Shadow with enough of Diyem’s direct influence…
Owen brought his arm back, forming a javelin with one of the Hands.
Alexander’s eyes widened with a frenzied glee. He was going to dodge right. Even with Alexander’s amorphous body, Owen sensed the beginnings of that dash. As the prismatic light flaked off of Owen, revealing black scales and a blue front, Owen pivoted to follow Alexander’s movement an instant before the Hydreigon could react.
Abruptly, Alexander’s left head fired at Owen’s chest at point-blank range.
With a wail, Owen missed his arm and instead grazed Alexander’s neck, piercing the crest of his shoulder’s mane and doing little else. He beat his wings hard and gained extra distance.
“One treat after the other,” Alexander said as he rushed Owen, unaffected by the wind from the Charizard’s wings.
Owen quickly separated them with a Chaos Protect, white and black sparks splashing in all directions when Alexander smashed into it. The sheer impact left a crack in the barrier as Owen struggled to his feet. Shadow fissures cracked the ground like a bullet through glass, rotting what little of the grass remained. It all became red ash.
Owen pressed his foot into the ground and channeled his energy into it. Then, as the Protect faded, he pushed back to gain some distance.
Alexander closed the gap, predictably, and the Grass Trap erupted beneath him. Radiant vines ensnared Alexander, sizzling his scales. They strained and groaned against Alexander’s momentum but held firm. Owen had seconds and seized them, blasting Alexander point-blank with blue flames.
“RRRRAAAGH!”
Scorched scales peeled off Alexander’s face as Owen kept up the flames, stepping closer to further concentrate the blast. Boiling black ichor spattered on the vines, withering and weakening them by the second.
The vines snapped. Owen brought up his Hand, once again a javelin, and aimed for below Alexander’s jaw and through his skull—only to again miss, this time nicking his cheek.
Alexander hardly had a face anymore, just two glaring eyes surrounded by melting Void Shadow material.
Owen beat his wings, kicking up dust and blue embers that swirled in the air. The heat lightly obscured Alexander’s fierce expression…
Only to realize that despite it all, Alexander was laughing.
For now, Owen couldn’t find a good opening. He kept up his guard, holding his favored Hand as a javelin that extended behind him into a long, winding whip.
“Can’t we enjoy this?” Alexander said. “Come on. It isn’t every day you get to use all your power against someone.”
“Only got this sort of power recently,” Owen replied. Talking was fine. It bought the Hearts extra time.
“Same here.” Alexander’s eyes widened even more. His grin stretched more than his face should’ve allowed, showing a long row of glistening, obsidian teeth. “A whole realm inside of me, powering me, submitting to me.”
“Spirits you’ve enslaved,” Owen countered, pointing his divine javelin toward the Hydreigon. It was so long that its tip was only a few feet removed from Alexander’s face. Perhaps, if he concentrated, he could extend it… but it’d be too slow. Alexander seemed keen to guard his head.
“Oh, and are you any different?” Alexander asked. “I can sense a realm of spirits in you, too. Your connection to the aura sea… Did it get stronger?”
“It’s the Worldcore,” Owen said.
“The Worldcore…” For a moment, Alexander was mystified. But then, he seemed to have a flash of realization. “You really made such a pact?”
“I made one a thousand years ago,” Owen said. “…How do you know about it?”
Alexander’s smile wavered. This time, it was… pensive. Then, he shrugged. “I sifted through Dark Matter’s memories and made them my own. All that pain and sorrow… but that knowledge, too. Knowledge of what this world is, was, and will always be. And a realization that Dark Matter had it all wrong. He suffered from others’ suffering. I am fueled by it. Suffering is a universal constant… So why not indulge in what will always be there?”
“He wanted to end it,” Owen replied. “Don’t warp his power into—”
“I am his power now, Owen,” Alexander said. “Have you ever noticed how weak your precious Diyem is now? I have already usurped his throne as the god opposite to yours.”
Alexander drifted toward the javelin and grasped at it with his right hand. Owen’s heart skipped a beat; it felt… cold. He could feel through the javelin a deep wrongness from this contact.
He pulled away quickly, jerking the Hand back and cutting Alexander’s right jaw in the process. Little flecks of Shadows peeled off the javelin, which had briefly lost its glow. With some focus, it returned.
