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Camp Straviken – Somewhere in Fornian Territory
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The man inhaled and sighed with what seemed like relief. Or at least, that's what it sounded like. It was muffled, by his once pale white helmet, fitted with the standard t-shaped black visor every Church Crusader bore. It was gray now though, which meant they were somewhere under the ash clouds the winter winds were bringing east.
"Full moon tonight." He said, with what sounded like amusement. His prisoner snarled. Often his torturer had begun their sessions like this, with that very phrase…but this time, if Geralt was right, was genuine. The moon was indeed full. As usual his luck had seen him imprisoned on the night of a half moon. He'd missed his first chance to escape, as this very Crusader had been busy with him, and he'd still been…sensitive, and barely conscious. Now though, he had adapted to the pain, and forced himself to ignore it. He could writhe in agony once he was free of these damned chains. Tonight, he was finally getting out of this hell, or dying in the attempt.
"Let us see if we can't remove that gem of yours on this special night…." The prisoner chuckled mirthlessly at the man's words, and met his captor's eyes. The pupils had narrowed again, like a very angry feline. His fangs were more akin to a canine's though, or so the science nerds had claimed when first examining his newest, most durable pet's unique incisors. The icy blue stare always held the promise of death, during their sessions, but that feat would require the mutant to be able to escape, first. That, of course, was impossible.
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Tonight, as with so many nights before, the man's focus was on the Lycanroc-head shaped crystal embedded in Geralt's chest that, when active, burned with the seven colors that had attracted their Leader's notice in the first place, amongst the general prisoner population. He'd been singled out when the uniqueness noticed by pure chance amongst the crowd yielded an unexpected treasure that, if things went wrong, could serve as a replacement, or even create another mutant. Stones like Geralt's were rare, unique from all the other various kinds that had littered, and been influenced by, the magic wrought on their world by a foreign deity. Whatever experimentation had been done had given the man's body a healing factor greater than any normal human. While he'd been unconscious, he'd healed as quickly as he'd been cut open, and the closer they'd cut to the crystal, the quicker the wounds had mended, eventually becoming too tough for even his torturer's instruments after many failed attempts. Geralt's skin and muscles had adapted, and even hardened after so much abuse and regrowth.
It had taken a few weeks, but the mad Doctor's tools from home had finally arrived. The Church was already analyzing the 'Scale Swords' captured from the Unovan's special forces, and focusing beams of plasma had already been achieved. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near the length of the Scale's blades, but the Church had given their medical and…otherwise inclined staff the use of such devices as soon as they'd been able to mass produce them. Given Fornia's status as an industrial and scientific giant, the whole process hadn't taken more than a few weeks after the first blades were recovered.
A low hum and a crimson light from the instrument's synthetically fabricated red crystal filled the blank, ceracrete chamber, as simple in design as it was in aesthetics. No windows, one entryway, and locked with a genetic scanner. Moreover, the hall outside was fifty yards in a single direction, and lined with death-spitting turrets embedded in the wall. Once they'd learned who their newest prisoner was, no chances had been taken. The Prophet himself had wanted him imprisoned, studied, and then replicated once he'd read the report on his physiology.
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The plasma burned white between the emitters on the scalpel-sized instrument that had yet to be given a name. Thus far, the Church had been labeling them as 'Plasma Scalpels', and nobody saw a reason to call them anything else. The masked Crusader began to cut around the top of the gem, and Geralt snarled in pain, but his restraints kept him from shifting an inch. This was precise work.
Everything they had learned of the strange man suggested that this gem, whatever it was, gave not only a power to rival Mega Evolution, but was the source of the physiological changes in whomever it was implanted within. They needed it intact, for replication.
As the plasma parted flesh, Geralt tensed up, his entire body going taut. The Crusader lifted his instrument, watching with masked interest as the crystal flared, and flesh regrew, before then producing something that looked akin to white fur around the man's chest. Then, it began to spread. The gem flared to life, and within, the Crusader saw the crimson eyes of a Lycanroc, mad with rage. "Of course…" He said, chuckling in a slightly manic manner as he backed away from the now entirely white-furred human, realizing just exactly what had been implanted in the Ranger's chest. "A Burst Heart…we thought they were all destroyed…"
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The chuckle became a full-on laugh, despite the fact that the man was yet reaching for the door, rather than his stave weapon. It was usually too bulky for him, a man who delighted in precise incisions and symmetry. "You're linked to your Lycanroc, aren't you? Oh Arceus, this is delightful…now we'll have two…"
Geralt's features had begun shifting into a passable replication of his Lycanroc's two-legged form. He could shift between this, and one resembling the Midday Form, but on nights like tonight, the ferocity demanded release. He had no doubt Ghost had given them trouble the last time the moon had risen. In fact, his torturer mentioning it in a previous session had been the only thing to get more than two words out of Geralt that weren't "Muk yourself."
Geralt had warned the man not to infuse his partner with Shadow energy, as the transformation, empowered by such darkness, would be more than they could ever leash safely. Naturally, these idiots had gone and infused him with Shadow anyways, and gloated about it. Now, things would end with blood. "You…" Geralt snarled as his entire form went taut, "You fools actually did it, didn't you...I did warn you…you're all going to die for tainting him with Shadow…" His eyes were the last to change, and the fusion of man and Pokémon snarled at him before barking a single, and final, intelligible word. "Rrrrun!"
He doubled over then, and the metal chains holding his arms tore from the wall, and then snapped off as the man's limbs became much bulkier. His entire form had gained a similar muscle definition to Ghost's two-legged form, and any trace of the human was gone. His eyes flared with darkness, and starting from his wolf-like face, the white fur became a mix of black and purple.
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The door slammed, and the dark wolf's eyes snapped into focus at the sound, jarring him from the dazed state transforming had left him in. A howl of rage echoed down the tunnel, followed shortly by the sound of crumpling metal.
The turret defenses activated, firing various beams of fire, electric, and ice energy, but Geralt plowed through all of them, as his massive form easily lifted the now bent door, and used it as a shield. The fire and ice tended to cancel out, but he was glad he was resistant to electric energy. At least in this form. He yet retained some control over his limbs, though he felt his body moving on instinct towards the one to whom it was bonded. It would kill anyone that got in its way on the journey there. He knew he couldn't stop it, though he tried anyway. The Shadow had made them both berserk.
