Chapter 7:

Ripples

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"You've failed me, Amodius," cooly admonished the emperor's shadow from his bejeweled throne, his voice like the rumble of thunder trembling the sky. In his ire, only the chosen elite could resist the punitive gravity of his presence.

It was like being suddenly placed at the bottom of what they called 'the ocean', drowning and suffering under its crushing pressure.

Humbled and hunched over on the marble floor, the warden's knees threatened to split. His spine creaked, and he could've sworn his bowed forehead cracked on the ground. It was as though the emperor was a colossus of might squashing him under his giant heel; yet, there he sat still, but the raw psychic power eddying from his form was as real and sweltering as the sun.

"I-I offer no excuses for my incompetence, Your Majesty. The loss of the camp and the culling of the resisting laborers is most regrettable. I'm ready to receive your punishment."

"You are ready when his majesty says so, fool!" hollered the emperor's advisor standing by the throne.

The monarch raised his hand, silencing the silver-masked gardevoir at his side.

"I disagree, Amodius. The poultry rebels amongst the laborers have paid for their defiance; we can always restock…What's most regrettable, however, is that three of them are now running free and unpunished for their insult," the ruler said, with his heavy aura intensifying in weight. "Especially the ungrateful curse-mon, spared of death by default and given a chance undeserving as a laborer…"

"Of course, Your Majesty, how stupid of me. I am so sorry…"

"I know, child. I know…I see it in your heart…Which is why I am giving you another chance."

Amodius' very soul lightened and flew at those words, but he couldn't believe it.

"Another chance, your majesty?" asked the advisor for him.

"Yes…Amodius, as punishment, I strip you of the rank of warden, and re-instate you as a justicar. To atone for your failings, you will find Celeste and bring her back to me here…Alive."

Suddenly the gravity of the room returned to normal, though the lingering effects of the emperor's magnitude still had Amodius shook, but his gladness overtook that by a landslide. It was almost too good to be true, but he remained professional.

"With utmost pleasure…What of the other two, if I may ask?"

"...Kill them, and bring their heads to me if you happen to find them…But Celeste is the priority, leave the other two be if you must, nature will do away with them, for nature consumes the weak and nourishes the strong."

At the pause, Amodius slowly stood up though still bowed his wood-masked head. "As you wish, my emperor. I swear I will not fail you again."

"No, you won't, for not only will I have eyes on you…but you will not return to Elreino without Celeste…I trust you know what that means."

Amodius gulped at that and nodded.

"You will take a small squad with you to aid your efforts…Amongst them is someone very keen on finding the curse-mon, as their dear brother was distastefully murdered at her hands."

Oh no…

The throneroom doors opened to reveal the silhouette of a slender figure bearing a sharp, wispy crest on its head.

Yet another abomination…

"Ah, speaking of whom…"

The figure entered and the violet fire of their gaze threatened to burn Amodius on the spot.

"Because of your incompetence," began the effeminate yet raucous voice as the chamber echoed with the metallic honing of their elbow blades. "Not only is my brother dead, but now my vengeance is delayed because you let her escape. Clearly, we can't just rely on you to find the bitch."

"Always a pleasure, Tera," said the warden, spitting the name with vitriol.

The figure blinked out of existence and with a shing Amodius found his neck almost touching the dark crossing blades and a furious amethyst gaze stabbing into his.

"I ought to behead you right here, bastard."

"Stop this at once! Have you forgotten that you're in his majesty's presence!?" berated the advisor.

"Quite," agreed the emperor, though he didn't seem the least bit annoyed, if anything he seemed more amused. "I expect the two of you and your brethren to work together in your search for Celeste."

Tera sheathed her blades and bowed down. "Apologies, your majesty. For a moment my indignation for my brother's demise got the better of me. I won't allow it to interfere in…'our' mission," she said, gagging on the 'our' like it were vile acid.

"See that it doesn't. While you're away, remember," the imposing figure of the emperor leaned forward, glowing crimson eyes casting the room into a bloody hue. "The fact that I continue to allow your impure existence owes itself to your proven loyalty to me, and your uncanny abilities and skill…Do not ruin such privilege like your target did."

"Yes, my emperor. I exist because you allow it, I exist to serve you, I exist to live and die for you!" chanted Tera with an unsettling blend of militant and religious fervor.

"Good. You leave at next dawn. May Arceus bless your mission and see it to fruition." He waved them away with his staff. "Dismissed."

Both Tera and Amodius were escorted back to the double-door entry of the chamber. As soon as the doors closed, Tera was in his face again. It looked like she was trying to implode his head with just her stare.