“Then they’re really opposites,” Owen muttered.
“Perhaps,” Alexander said. “But now that I say it, I have a better word. I say your side is… disposable.”
Owen glanced at the incoming army of Hearts. A few more seconds.
“Owen,” Alexander said.
He didn’t answer. He only glared.
“I must confess something.”
Owen’s scaly brow raised. The blue fire that spewed from his jaws reminded him that he had to fight, he needed to feel flesh through his claws, but patience won out. He was better than that.
“I’m not fighting you at my best.”
“What do you mean?”
Alexander’s grin only widened. And then, suddenly, a cacophony of cries and shouts exploded from the Hearts’ front lines.
“I have an army, too.”
Cold realization gripped Owen’s stomach. Patience died in that instant and he closed the gap between them.
<><><>
They came out of the ground. All at once, just as they passed over an imaginary line in the soil, Void Shadows burst forth and enveloped entire Hearts in an instant. All were freed—these were Kilo’s best—but many had been injured, darkened, or left too frightened to hold a battle stance.
And that was only the beginning.
“Watch their eyes!” Jerry roared, blasting at an exact doppelganger of himself with eyes that didn’t shine like a living Pokémon’s should. One, two, three rocks pelted the dark Aerodactyl, puncturing holes through its frail, false body. It melted into the ground as nothing but strange tar, but it still stirred. Not down, but stunned.
“Don’t attack each other!” Anam called. He was a few squadrons down, swinging his tail to take out several Void Shadows as they were still forming. He channeled a faint black aura in his hands and blocked an incoming Void Shadow’s claw swipe, only to take a flaming fist to the jaw a second later from Phol.
“Not me!” Anam said.
“Ngh—” Phol hopped back. “Sorry, I—”
“KRAAAAH!” A Scyther jumped from behind Phol, blades ready to cut him into quarters. A Flamethrower turned it to Void ash that blew away to regroup.
“Avoid any Shadow powers,” said Phol’s savior—a serious-faced Charizard with a black flame. “I can’t help it, but you can. It’ll confuse our forces right now!”
A quintet of Void Shadows—each one a different, monstrous form—stampeded their way closer. Diyem cursed and took on a defensive stance, spreading his wings.
A dark rift appeared just ahead of the Void Shadows. Out came Madeline as a Giratina, twisting and reshaping into a Goodra of the same colors as the five Void Shadows spattered on the ground, inert.
“No you don’t!”
From her shadow, Decidueye James emerged and readied a feathery arrow. Madeline touched the base of the arrow; her hand glowed with Radiant energy, and then James fired. The arrow struck a Void Shadow’s melted form, followed by a Radiant explosion that incinerated all five. Little blue wisps remained, which flowed skyward.
“Radiance… Yes. Keep doing that,” Diyem said.
“I’m guessing you can’t control these ones?” Madeline asked.
“Alexander trumps me now,” Diyem spat.
“Wonderful.” Madeline stomped to defend Diyem as James took to the skies to scout where the Hearts needed more help.
“We have to get to Owen,” Anam reminded. “Let’s try to carve a path, and, um…”
“Advancing suddenly got a lot harder,” Jerry said. A new surge of cries meant the Void Shadows were returning.
Jerry and Anam stood back-to-back, both readying blasts to counter the next wave.
“We have to try,” Anam pressed.
“I know, I know,” Jerry muttered.
“Send word to command,” Madeline ordered. “Make sure Xerneas is ready! We’re preparing for an advance… Expect losses!”
Anam winced.
“Tch. Don’t get nervous,” Jerry said. “That’s what Xerneas is for.”
“But if they get Voided…”
“That’s what you’re for.” Jerry’s spaded tail thwacked the ground just as the Void Shadows closed in. “ATTACK!”
The Aerodactyl and Goodra split off, Shadows and Radiance alike coloring the skies.
<><><>
Far in the back, behind three major rows of the Hearts’ advancing front, were Angelo, Xerneas, and Leph surrounded by a squadron of powerful Hearts to keep them safe. The Smeargle felt like the tiniest Joltik among giants. Those around him were spoken of in legends or in newspapers for great feats or being literal gods.