He'd snarled when icy protrusions had, taking longer than they usually did thanks to the new scar tissue on his…everywhere, burst from Geralt's much wider and now brawny neck and shoulders to hit the turrets he passed with Accelerock before they could fire on his backside.
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He cleared the tunnel of death in a few bounds, and then doubled over, as the overwhelming desire to rampage filled him. His instinct took over completely then. All Geralt could do was remind his rapidly enraged body to head towards Ghost, and not get caught up on the prey the base was filled with. Their faces were a blur, usually soldiers, but they were still human. The least he could do was keep this perversion of their bond from snacking on what remained. Reuniting was their only chance for surviving, and together, they could escape. Probably.
It was this single-minded determination that kept Geralt from killing anyone who might not have deserved it. He managed to shift his gaze away from those in the garb of prisoners, and those not wearing armor, though several times he'd had to take out what had appeared to be a lieutenant or leader of some description sans armor. It would make sense that they trained their men to stay fit in the same place they'd keep dangerous prisoners. Arceans never wasted space.
Eventually, the dark purple furred wolf loped into a large, hangar-like room, within which were several aircraft. The human in him wanted to try escaping in one of those, but Ghost knew better. His instinct told him that he and his Trainer were more durable than a human and a Pokéball inside a metal flying machine. Humans often believed their constructs were stronger than the natural forces of the earth. As a Rockruff, Ghost had demonstrated that his rocks beat metal contraptions every time, much to the irritation of his Trainer.
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Geralt went still as his eyes locked with Ghost's, and then, at once, their hackles rose. Light flooded the room, and Geralt saw the truth. Ghost was bound, the same manner that the One Dragon had been subjected to, and he'd needed help to get free…but help hadn't come. The Shadow flared in his eyes, and Geralt moved towards his partner. Ghost growled, and to Geralt's ears, it sounded like a very pained 'Don't'. His altered form stopped then, and stomped the ground hard, cracking the ceracrete beneath his foot. The movement, by way of what Geralt could only describe as 'rock sight', revealed what Ghost was trying to warn them of. Namely, the Arceans hiding above them.
Arcean Crusaders descended, as they sprung what was evidently meant to be an ambush. Geralt let his body dispatch the armored men, tearing them apart with disturbing ease, as he used Darkest Lariat to full effect. He didn't have time to lament at the lost life however, he needed to get Ghost, and escape. He was impeded of course, as best the Crusaders could manage, but his body's single-minded focus would not be denied. A power stronger than all of them was urging the two to become one, so that they might both survive. Some part of the White Wolf was worried about how many men he was ending, and that he couldn't even recall if he'd done his torturer in, but none of that mattered now. Ghost needed him.
His body raised both fists, and brought them down, hard, shattering the floor of the hangar with an Earthquake. His form had no problem traversing the newly raised bloody boulders, but before he'd made two leaps, he paused, and dug into one that had, moments before, been host to a lingering soldier. There was a chill in the air, an unnatural one. While in this form, he shared the ice typing as well and Geralt knew his senses were detecting something that embodied the element. Something powerful, that was approaching rapidly.
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His ears twitched, as he heard what seemed like singing. Ghost shared his curiosity, and as they were both relying on raw instinct at this point, they couldn't ignore it. Those Words stuck in their ears too long, and they only grew louder before the massive fifty-foot doors leading outside were blown apart by a pair of Pokémon using Sky Attack.
Instinctual fear went through Geralt and his suffering partner. A Legendary Pokémon would make anything pause, rampage or not. Before the attacks had faded, revealing the light blue feathers of the Articuno, and the forms of their riders, Geralt's form had moved for Ghost. He was so close.
His arms lit with the power of Stone Edge, and once more, the Lycanroc demonstrated that human contraptions would always fall before the raw power of rock and stone. "Don't let them merge!" The now freed Ghost looked up at the same instant Geralt did at the source of the voice. A rider with hair like a raven, standing out amongst her primarily red and blonde haired kin.
Their eyes counted five in all. Each of the riders was dressed for war, and had been geared up by Unova, including the dark haired one, judging by their belts, and black and white metal armor plates that tastefully merged with, and further reinforced, their usual leather attire. Now free, Ghost moved before Geralt did, rising slowly, and snarling with pure, undiluted rage. He smelled his Trainer, but the wolf before him looked more like a rival, than an ally. For his part, Geralt returned the snarl, by pure instinctual response to a challenge. The enraged wolves soon fell into a savage melee of claws and fangs as the Shadow induced rage overcame their bond. Had they not fallen into Reverse Mode then, they might've fused together, and then, the Shadow corruption would've likely been permanent enough to infect Geralt's Burst Heart.
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To the rider's eyes, they knew what was necessary. They formed a circle around the fighting wolves, and ended what straggling Arceans remained amongst the rubble. Several had tried hitting the new arrivals with fire energy beams, but the riders were quick enough to call a Reflect. The charred bones of the soldiers spoke to the latent power of the Articuno's psychic abilities. As one, they began to summon the Light, and their riders sang in unison.
All but one, that is. Geralt found his gaze focused on her for reasons he couldn't fathom, even as his best friend was tearing away at his arms. He felt the Reverse Mode's rage fade as his eyes shut and he saw the growing light. Once more by instinct, his claws clashed with Ghost's, locking together as they struggled against each other in a contest of muscle and rage.
The combined Purge hit them before Geralt met Ghost's gaze, which was lucky, for that was all they'd needed to finish fusing. Now both once more white furred, the two came together in a flash of light as a massive two-headed wolf. Both heads unleashed a howl that split the air, gave the Articuno rider a slow nod, and then sprinted for the exit.
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Another howl split the air, followed by what sounded like meat in a grinder, as the soldiers stationed outside, who hadn't been frozen, or who'd thus been thawed once the birds moved on, tried to prevent their prisoners from escaping. Once more, Geralt felt himself covered with human blood as their new combined form used Drill Run through anything they ran into, and this time, the stench made both he and Ghost wince in disgust. Still, he was glad they were alive, and in control. Whatever the riders had done had cleared their minds, had allowed them to find harmony again, even joy, as Ghost realized they were free, and the near constant pain was finally over.
The Articuno soon joined them, several minutes after they saw, on the horizon, a massive glacier split the prison in two. Not by accident had the prisoner and 'work detail' quarters been missed, and eastern prisoners as well as disillusioned Fornians who'd been pressed into a work detail as punishment, ran together towards the rising sun in the east, and the rumor of safety under the Original Dragon. All he had ever asked for was loyalty to his Empire, and the desperate refugees found themselves willing to give it after their time under the reality of Arcean governing.