If it wasn't for Amodius' own psychic prowess, she very well could. Her bladed arms pulsated with phantom flames, as though she read his mind. It served as a reminder that when it came to natural weaponry forged into genetics and resistance, he was at a severe disadvantage.

"Make no mistake, Amodius," she hissed. "If you slow me down or get in my way enough that I decide you are more of a hindrance, you might just suffer a fatal 'accident'."

"I tremble with fear," he snarked back as he floated past her. "I think death by your blades would be a mercy compared to what his majesty will do to us both if we fail."

"Tch. Coward. Just don't screw this up again! And you'd better be at the meet-up point on time or don't show up at all!"

Amodius pinched his nasal ridge. This was going to be a long mission…which reminded him.

He concentrated on the energy signature he browsed for and the environment warped into the imperial prison gate, having long since abandoned primitive use for iron and instead made with psionically energized bars of light, powered in unison by a large collective of gallade guards, two of which stood in his way.

"I'd like to see one of the prisoners."

"Said the ex-warden," quipped one of the guards, causing the other to snicker.

Oh, goody, how word flies fast in a mostly psychic community.

"Yes, but if you could widen your muscle-bound mind beyond the pin-prick that is your brain, then you'd have also heard I've been re-appointed as a Justicar, which still places me above you in station. At this stage, stating my intention to you is mere courtesy."

The two guards straightened up and knew better than to prevent his passage. Good.

He came upon a deteriorating, moldy cell, where luminescent mind seals chained a figure to the wall with their limbs stretched out.

The bolding old gardevoir craned his neck up slightly.

"Still haven't changed your mind, Karthen? I could make this less agonizing than it already is."

The old mon' spat at him, though little more than drool puttered out of his chapped lips. The intent was still insulting, nevertheless.

"Even if I knew, I'd never tell you, your guess is as good as mine."

"Pity," said Amodius, wrinkling his face in disgust at the old fool. "I guess you're about as useful to me as your attempted coup was to your supporters all those years ago. But I must admit, though I'm not sure how you did it, it was certainly clever of you to avoid detection all these years as a laborer. Who'd have thought that you were gearing up for a second round? A lot of good that did." Amodius chuckled.

He continued. "It seems like Celeste went a little too ahead of schedule, wouldn't you say?"

Karthen let out a long wheeze. Of course, Amodius expected the old coot to seethe with so much rage at the jab, clearly the ruination of the veteran's schemes was too much for him.

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But the wheezing turned into rasping laughter.

Amodius rose a brow behind his mask. "What's so funny?"

When Karthen settled down, he leered at him with a grin so rancid that it was unsettling. "Oh how the youth are always so eager to overtake and prove something to their elders, always comparing the years, that they fail to remember their elders were once young and ambitious too."

"What are you on about now?"

"I never intended on starting another coup with the sorry numbers I had in the labor camp…"

"What…What do you mean? Wasn't the whole point of what you did to disrupt our line of production?"

"Even a fool would know just how replaceable the laborers are. All it takes is one false accusation and they lose their place in Elreino. I should know, I've done my fair share of work under his rulership, after all."

"Then what…"

Karthen's dry chuckle echoed in the prison.

"My dear Amodius...Instead of asking me what my plan was, which should be obvious by now, even to a fool like you, you should be asking why the emperor wants her back."

"And It should be obvious to anyone, even a fool like you, that the Emperor won't stand to allow such impudence to go unpunished."

"Think, child. Rulers with that much ego don't tend to last on the throne as long as our current one has…"

"I don't understand."

"And that's why you have no idea what you've allowed to escape."

This was too much. It couldn't be! The old fool must've been tricking him! Goading him!

Patience lost, Amodius grabbed the old bastard by the neck, yanking him forth.

"Where the hell is she!?"

"I've been inside her mind…and all I know is, 'She' will be the end of you all."

Amodius snarled in fury and decided to risk it, taboos be damned.

He launched his mental probe and drilled into the old man's mind, shattering any futile resistance made weaker by his condition.

Memories of young and memories of old, Amodius swiped them to the side.

Streets of blood and riotous glory, draped aside.

Guilty deceptions and double betrayals, tempting but not important.

Pure white, alabaster, aquamarine, and ice blue, amber heart and eyes with—

"Ḅÿ ẗḧệ ḅŀäďệ, ÿöü ẅïŀŀ ďïệ."

Red.

Screeching split his ears.

Copper inundated his senses.

A strobe of red, black, and white filled and flashed so fast in his vision that nausea had him spinning and falling endlessly.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't even think!

What the—

Amodius gazed at the ceiling of the dungeon. He swallowed greedy lungfuls of air like he was drowning just now. Pins and needles everywhere made it difficult to stand.