And then there was him, his chest hammering, as he shakily looked over his notes and procedures for what to do. “D-Decorate, Psych Up, Baton Pass, Psych Up, r-repeat,” he whispered. “We need more boosts to the front.”
Leph was using her single Hand of Creation like a conductor’s wand, capturing drifting auras in the air and bringing them to Xerneas. His hooves were deep in the soil, legs practically like roots, as he drew energy from their current position to power his revivals.
Yveltal guided the auras with her wings, reaping them from the skies and blowing them to Xerneas below. These auras drifted into his antlers and hung there like dewdrops. Occasionally, especially the first time, they transfixed Angelo as those auras became enveloped in light, growing into small fruit-like ornaments. Then, when Xerneas shook his head, each one flew off his antlers and fell into the soil, sprouting into little saplings.
Then, with some divine Geomancy, the flowers expanded, budded, and bloomed, revealing Pokémon inside. They cracked their necks, stretched their limbs, and nodded in thanks before they rushed to the front anew.
Angelo was positive he’d seen a few Pokémon go through this process more than once. These Pokémon, as they advanced, trotted over their own dead bodies to march to their deaths anew, completely unafraid of the consequences. A Marowak plucked a Bone Club from his old dead hands. A Muk utilized its own corpse for more mass to throw around. A nearby Typhlosion picked up his fallen ally Trevenant’s body for extra kindling.
The sheer utility these Pokémon came up with once their deaths became a strategy was… frightening. Angelo couldn’t understand the mindset.
Some deliberately took their time, shaken by their deaths, and looked reluctant to dive into the fray. Leph calmly instructed them to remain in the back row and have some of those already there advance to the row.
It was a cycle of war—a fondue machine of blood and souls circulating those same lives to die again and again. It was… horrible yet beautiful. Angelo was thankful to be on their side. The only reason Alexander could keep up was that he had his own eternal army. It was just a matter of who would run out of energy first… or if the sun would set and time them out.
“Are you okay?” Leph asked.
“Huh?” Angelo froze.
“You’ve… been in a trance for a while. Do you need more energy?” She raised a hoof.
“I’m okay, I—I need to… focus on everything. Sorry, it’s very…”
“It’s okay. You’re doing well,” Leph said. “But we need your mortal boons to accompany my divine ones. Do you need direction?”
“No, I’m fine. Right. Hang on.”
A few lingering Pokémon were waiting for extra boons. He started there. Drawing little strawberries like the Alcremie who had taught his great ancestor, he tossed them three times to a patient Rhydon. The sketched berries Decorated him in waves of light, bolstering his power. Then, Angelo drew a spiral in the air, feeling that same power flow through him. And, lastly, he eyed an awaiting, abnormally muscular Feraligatr—a mutant, perhaps?—and drew a stick with a glimmering star at the end and tossed the baton to him. He caught it with a toothy grin, flexed enough to leave a crater in the ground, and sprinted away. Angelo barely had enough time to Psych Up the boons again.
“Ahhh. There you are.”
Angelo blinked. Something about that was so… familiar. He glanced back, only to realize that it wasn’t just one Pokémon, but a whole second army behind a select group of leaders.
Another Smeargle—in the spitting image of Angelo—placed a paw on Angelo’s shoulder.
“Well! Can’t say you’ve changed too much!” he said.
“D-dad!? But you’re—”
“Things have… gotten a bit unstable in the afterlife,” Angelo’s father said, gesturing behind him. “We’ve got a larger squad coming in soon. Bit of a rift we spotted, and Hecto instructed us to come along.”
When Angelo squinted, he noticed that there was a faint glow coming from his father and everyone else he’d pointed at. The shock and swirl of emotions were dulled only by the adrenaline and strain of pumping so many boons onto the Hearts earlier.
“Dad… I don’t—I don’t know what to say! You’re…” He must have been in shock. Angelo thought he’d collapse or cry or… something, but he was so focused on the battle that he didn’t know how to react. He was on autopilot, readying another Baton Pass-Psych Up combo.
“Say nothing! This is… a temporary arrangement. But I heard you’ve been trying to use your powers in a fight! I was worried.”
Angelo winced. “Worried.”
His father patted his shoulder harder. “It’s not in you, son. I’m glad you found a spot in a time of crisis anyway, but I’m not mad you aren’t carrying that legacy. Wish I could’ve told you when I was alive. Really regret that. So, I’m telling you now!”