The Unovans had countered hard, and regained much of what was taken in the initial Blitz, even stymying Pravus himself, in the north, halting the 'Great Charge to Victory' as his propaganda networks had called it. Some soldiers in smaller Arcean compounds had been suffering from low morale, and even rebellion. They too did not mind the idea of pledging loyalty to a being that they had seen using genuine Light. The poorly paid soldiers in the camps along the Stoney Mountains were not typically amused, once they learned how the media covered the Shadow usage among the Church, but they didn't have any choice but to stay quiet about it, or be cut off. For soldiers manning these camps, there was no 'disconnection policy'. Those who left, died.
Even the central region dwellers among them, for there were more than a few, agreed that the east was their best bet. The Dragon had ever ruled them fairly, and the riders had borne his mark on their shoulder armor. He'd likely had a claw in this series of events, and frankly, anything was better than toiling away pointlessly for a cult they didn't wish to be a part of, or had entirely lost faith in.
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The further the two ran as one, the more exhausted they grew. Ghost had barely been fed during his imprisonment, and Geralt had endured mind-altering pain. They needed to rest for a few hours, or days, and then report to the League. Geralt had no idea what he'd say, and left figuring that out to his future, well-rested self.
When running in such a large form, they'd covered much ground, and the Articuno riders never strayed far behind them, though they kept a respectful distance. Eventually, the sun hung in the morning sky, and the dawn finally brought an end to the bloody night. Ghost had mainly guided them, following his nose to a wild Lycanroc den that, from the smell and numerous jagged stone protrusions scattered about, was used for raising Rockruff in warmer months.
It wasn't pup season thankfully, and all the wild packs were wintering in their Stoney Mountain dens, ones much older and larger, that had housed their species for millennia. The two headed white wolf became two separate entities once more, and Ghost wasted no time in falling straight asleep after chomping down several berries. Geralt did the same despite being nude, as he was human once more and Ghost was a fine pillow. Though they both heard the riders land not long after, they were already asleep. If Ghost wasn't worried about the riders or their mounts, Geralt decided not to be either. His wolf had far better senses for such things, and he trusted them.
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Several Days Later, Pokémon World Tournament Building – Unova Region
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The riders had indeed turned out to be allies, scouting for, of all people, Geralt's own cousin. He'd singled out the raven-haired rider, as lovely as he'd come to expect from those females who tended to save his rear. Prying for information about the supposed 'Dragon Emperor' had led to a very stern informing of exactly what had transpired in Norstad. An awkward pause had risen when he'd questioned why Pravus would ever venture so far from his home region, and reluctantly, she'd told him of Yggdrasil, and the Fairy King's role in events as well.
He'd stayed quiet, retaining all of the information the League was, as far as he knew, yet unaware of. He was unable to read the woman, who'd named herself as 'Yennefer', and given no other titles. The other riders hadn't given him half as much information, preferring to mock him while he washed the month and a half or so of dried blood and grime from his still rather tender wounds in the only nearby stream. He ignored the fact that winter, and the nearby presence of his ice wolf and several Articuno made the ambient temperature cold enough to cause bodily shrinkage, and gave the mocking riders the same cold glance, before ignoring them entirely as he coalesced.
When his rapid healing was done, he'd discovered that much of his torso was scarred now, and he'd gained several small marks on his face for good measure. It had taken three days for Ghost to be well enough to travel to the spot where they'd stashed the rest of their team members, and then finally report in. They had done just that, and Geralt had used his skills as a Ranger to give the wolf a longer rest and not have to carry his Trainer. The Shadow had twisted his thoughts, and Geralt knew it would take time for the Lycanroc to sort them.
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He had a job to do in the meantime. He'd arrived in front of the as-yet still under construction League building, meant to one day hold the next World Tournament, though he'd remarked that after he gave the information he'd gathered, it would likely be some time before such sport was held again.
He'd landed atop a Latios, and after thanking the creature he'd summoned via a Ranger Sign, sent him on his way. He identified himself as the Top Ranger to the guards out front, though he'd long since lost his ID, which had only confirmed his identity as a high value prisoner. He would've left it with his belt and other assorted tools he'd secreted away in the unlikely event of his capture, but that was against 'protocol'.
It didn't take long for Unova's League Chairman to summon, by way of Holoceiver usually, the other high-ranking members of the International Ranger Force, the Pokémon League, as well as the men who had invested in keeping them funded. Though the Rangers and Interpol had somewhat recently joined together, nobody could deny that the two groups had been far more effective in recent years after sharing information, and training methods. Geralt and his generation of similarly modified counterparts had been dispatched all over the planet to great effect, but the IRF was understandably hesitant about making more like them. As far as Geralt knew, the decision had been to keep the number of mutated Rangers at five, and only create more as the IRF needed them. So far, none of his contemporaries had been killed, or even captured, as Geralt had been.
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Geralt highlighted the events surrounding his capture, as well as what he'd witnessed and been subjected to as a captive of the Church. When he'd finished, the gathered men conversed quietly, and Geralt waited patiently. Finally, the Victory League's chairman addressed him again. "Top Ranger, what do you think the League's response should be? We have always stayed out of wars, leaving other regions to handle them, however…the League representatives in Sinnoh have gone dark. We've lost communications with Almia, then Fiore, and now Holon as well. Kanto is their next likely target, and this very building is very much in the Arcean war path as well. Many among us wish to throw our neutrality away, but I hesitate. I would hear your opinion."
Geralt regarded the man, short in stature, but long in his pompadour-esque hairstyle and thin curled moustache. Like the others, he was in a dark colored suit, all business, but his eyes seemed genuine. Geralt decided to be blunt and honest. He liked to think they expected that from him by now.
"My opinion? The Pokémon League has stood against evil, and those who abuse Pokémon, since its inception. This is no different, really. The Arcean Church is just as culpable in crimes of abuse and mistreatment as every other Team we've put in Black City, only they're much larger, and have entire regions supporting their goals. The main difference is that these Arceans know your weaknesses, and are abusing them. They know you won't fight back for fear of political entanglement, and by the time you realize you need to, they're counting on it being far too late to turn the tide. If you want to maintain your presence in Japan and Unova, help the First Dragon."