Karthen hung loosely on his chains, unresponsive. Hopefully, the old son of a bitch didn't bite the dust yet from the mind break-in.

"Gods, my head hurts."

What the hell was that? The sensation was familiar, yet so…alien.

He would have nightmares of this for many nights to come.

Though he couldn't siphon any information on her whereabouts, one thing was for certain…There was more to the curse-mon than he initially thought, and she had to be brought back quickly.

He mentally pinged all the whole team roster he'd been given earlier to mobilize.

Amodius would not wait until dawn. The search had to begin immediately.

After the events that just transpired, Amodius couldn't help but have a sick premonition that the longer they took to bring Celeste back, the worse things would get.

Damn it all…

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…"This is a nightmare."

"Maybe," said the shiny gardevoir as she aimed at him with the deadly charged psy-beam, drenched in Berus' blood and death in her gaze. "But unlike others, you won't wake up from this one."

Ross gasped, jolting on his bed. Gauze blocked half his vision, leaving him with the left to see. The sterile beige walls of a hospital room along with the beeping of heart monitors and machinery welcomed him.

A searing pain worming under the bandaged portion of his head reminded him this was no dream, and the state of his friend in the bed next to his, as well as the fresh memories of his team's obliteration at the hands of the shiny monster, confirmed this certainly was a nightmare.

"Andy?"

Only slow, rattling breaths through a respirator came as a response, with Andy's head almost completely wrapped in gauze.

"Chansey!"

He snapped his gaze to the pink ball of joy who brought the doctor over.

"Ah! It's good to see you're awake, Mr. Lighton," he said, holding a touchpad and jotting some things down instantly. "I'm Dr. Kant. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, I guess...My face stings a little, though."

The doctor's smile faltered a bit though he bounced back into professional enthusiasm. "That must be a side-effect of the healing, it should fade by tomorrow. How about the rest of your bod—"

"I want to know about Andy. How is he?"

Dr. Kant's enthusiasm vanished, replaced with an expression that suggested he was calculating his next words with care. He adjusted his spectacles as he gazed over at his other patient.

"Well, about your friend...He's in a vegetative coma."

It was like he swallowed a hot stone that sunk and burned heavy in his gut.

"What?"

The doctor only sighed.

Ross got up from his bed. The chansey made a move to stop him but the clinician held a hand on its shoulder.

He moved closer to his friend, only to catch his breath as something was very wrong with what he was met with.

Half of Andy's cranial dome on the right was misshapen, sunken in completely, almost like...half his head was...

"Because of the critical damage and major trauma Andy suffered from the attack, including several ruptured vessels causing serious intra-cerebral hemorrhages, we had no choice but to conduct a hemispherectomy or lose him to more pressure build-up from the excess blood."

"Why...Why don't you just heal him with a pokémon or the healing pods?" Ross asked, voice quivering.

"While the use of pokémon regeneration in procedures for humans is invaluable and common, much like the healing pods designed to replicate that same process, they are only effective on open wounds and incisions or even broken bones and grafting; however," said the doctor folding his arms. "Medical science has not yet yielded conclusive results from major cerebral and organ regeneration via pokémon abilities or any resulting tech based on such alone that don't come with severe repercussions.

"The pokémon mainly stimulate and accelerate the healing process, but the human body must catch up and heal with its own energy, which can prove to be even more fatal than if we were to follow traditional surgery and natural recuperation periods. This is specifically the case with the brain and other major organs."

"But how come I've seen pokémon recover from potentially fatal wounds with healing abilities then!?"

"Pokémon are far hardier creatures than humans are. Their biology is much more capable of and adapted to handling the visceral inertia and shock from rapid or sudden healing factors. I'm sure you, as a trainer, must understand quite well the fundamental differences in physiology we have to them, Mr. Lighton."

That was like a slap to the face from reality, even though it felt like it didn't make sense, he didn't want to accept that…But the extent of Andy's wounds…

"I'm sorry, at this stage there's nothing more we can do but monitor him."

From what Dr. Kant said about the limitations of the clinic's technology and the pokémon's abilities, the gauze in his left vision made Ross tense in discomfort.

"Wait…The injury on my face isn't as bad as Andy's, so why am I still wrapped up and still feel pain?"

The doctor grimaced, pulling a hand down his face and relenting, like he was hoping the question would never be asked.

"There's also another limitation, though specific…Unlike other elemental typologies such as Fire, Water, Fighting, Rock, Ice, and such, which are practically pure in superficial and physical damage, other more biologically and meta-physically complex types like Poison, Dark, Ghost, Fairy…and Psychic damage are harder to heal by conventional means, more especially if the affected is human."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you'll have permanent scarring."