Confusion. A flash, just a flash, of anger at him dropping it so… casually. Years of shame and doubt that he’d failed the ancestral tradition, just for his father to come in and…
But this was what he’d been hoping for, too. That his father would have understood. He’d been expecting a debate, a grudging acceptance. Yet… his father looked so proud.
Angelo could’ve cried. Before he could—
“So!” His father clapped his paws together. “Those look like battle notes. I’ve got the same kit as you. How about I double up, eh?” He looked at Xerneas for approval. “By the way, how easily can you revive—”
“No.”
“Worth a shot.” He shrugged.
“W-wait! But if you die, what does that mean?” Angelo asked. “Do you… super die?”
“Ohh, we’ll be fine. We’ll get shunted back, but I think we’ll be right on our way again! There’s this giant Torterra, you see, who ferried us upstream with Zygarde’s help.”
“I see…”
His father continued to skim the notes. “Oh, this one’s complex. Have you tried it?”
“N-no, I haven’t been able to, and it has a few flaws anyway. We sort of set that one aside because we couldn’t figure out how to arrange it in time…”
“Nonsense, I know a few fixes!”
Angelo and his father spotted another rift forming. It was almost like a Dungeon, yet even more chaotic. On the other side was an endless sea of blue embers, each one solidifying into a different Pokémon with that same ethereal glow.
Notable was the greatest flame, which became the one all the other spirits had been riding. A Torterra the size of a large house landed with a great, earth-shifting rumble as a fleet of Pokémon slid off him. More flew off of the strange, glowing tree on his back.
“…You must be Forrest,” Xerneas greeted. “The former Ground Guardian. And you…” His eyes trailed to a Lopunny remaining in the tree—one whose ears were instead great, white wings. “The former Flying Guardian.”
“Oh, um, y-yes. That’s me.” Lopunny waved sheepishly. “Lopunny Cara. I, um, I’ve been talking with Forrest, planning a few small things… just in case…”
The Torterra did not move. Instead, his gaze slowly scanned the battlefield, and he settled.
“I will return… when I must ferry more across the aura sea. Ones that are missed. Tell Yveltal to move any spirits to the tree on my back. But the battlers here are the best the afterlife has to offer. Warriors across eras.”
Xerneas nodded, eyeing it. “…Strange. That does not appear to be a normal Torterra tree.”
Angelo squinted at it. Now that he thought about it, the tree did seem odd. The fruits were colored like rainbows and they glistened like diamonds under the sun. The wood looked like it had come directly from the pastel environment of Fae Fae Forest. The roots themselves were… embedded into Torterra’s back, but they didn’t fit well. They’d been recently placed there. Angelo winced at the thought.
“Interesting…” Xerneas turned his attention to the front. “Very well. You will assist in keeping our battlers… present.”
Angelo’s father beamed and said to Angelo, “Well. Shall we get some advanced support ready?”
“I… I’d love that,” Angelo said, his chest warming with vigor as he finally realized the gravity of what was happening. “A-and, if we have time, after, can we… talk?”
“I’d love nothing more.” He then turned to Cara. “I need you to find me a few specific individuals. I need a Shedinja, and I need you to find the Fire Guardian!”
Xerneas’ expression froze. “Fire Guardian?”
“Yes, I know a particular technique that will help in this instance, but Electric Guardian should also do.”
“I’m not sure where Amia is,” Xerneas murmured. “She left with Alex. Perhaps she will return, but she was meant to be a reserve fighter.”
“Ah. And the Electric Guardian?”
“She was… very enthusiastic about being in the front lines.”
“Hrm, has she died yet?”
“No.”
“S-such a casual thing to ask,” Angelo murmured.
“Actually, we can’t afford to have our Guardians die,” Xerneas said. “If they do, they run the risk of losing their Orb. The mortals can die as much as they want; I can revive them freely. But a fallen Guardian will mean permanent losses in our output.”
Leph, just returning from a revitalization of the front lines, seemed to overhear the last of the conversation. “I can get Sera if you need her. Send a messenger for Amia. But we need to advance quickly.”
“Quickly?” Xerneas echoed.
“Owen’s… struggling. And I don’t know why.”