The men conferred again, and this time an older gentleman with thinning auburn hair addressed him. "And what if, when all this is over, the Dragon demands yet more aid from us? How long until the Pokémon League becomes a part of the Dragon Empire?"
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Geralt chuckled. "You're already technically a part of it. We're in Imperial territory right now, this entire building only exists because Unova has always been your ally. These people are brainwashing civilians, Trainers, and Pokémon into joining their little cult, and those who resist?" He opened his jacket, and lifted his shirt, though not high enough to show his crystal. His abdomen was enough, as that had been where his torturer had inflicted punishment for his failure to respond to questions. The gathered men recoiled in appropriate disgust and looks of discomfort at the still raw wounds. "These people have helped you, and looked to you for guidance in the past. Let me ask you all a question. Do you intend to let the Arceans continue all but unopposed, here and in Japan?"
The man looked at the Chairman, who glanced at the others. As one, they nodded, and answered. "No."
Geralt grinned. "And that, gentlemen, is why you have my loyalty, and aid. I understand your hesitation, and mark me, I will personally make sure my Leafhead cousin doesn't abuse your aid or future trust. If it comes to that. For right now though…we need to help the east, and Japan. You won't like what they become if the Arceans control them."
One of the men who was physically present, who Geralt hadn't noticed until now due to his quiet demeanor and simple features, snorted. "And what if we do, and we still lose? The Arceans have been preparing for this conflict for centuries. They have millions of Crusaders in Fornia, and are always making more to send our way. Meanwhile, the east can barely call up a hundred 'Scales' to match them. War is a numbers game my friends, and the math has spoken."
Unova's League Chairman answered him with narrowed eyes and obvious dislike. "One Scale is easily worth a hundred Crusaders. At least. They're the bravest Trainers we have, and, most of them are our own Champions. Would you really have us abandon them, Charles?"
The thin man sneered. "I would have us live. Since when has the League bowed to the wishes of its Champions? If we did, we'd be in chaos, and no small amount of debt. The point of this organization, as some of you seem to have forgotten, is to ensure that there will always be Trainers to rise up, and prevent disaster when a Legendary Guardian goes berserk, usually from Human interference. If we get involved, the Arceans will dismantle us. Then who will be around to train the next generation? To prepare them?"
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Arguments erupted then, and Geralt marked those who were for, and those who were against. The latter was the minority, but there were enough of them to make the others pause. Geralt sighed, and let them fight. He'd said his piece, and that was all he could do. At least they'd respected his position as a Top Ranger this time. When he'd first joined up, the newly established organization in the States hadn't had a very good rep, or a very large roster. He had personally endeavored to change that, but ultimately, he still had little real influence in a nation that was still figuring out exactly where Rangers belonged in the social pecking order.
A sharp whistle blew from behind him, and Geralt turned to look at the source, glanced at the men, who'd paused in their argument, and then looked again, as his male instincts told him a second look was required, immediately. Had his weakness not been darker haired women, he might've considered making an effort to woo this one. Beautiful didn't begin to do justice to her features, but he at least resisted staring at her cleavage. Unlike the rest of the room. To be fair, her endowments had nowhere to go in the formal suits the League gave to employees, and the result was, in a word, glorious.
Finally, the Unovan Chairman spoke. "Ahh, Haley. I'm glad you're here. Gentlemen, our newest hire, one we snagged from the PNN. I knew as soon as I saw her work she was wasted on John Crimson. I assume you have something important, my dear?" Geralt looked the man over quickly, and his opinion of him rose further. It was genuine, almost grandfatherly eyes that were on the girl, entirely devoid of lust. As far as he could tell. The rest of the room was making little effort to hide where they were staring, though he couldn't blame them too much. Even his eyes were drawn like magnets, despite his focus on her face, ear, anything above the neck, really.
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The blonde nodded, and then made a gesture on the tablet device she carried. She raised a hand then, and tossed something invisible towards the back wall of the room, upon which an image was projected. Not missing a trick, the Chairman, with aid from his taller compatriots, set the screen up. "You're missing the Prophet's latest speech…and seeing as how our Top Ranger has a personal mention…" The blue eyes shifted to him, and gave him a look he wasn't too familiar with. A mix of apprehension, disgust, and fear. "You should probably watch too…"
The video buffered for several increasingly awkward minutes, until finally, it played from the start. The opening title cards for the Church's programs had not lessened in absurdity over the past two months, but eventually the alluring baritone of Caleb Pravus, now taking on a tone of fake empathy, at least to Geralt's ears, filled the room. His visible skin seemed rather shiny and pink, as though he were sweating or covered with water, but evidently make-up had not been enough to cover the slight aberration in the usual bad tan. Caleb Pravus was far too pale to pull off the 'classic Fornia' look, but naturally, nobody said anything.
"My people…these past few nights we have suffered several setbacks, it is true. Many have asked what happened at Urbe Monachus and Straviken. Rumors abound, stories are flying, and I am here, as always, to set the public's record straight. This is a glorious time for us, and events should be recorded in detail, and in proper order." He gestured to an image on the screen, and Geralt's insides went cold with dread. It was a standard Arcean command center, one he'd charged through whilst transformed…and it was drenched in blood. Various body parts still lay strewn about, despite the numerous Crusaders who were, even as the cameras rolled, cleaning the mess.
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"The Slayer of Straviken is responsible for this. Who is this foul creature you ask? An abomination, created by Unovan scientists, part man, part Lycanroc, and every bit as evil as the Psychic Types who no doubt pull his strings. More importantly…he is the Top Ranger of this continent, and a man held in high esteem by the Pokémon League. After this bloody night's events, and the resistance from the League Champions in Sinnoh's glorious conversion, the Church has decided. The Pokémon League are now among those we consider to be Suppressive Persons, and shall henceforth be shunned by Arceans across the world." There was a crowd before him this time, and he appeared to be speaking from the inside of an Arcean Church. A raised dais bore the solid gold pulpit from which he was orating.
