His eyelids fluttered opened.

Cold wind smothered his face, the floor, a crunchy snow bed, permeated a cool feeling through his whole body.

The lake glistened. The thin veil of fog still dancing around as frost-coated pine trees rustled in the calm wind.

Lucas's vision blurred, his eyes clouded by clusters of tears.

He gripped his scarf.

“What…what's wrong with me? What did I do?” He sobbed, his fingers curling the snow into his gloved palms as tears fell down his reddish face.

That was hell. A nightmare beyond anything he'd imagined.

He was powerless against that thing. That...thing. What on Earth was that demon? The way it cried, like blood was gurgling in its throat. A black shadowy leviathan that swallowed him whole.

He thought he'd died.

He was powerless.

As usual.

Not only was he a loser who couldn't win his first battle, but for some reason things kept unravelling into the worst case scenario.

Lucss was too much of a weakling to do anything about it. Too much of a weakling to fight, too soft control anything around him.

He was powerless.

As usual.

Lucas didn't deserve any of this…right?

Wrong.

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He got up on his feet, sniffling. His furry batch of black hair was now coated in frost like the trees, so too were his pants and jacket.

He glanced over at the cave sitting in the middle of the silvery cerulean waters.

He'd made a grave mistake.

“Mesprit…I'm sorry…I won't come back. I won't disturb you again, I swear.” he said, his heart still battering his chest from that nightmare.

Whatever that…thing was, a pokémon, or whatever–he would’ve preferred dying than ever seeing that thing again.

Again. Again...?

With that, Lucas Gray left Lake Verity without a second thought.

Now, there were a lot of things Lucas could've done that day. By the time he'd encountered Mesprit, it was only about 2pm in the afternoon.

He could've rushed to the Professor's lab and gotten some pokéballs or something.

But no.

He was done.

Lucas marched back, dead set on going back home through the frosty forest and icy grass. Slush crushing under his boots. Head hanging low like a vine.

Maybe this wild life really wasn't for him. He wasn't strong like Barry...not at all.

He was just a weak boy with no direction. No guidance. At least Barry had an entire frontier brain to build him up.

Who did Lucas have?

What father did he have? What guidance did he have?

Perhaps it was time to let go and find other things to do.

Though…

When he arrived at the grassy landscape of Route 203, he remembered the disgusting excuse for a battle he had.

“Man, am I really just useless?” He asked aloud. He dug into his pocket and grabbed a shrunken pokéball. “Is this just how it is starting out? Or am I just horrible? I'm sorry…for letting you down, I was too stupid to see how pathetic I am as a trainer. But…”

Lucas squeezed the orb, thinking of the piplup inside it.

No...

“Let's keep trying, you and me. Besides, going straight home would be the ultimate symbol of defeat, right? Let's go see the professor and see if he'll have any ideas what's wrong with me…”

Giving up was way too easy.

He wasn't allowed to give up.

This was still only the begin.