<><><>
Owen had clashed with Alexander twenty times in ninety seconds.
But each of those times happened a little differently, and yet also simultaneously.
Their bodies blossomed out from an origin point ninety seconds ago. Some of the Owens and Alexanders went left. Others went right. In some of them, Owen had the upper hand, Perceiving each move Alexander made. In most others, Alexander had the upper hand, as if precognition allowed him to outpace Owen’s very predictions. Then it was a game of reflexes.
Then, when ninety seconds passed, all but one instance vanished, and it was one of the worst timelines Owen had witnessed. Though, often, not the worst… Owen saw glimpses where Alexander managed to do far more damage to him, yet that vision was not the one that remained.
Scattered memories buzzed in Owen’s mind as he looked at a wound on his arm that he was sure he’d dodged fifteen times. He felt a pulsing ache in his wings from a blow he’d dodged eight times. Worst of all, he felt the sting of a Shadow Blast to his shoulder that he’d dodged all but thrice.
In the chaos of the battle, Owen had no idea how it happened. Couldn’t think it over. But mercifully, everything was singular now, and Owen was no longer watching himself move without his command.
Alexander smirked with all three heads.
“Having trouble?” he said as a swipe narrowly grazed Owen’s arm. A follow-up chomp with his other small head smashed into Owen’s Protect instead.
“Looks like your army’s not doing as much as you wanted,” Owen panted back. Vines stitched his wounds back together as he absorbed the sunlight.
“They’ll wear down,” Alexander said. “My army, unlike yours, is immortal. Tireless. My eternal servants. Some of them might have once been your friends.”
“All the more reason”—Owen bashed his Protect into Alexander’s face—“to free them!” Something crunched. It didn’t deter Alexander’s smile. His face, cracked and leaking black tar, pulled together the same way Owen’s wounds had.
Everything blossomed again, this time only into three separate paths. In one. Owen flew back to avoid a blast, easily parrying it as he gained more distance to fly to the rest of the Hearts. He had to warn them, had to assist them, and Alexander was too slow to catch up.
In another, Alexander lunged for Owen faster, biting Owen’s tail but ultimately losing his hold but leaving a gash behind.
But in the third—and this one persisted as the final reality—Alexander sped past Owen and blasted him enough to break the Protect.
“Ghh—”
And then tackled Owen to the ground.
“What luck,” Alexander hissed as he pressed Owen into the ground. His two lesser jaws had Owen pinned by an arm and his neck. “Time to take what’s mine—”
Alexander clenched around the arm and neck, and then opened his main maw and aimed at the spot just above his wings, at his spine. Owen conjured a barrier to block Alexander’s advance, but now he pressed harder. His teeth broke and replaced themselves with obsidian Shadow fangs. His Protect cracked.
He couldn’t move. He could only pray. Holding his breath, Owen prepared for the worst, mind racing for a way to recover as he sorted through his scattered memories of the past moment.
“Gh—”
The blinding sting of Fairy energy blasted Owen’s scales. It hurt more than usual—while the Fire dulled it, his existing Dragon energy reminded him that it was a dangerous element.
Far worse for Alexander, however, who had released Owen to dodge.
Star had appeared in his Perceive an instant later from a Teleport, floating between him and Alexander. Owen caught his breath, shakily getting to his feet. He couldn’t concentrate enough to reach the air.
“Yo,” Star greeted.
“The fallen god returns,” Alexander said with a strange, dripping malice in his voice.
“Yeah.” Star was trembling. Owen stepped forward once but Star held her paw out. “Rest up, buddy,” she said. “It’s my turn.”
“I can tell you’re shaking,” Alexander whispered, creeping forward. They were five feet apart. “A god’s will determines their power. If you’re already trembling with fear… you may as well—”
Alexander vanished in a flash of Radiant light. Or, that’s what Owen had picked up. But far outside his Perceive range, Alexander had cratered into the earth, leaving a meters-wide trail from the impact. His whole body was a spatter in the red dust.
Alexander slowly put himself together, a mixture of shock and confusion on his misshapen face.
“It’s not fear.”
Star vanished, leaving Owen behind, and pummeled the Hydreigon deeper into the earth. Above them both, a Shadow Sky brewed… and the sun’s rays struggled past dark clouds.
It was already noon.