Murmurs filled the room, and the Prophet silenced them with a glance. "Many of you are no doubt concerned. The League has ever been a close ally of Fornia, even though they refused to fund our Gyms and Champion halls, many of you have friends among their ranks. There is no word appropriate for a House of Arceus that fully encapsulates the kind of organization that would hide such dark deeds with so many kind ones, but alas, any kindness from them is but a mask, a distraction from what they don't want you to see. It may also interest you all to know that this Butcher is the Dragon Puppet's own cousin. I have told you all time and again of the foul corruption in the Redwood lineage, and now…unfortunately, I have hard evidence of their murderous tendencies. But the men we lost will not have given their lives in vain. Rest assured my people; your Church will not relent until our enemies are ground to dust before our righteous crusade!" He raised his arms, and cheering filled the air, as did applause.
The video ended, and all eyes shifted to Geralt. Finally, he moved his gaze from the floor, to the Victory League's Chairman. "Don't bother explaining. I know something of your…abilities, and after seeing those scars, I imagine whatever you had to do to get out was ultimately necessary. They were the ones who decided to prick our hide by capturing you, it's their fault they couldn't hold you. No Human like yourself has ever experienced Shadow Infusion lad, that you left anyone alive at all in that state is a miracle." Geralt had shifted his gaze to the floor again, as hazy memories of death rose from his subconscious. He looked up as he felt a small, but still masculine hand pat his arm as the Chairman had stood, and made his way to Geralt. "Any men who were caught in the madness of your escape likely knew full well who they were guarding. Caleb Pravus has a serious hatred for your family. In either case…the situation has already changed. We've no choice, now. He's forced our hand. All in favor of allying with the Dragon of Unova?"
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The hands of those not present went up first, and though Charles was the last to raise his, he eventually did as well when it became clear nobody would support another refusal. To deny the others now would only cause more pointless dithering. The Arceans had already demonstrated what happened to governing bodies who didn't organize a response against them, after being declared enemies. None of the other State officials from the Arcean's new territories, League or governmental, had contacted them either.
They had asked Tao to look for the missing representatives, for they had heard rumors that he was quite adept at finding seemingly random Fornian citizens, usually families, with his awesome sight. He'd told them that by now, they were likely Arceans themselves, or prisoners slaving away under them. He'd added their names to whatever list governed which Fornians he personally had a claw in saving though, so it was better than nothing. Looking around, the Chairman nodded. "It is decided, then. Facilities in Kalos, Unova, and the remaining regions of Japan will mobilize to aid the local governments and Trainers in repelling the Church's 'crusade'."
His gaze moved back to Geralt. "I hope you're ready for more, because I have a feeling we'll need you, lad."
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A voice interrupted them then, as Haley set about gathering her equipment. Oddly enough, she was the only one among them who hadn't flinched at the sheer power in the mental baritone thundering in their heads. Even those joining them by Holociever hadn't been immune. "I will be utilizing the White Wolf. His skills are needed for the next phase of this conflict."
While most of the gathered men looked about in confusion, the Victory League Chairman didn't miss a beat. He addressed the air above the table, "Then he is at your disposal, mighty Dragon, as are we all. It is unanimous, as you wished it to be. The League will aid you. Without you, we would all be dead and conquered by now anyways."
"You would." A pair of golden eyes manifested above the table, and scanned each of them. Finally, they rested on Haley. "I will be borrowing her, as well. She will be useful, down south."
Haley glanced up at the eyes, seemingly irritated rather than honored. "Really? You're sending me to Texico?"
There was a deep chuckle, and a pause. "Much further south."
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The room went quiet, and the occupants shifted uncomfortably. Everyone knew what going to the Dark Continent brought, unless one went by cruise ship. Only the coast of that foul place played host to humanity now, and their city was almost entirely ruins, though admittedly, the parts of it yet inhabited were reportedly quite nice. Typically, Unovans tended to head for Alola or Kalos when they vacationed. Nothing good was ever reported about the Dark Continent, in fact, most reports involving it, as well as news, were only related to those who had ventured south into the jungle on a journey, and had not returned.
"My Tamer will know how best to use your skills. I will send you to him, when you are ready."
Haley frowned. "I'd have to go home and get my ba-" and with a flash of psychic power, she vanished. The eyes shifted to Geralt then, and the dragon's voice, somewhat muted as it was now confined to just his head, thundered loudly.
"You know of the Trainer called Wes? One of the Orre region's strongest?" Geralt had uncertainty, but as the Dragon shared a mental image of the man, albeit a bit older than when he'd brought down Cipher, Geralt recalled what stories he'd heard of the 'Snatcher'. "He has the key to bringing Fornia's technological advancements to a halt. Find him, and then I will share what task I have for the two of you."
What Alex had described of speaking to the Original Dragon helped here, and Geralt responded with his thoughts directing them as best he could, towards the Dragon. "And what if he says no?"
Another chuckle, though this one seemed, to his mind, a little sinister. "Worry not. He'll agree. Go, White Wolf."
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The eyes vanished then, and Geralt was left staring at the assembled men who, the more he looked at them, seemed to represent more organizations than just the League. Several had logos of the major businesses in Unova on their suits, specifically the ones with the large, memorable buildings dotting New Tork's skyline. "It seems I have my mission. I, erm…need a lift to Orre."
The men shared another look, then chuckled. "Orre is enemy territory now, lad. We can get you to Aweston down in Texico, but beyond that, is a war zone. One of the Scales might be willing to help you, if you can find'em." Geralt nodded, and then gestured to the door, seemingly undisturbed about the idea of charging through enemy lines
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Rio – The Dark Continent
image [https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/107dc055-197f-4c79-a8d4-bf5e3018e03b/df3szso-3a28182b-362f-441e-9d1a-5d9dc76a6a66.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzEwN2RjMDU1LTE5N2YtNGM3OS1hOGQ0LWJmNWUzMDE4ZTAzYlwvZGYzc3pzby0zYTI4MTgyYi0zNjJmLTQ0MWUtOWQxYS01ZDlkYzc2YTZhNjYuanBnIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0._hg_3oU80mFdrgK9IU9ePp8qpuEULd70lt0jWxPCieo]
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After reclaiming Shruikan from the Kanadian Wall, the east's Rayquaza had taken charge of the wall's defense, and the 'Emperor's Scales', including Jessica's, had split into numerous smaller groups to help train more Scales for deployment, as their Generals went south to gather information. After several days of travel, their luxury ship had cruised up to the free port city of Rio, famously known for their hospitality, though rumor had it that, if you wanted to leave, you should avoid drinking the water. Nobody ever seemed to quite know why, but more than a few tourists who had ignored that advisory had ended up moving in over the years, after visiting. Once more the Dark Continent proved that it kept those from the north who visited it.