Ross slid his hand all over the right side of the face, measuring out the total surface area of his injury, and his thoughts along with his gaze turned to Andy.

"Now you understand how serious Andy's condition is. Based on the energy signature, you both shared the impact of a condensed Psychic attack, along with something…"

The doctor's voice faded as Ross gripped his fist at the unfairness of it all.

He and Andy had dreams of greatness to accomplish. They were going to take on the Sinnoh league, then they were going take the world by storm in the World Coronation series…There was so much waiting for them out there…

"How long will it take for him to recover?"

The doctor raised a brow as though the question seemed ludicrous, but he relented with a sigh. "As I said earlier, he's in a vegetative state. Some people do come back, some sooner than later. Others, however, well…at this stage we don't know when he'll wake up. It could be weeks if not months…years…and that's considering he doesn't get worse…"

"You don't think he'll come back, do you? And even if he does, will he be…normal?" He pointed to his cranial dome.

"There are many known cases of people living completely normal lives after a hemispherectomy. It's the coma that concerns me far more, but only time will tell now."

"I see…" Ross dropped his head. "I'd like to be alone with him if that's alright."

Dr. Kant gave a light bow. "Of course." He left with the chansey, closing the door behind him.

Ross got up and marched to the toilet, ignoring the protests of whatever scrapes he had on his body, stopping at the mirror.

He peeled the gauze off bit by bit, with every millimeter stinging like tiny glass shards biting him. His bitter frustration got the better of him.

Growling and grunting through his teeth, he ripped the whole thing off.

His arm fell to his side.

Ross always considered himself to be reasonably good-looking, a boon of the Lighton heritage. He had been blessed with acne-free puberty which would have left his face spotless, the girls from high school back then regarded his looks more often than he would have been embarrassed to admit, but he knew he would never have any issues finding a date should he ever have been interested, really.

He shuddered at the worming inflamed welter that stared back at him.

From the bottom right of his chin, a jagged, hot fleshy wing of sick purple veined and burst over the vast majority of his left face, leaving practically nothing of his normal skin. Not even his eyelid was spared, with the top and bottom lid's outer corners smelted together, narrowing slightly as a result.

It was a cancerous mess, and he was hideous.

But at least he was still standing and conscious to see it, unlike his friend.

Swallowing the bile threatening to escape his throat, he walked back to the person who had saved his life, potentially endangering their own.

Ross gazed at Andy, hoping every second that he may spring up and laugh it all off as a prank like the silly idiot he was. Years had seen them bond together, laughing with each other, hurting with each other, training and making each other stronger, complimenting each other's weaknesses and strengths, and sharing ideas and ambitions.

They'd been through a lot together, good times and hard times…and it was all undone in a single afternoon by a single pokémon.

Ross had seen many things in his short life, including his fair share of aggressive and territorial pokémon…But this shiny demonstrated a level of independent bloodlust and vindictiveness the likes he had never seen.

And the worst part was, she did it with clear glee on her face.

He had been led to believe that pokémon were generally instinctual and peaceful creatures, granted the proper respect for their space and when you didn't look tasty to them in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sure, some Dark and Ghost types could be wicked, but that was expected to some degree depending on the species, most of which were just simply mischievous and even playful.

…But this one was a gardevoir, and it was outrageously murderous.

The image of his houndoom turned into little more than a pile of its own skin and guts gave him reflux.

He seethed with acidulous hatred as he held Andy's hand.

Ross loved pokémon in all their colors and rich personalities, happy and gruff…but he never would he have imagined himself irrevocably despising one to the point of revulsion at the mere thought of it.

The fact that the gardevoir could actually speak the human language made it worse, since…if anything, its actions were not only unusual for a gardevoir, its rage seeming so un-pokémon, but the cruelty behind her words and act was almost…human. The thought of it caused him to loathe it even more.

It was true that Berus had killed her friend, and he could sympathize with that. He gave no such order to the dark canine, hence he was responsible for the lack of discipline the Dark type exhibited…but killing his entire pokémon team apparently wasn't enough, the gardevoir effectively did more than just repay him in kind. It was a severe over-indemnification.

Berus was one thing…But everyone else didn't deserve it…

I'm sorry guys…I'm so…

He held Andy's hand tighter. He couldn't hold it in.

Hot streams of tears leaked out from his ego.

It hurt…So much.

The line was crossed.

Through his watery vision, he examined Andy's pokéballs on the bedside. He could almost sense their kindred sadness and resentment of the villain.

"I swear…together, we will find that blue gardevoir bitch, we will capture her, and we will make her pay..."