For all the sketchy rumors though, compared to Black City, Rio was rather welcoming. There were familiar clouds of skunky-esque haze, and other flamboyantly dressed Trainers aboard other, and usually smaller, ships waved at them as they joined the clusterMuk of ships that made up the massive city's harbor. The harbor itself was home to even more strange, floating sights. More than a few men in flamboyantly colored suits on little more than rafts seemed to be playing an admittedly smooth jam on what appeared to be Saxophones as they cruised through the wake of the many passing ships. The Scales Alex and Jess had brought with them noted most of the fishermen, or other people on their boats smoking and generally chillaxing, tended to be singing along with the Saxophone fueled jam. The words were hard to make out, but the name of the city and the region they were entering, Rio, was repeated several times. It seemed to be some sort of anthem for the city. Once they found a dock, they realized that, comparatively, they were one of the smaller ships here. Rio's Dark Fleet was legendary, though the ships comprising it evidently hadn't seen real action for quite a few centuries. That didn't make the resting and numerous gargantuan cannons any less imposing to dock near.
They had finished their morning bowl of Leaf, and had donned disguises via the Scale's on hand Pixie Plate crystal. The basic facial changes, along with clothing, and the usual perception filter Fairy disguises had, were enough to blend in against Arcean level security. Here, for once, nobody was supposed to be looking for them. Seeing the sky was filled with Trainers and flying types, usually battling, Alex and Arthur had hopped on Blaze, as they surveyed the city in a casual manner. For a Trainer, anyways. Nobody seemed to notice or pay any extra attention as they went high, and looked down.
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"Holy…that's the biggest city I've ever seen…" Arthur said, "I thought New Tork was supposed to be the biggest. This…covers the entire coast."
Alex gained a grim look, and nudged his Gallade with an elbow. "Look closer. Most of it is in ruins…and those who can't afford to inhabit the good buildings, reside in those that are derelict. If we stick to the areas that have legitimate ship traffic it shouldn't be an issue."
Arthur nodded, after taking a closer look. "We should find a place to scan from…Blaze, see anything?"
The Charizard growled. "There's a pedestal on a nearby mountain supporting what looks like giant white human feet. A little jagged maybe, but I could perch on it."
As they arced towards it, Alex glanced around. Nobody seemed to live within ten miles of this mountain peak, and the closest 'houses' were more jungle than shack. It was strange, because literally every other inch of available coast by the harbor had primarily tall white buildings shoved together to save as much room as possible. Several such clusters had even grown into something resembling a skyscraper, though the towering Dark Fleet ships were bigger than all of them.
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"Alex…what are you doing…?"
He chuckled as he heard Jess' voice in his head. "We're going to scan the habitable areas around the harbor for…I don't know, something interesting. You know how this works."
She gave the mental equivalent of a sigh. "This is how you get involved in regional affairs. Every time!"
"I'm just a casual dude riding a Charizard. Obviously, a Trainer. Obviously foreign. But totally normal. If you worry about sticking out too much, you will." He felt his partners nod, agreeing with that logic. Blaze had been disguised as well with reddish orange stripes along his rather sizable form. They had been thorough in their preparations.
Another sigh. "Casual. Right. You're just landing a massive fire lizard on the most noticeable mountain peak for miles. If you need us, we'll be doing the subtle approach." Alex's Scales had been given assignments from Tao in squads of two or three, usually paired with women from Jessica's squad, and sent throughout the many areas that needed reinforcement once contact with the southern lines had been re-established. Only a few of her Scales had joined them on this trip, as had Haley, a day earlier by way of Teleport. Evidently, holding a piece of the Dragon was enough for him to make an accurate transfer.
Slightly more aware, the three came upon the peak in question, but as with the air space around it, nobody was here. No security, no Pokémon, no sentient minds. Just them, and whatever this strange pedestal thing was. "Land in a manner that suggests we're taking a pause before flying towards our real destination…what direction we face won't matter. Arthur, let's do it."
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Blaze landed, folding in his wings, and sniffed at the air. It seemed like a relatively nice peak, a bit misty this early in the day, but he couldn't smell anything that would explain the lack of life in the immediate area. Even plant life hadn't grown here, which was a large part of what made it such a good landing spot.
As soon as their ride steadied himself, the two psychic types had begun. Immediately, they noticed something strange in the ground around them. "Fairy aura…" Arthur said, and Alex sighed in annoyance. He left scanning it to primarily psychic typed Arthur, as he'd long since given up trying to fight a type advantage directly. "It's…containing something…something foul…Human made contamination…we shouldn't linger… but if we don't poke at it, we should be fine."
Alex was still staring at the aura covered mountain, wondering what his race had done to whatever statue had seemed to once stand here. As Arthur turned his third eye to the city, Alex felt the Gallade's extended elbow smack his head. "I said no poking, silly Human. Leave it. We have a task, remember? If we waste time, more people die."
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They both looked then, and immediately, their third eyes were drawn towards the eastern parts of the massive city, just at the edge of what buildings seemed lived in still, and the ruins of the ancient megalopolis that extended northward, along the continent's curve. Rio truly had been quite massive. The area in question was teeming with powerful minds. Shielded minds. That was good enough for both of them, as the rest of the city seemed sparsely populated, only showing the usual latent psychic signatures of the humans living within.
Blaze flapped into the air again, and once more, nothing hindered them as they flew towards the jungle, and prepared to curve around the long way. They'd fly over ruins, but they wouldn't come close enough to be attacked until they'd reached the area with the other strong minds. They stayed very high over the massive rainforest below, but even from so high up, they could see it teeming with life.
"The river…" Blaze rumbled, and he shared his sight with the two on his back. A massive form of what could only have been a snake, or creature akin to one, moved as a dark shadow through the largest river in the area below them, that had to have been the Amazon. Alex guided them to the opposite direction of the creature, as he had no wish to test something that strong this early, nor was he aware of what Legends lurked on the Dark Continent. Eventually, they curved around, and came down the ruined coast line.
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Then, they saw the structure within which they'd sensed others with similar abilities. It was a palace of sorts, pyramidal in shape, but ultimately made of several larger white stone circles stacked atop each other, with only one set of stairs leading to what appeared to be the main entrance. Water flowed down every other side of it, and into massive tunnel-like structures that, presumably, brought the water throughout the city.
Blaze sniffed the air, and Arthur glanced around as they flew over the ruins, and came down near the sea for a better view of the building. "We are not alone."
Something moved in Alex's vision, and Arthur's eyes locked onto it, easily seeing through the invisibility the intruder had hidden herself with. Before his Trainer could utter a word, he'd leapt into the air, and began flying on his own power. The figure stopped, and Alex finally got a look as well, though he didn't need enhanced eyes as Arthur approached the figure, and booped it on the nose, before shooting backwards with a mirthful cry.
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The tiny Latias he'd booped became visible, shivering all over from the touch and the good feels that came with it, and then with a smirk of her own, chased after the Gallade. The two zipped through the air, and it soon became clear Arthur was more maneuverable, barely, and the Latias had a speed advantage over him. That is, until his heart piece flared with psychic energy.
His Mega Form took off, and the Latias had zero trouble keeping up with Arthur, though he was almost as fast. He didn't have the most stamina of their party, at least not for flying, and soon found he lacked the energy to keep outpacing the Latias who, by all appearances, was enjoying the game of tag.
For their part, Alex and Blaze had simply hovered in place and watched, taking note of how she flew, but also knowing full well neither of them could come anywhere near matching her speed. The Eon Duo was said to be as fast as (if not faster) than Rayquaza, but no human had ever successfully compared their flight speeds, as they varied greatly between individuals.
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As the fire lizard and the human watched the two with amused smirks, their necks began to tingle, as another presence, similar to the Latias, appeared behind them. With a unified glance, the two looked up and over them as the once invisible head of the large Latios (larger than anything the Pokédex said, at any rate) appeared above them.
His eyes flared with a familiar light blue glow, and a telepathic voice echoed in their heads. "What are you…I know that typing, but…" His nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. "Dragon blood? Here? But there's another scent…"
Feeling a nudge from Lux, Alex raised the plasma sword, but didn't ignite it. The handle wasn't too obvious, but the black and white blade belonged to only one person, and Alex was aware that the Pokénet had made it a bit of an icon. Arthur, who had stopped when he felt his partner's surprise, felt a tug on his 'cape'. Seeing the Latios, he realized this little one was much younger, and likely a direct descendant. He continued zipping through the air, playing tag, though he was more cautious with how hard he tapped her.
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The Latios inhaled again, and nodded. "I see. So it is time…come to the palace when you are ready." He glanced at the Latias then, and his eyes flared once. She stopped in place effortlessly, and Arthur whizzed by, trying to avoid crashing into her.
She joined the Latios then, and the two disappeared from sight as they headed for the castle. Alex landed on the beach then, and as he brought Blaze in, several Trainers stared at the fire lizard, and reached for their Pokéballs. Unlike many Unova Trainers, not one of them had kept the original red and white, and their colors, patterns, and combinations were almost painful to look at.
Smirking, Alex accepted the Triple Battle, calling out his Aurorus and Lairon to help Blaze. Gelauros did the most damage with his Blizzard, as it seemed grass types were common here, and the Vileplume and Ivysaur they'd faced hadn't lasted long. An Air Slash and Crunch had been enough to finish the Azumarill, and for three more rounds, the local Trainers found themselves consistently losing to the trio. He'd kept them from mega evolving, and hoped his newer members weren't as well recognized as some of the rest of his team yet.
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Nobody seemed to notice or ask his name though. The beach was full of flamboyantly dressed Trainers who, by unspoken agreement it seemed, kept talking to a minimum. They were here to train, and all one had to do to blend in was battle. True to rumor, the battles being had were typically between grass, water, and dark types. Apparently, this was the ideal habitat for them, though the jungle housed every type of Pokémon, and likely several that had never been seen before. Eventually, Alex recalled everyone but his Lairon, and the clever steel type managed a hat trick of victories, and sometimes against a serious type advantage, as they made their way to the nearest boardwalk. Ceno seemed to be enjoying the sights and sun, so Alex kept him out.
He came upon Jess and the others, and raised a hand, catching a pair of what smelled like breakfast burritos in his oversized grip. He took a seat as he tested a bite of one, and nodded, giving the other to his patiently, and eagerly, awaiting Lairon. The steel type rumbled in pleasure, vibrating the ground slightly as he enjoyed the meal.
He looked between the gathered women, and Haley pinched her brow. "Only you would consider playing with a Latias in broad daylight subtle. Seriously, we're supposed to be low-key."
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Alex smirked. "Well, my low-keyness just got us an invite to the regional palace, within which said Latios and Latias currently are. Do you want to go speak with the Eon Duo, or should we keep sitting around eating the food? I don't mind either, really. This is delicious." He nommed the rest of the burrito then, and only paid half attention to her response.
She rolled her changed green-blue eyes. "We should find a…library, or something."
Jess chuckled then. "While useful, libraries aren't the best source of information in new, unfamiliar regions. The ones who've spent their lives reading from them are. I imagine a palace has plenty of myths…perhaps even ones on old enemies, that are likely to not be in the public record."
The blonde-turned-brunette relented, and the other Scales chuckled. They knew better than to test those two with 'Tinvaak'. "Fine. Let's go." Cenomons poked his ball as they began walking in the intense humidity, but the Scales were used to much, much worse heat and dampness. Haley was sweating, but didn't otherwise react to the hot, humid weather.
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As they casually strolled towards the palace complex, they saw the guards responsible for its security. Each one had a long, blue, seemingly metallic staff that held slots for ten Pokéballs, not at all unlike those used by the Tribes up on the northern continent, and universally blue clothing, though there was no strict uniform to speak of, the uniformity came from the ocean blue every outfit sported. Evidently, this place was not as flamboyant as the rest of the city. It sat between the eastern edge of habitable houses, and the western edge of the ruins that extended along the continental curve, isolated from both by a wall that included a little bit of ocean, and a beach. There were other inhabited areas further north, but Rio was by far the largest of any population inhabiting the massive city ruins, having eventually absorbed all the other population centers that had once lived on their part of the coast as well.
The guard that appeared to be in charge waved them over as they came near. He was sporting a metallic serpent-headed helmet, that shared the deep blue coloration of his peers. Now that he looked, Alex noticed that those closest to the palace did have a kind of scale-like armor, which was the same deep blue. An aura of that same blue spread from the guard, and examined each of theirs. He was surprised to find that the foreigners had already formed aura shields, and could even hide them from view, when they needed to. They'd been keeping them going, casually, for constant defense. Against a few attacks, anyways. There was potential in each of them.
"We were told of your coming. Enter as an honored guest, Dragonblood."
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The aura receded, not finding anything truly foul amongst them, or their partners, and the man raised a fist. The nearby gate opened, and a pair of guards guided them, with weapons at rest. They were led to a large library, several rooms into the massive white stone structure. Even here, water flowed continuously, including over the door. Though they hadn't gotten damp, their disguises had been washed away.
The sound of the constant flow made their spicy throats dry, and the numerous pools around them seemed suddenly tempting. The group of Trainers smirked at each other as they almost simultaneously reached for their personal water containers. They could all feel the urge to drink, but common sense dictated that they avoid the glowing magic water, no matter how alluring it looked.
A chuckle came from behind one of the spiral helix shaped book stacks that, on closer inspection, appeared to be floating on their own. "Northerners are always so quick to avoid our water…it really is safe, I promise…" The woman speaking came out from browsing then, and a small, redheaded girl came behind her. She ran up to Alex, who noticed she came to about his waist, and she then proceeded to raise a hand, and open Arthur's Pokéball with a psychic tap.
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Arthur appeared with a flash of purple, and soon once more found himself playing tag, and keeping the energetic youngster from knocking over anything too valuable, by way of telekinesis.
Alex watched for a moment, still amused, then focused back on the woman. She shared the same deep blue coloration as her guards, and wore a dress that looked like it wouldn't be out of place in a Kalosian palace, but he knew a regional leader when he saw one. From the strength of her mind, he had a feeling she was, in some manner, tied up with this region's Legendary Guardians. Those at the top usually were. "I only know of one dragon blooded Human with such a handsome Gallade. So tell me, Emperor Redwood, what brings you to my home during these dark, and bloody days?"
He glanced around, saw they were alone, then shrugged. "Oh, you know. A bit of harmless, and entirely neutral reconnaissance. I assume you've heard of my western counterpart." The woman nodded her head, and her equally deep blue waist-length hair shifted with the motion, not unlike a pond when disturbed by a pebble. "Well as it turns out he has, somehow, managed to fuse himself with a Pitch-Black Pokémon. At least twice. A...draconic friend of mine suggested I'd find more on him down here, since there was, according to him, once an entire city's worth of Humans who did something similar in the old days."
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She nodded, and her eyes went hazy as she seemed to recall what information she did know. He sensed Jess give Haley an elbow nudge, but the reporter turned administrator was more focused on the Gallade and what she assumed was the aforementioned Latias. They'd shifted into a much more complex, and quicker, game of clapping hands together in a repetitive motion, and upon seeing the woman's gaze, the girl waved her over, all smiles. Soon, she'd joined in as well, but that didn't keep her from paying attention as the blue-haired woman began to speak.
"Around three thousand years ago, in the mountainous and largely inhospitable mountains to the west, those we deemed too…criminally inclined for our glorious Rio were sent to live out their existence in exile. Over time, the banished grew into a village, then a town, and finally a city, after we expelled a cult of foul sorcerers who, at the time, we believed to be in league with Atlantica. Zigma banished them to the west, and we thought the matter was handled…" Jess coughed politely, and the woman paused, raising an equally blue eyebrow.
"Sorry, it's just…you speak as though you were there…also…Zigma?" The woman regarded them again.
"Do you really not know of Zigma up north? Do tales of the Zigman Empire not continue to inspire friendship, camaraderie, and the search for knowledge?" Seeing the puzzled looks on the faces of the women, she frowned, but Alex's was as impassive as a cliff face.
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"Tao mentioned the name to me, once, but did not elaborate." He admitted with a shrug.
She raised a brow at the name, but assumed she knew of whom he spoke. "Well, since we're on the topic of names…I am Iara, leader of the free city of Rio, and Tamer of Yacuma, water aspect of our great, and long-sundered Guardian, Zigma. As Arceus left the northern continent the First Dragon for a Guardian, we were granted Zigma and under her rule, our people flourished as no other human civilization did. Our technology for taming Pokémon was unmatched, our Pokémon Tamers, the strongest on the planet. The sorcerers I mentioned…they were but the first spark in the war, about three centuries past, between us and Atlantica. They plotted and goaded each side into the war which ravaged our city, as well as the entire Atlantican civilization…once we returned to our shores, battered and exhausted, the sorcerers poured from the jungle, wielding the power of Shadow and nightmares. Lightning shot from their hands, and they fed on the life essence of my people as they sacked what little remained of Rio."
She paused, and her blue eyes fell to the floor. She glanced up, as the little girl, who'd temporarily abandoned Arthur and Haley, tugged on the sleeve of her flowing dress, and radiated emotions of peace and calm. Iara smiled, and tousled the red hair, before sending her back towards the Gallade. "I was indeed alive during those times…like I said, you should drink the water. In those days, I was still young. Zigma drove the dark ones back alone, in a battle that shook the entire jungle. For three days she barreled through the forests of Selva Muerta, attacked on all sides, but relentless in her determination. Eventually, she forced the dark ones back into their mountainous metropolis of stone, and with a display of power that killed her previous Tamer, my father, and split her in three, she turned every one of the sorcerers to ghosts, bound to the city for the rest of their unnatural existence, and doomed to die of gnawing, insatiable hunger for life."
"You said you are the Tamer of but one aspect of Zigma…who are the other two? Do they have Tamers as well?" Alex met her gaze as she looked up at his question, with some measure of surprise.
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"I do not know of other Tamers, but then, I rarely leave the palace. As for other aspects…there is Mamboa…the Guardian of the jungle. He is…considerably more ill-tempered than Yacuma, but beneath his scales, his heart is yet gentle…towards Pokémon, at least. My people know how to traverse the jungles without incurring his wrath, but the Humans who live on the west coast, usually pirates in shoddily made port cities, have made a habit of chopping away at the forests, as our ancestors did, with reckless abandon and no regard for the damage and wanton destruction they cause. It is these Humans with whom Mamboa usually interacts…and kills, for their actions. The other is Sombrador. I have never seen it, but Yacuma said that aspect of Zigma stayed behind to guard the Kingdom of the Dead, and make sure that the specters within all died of starvation. To that end, it stayed to keep any more Humans from entering…though there have been exceptions, of course. Usually, such exceptions only end up as a meal for the spirits, but a few with the Sight have made pilgrimages to our dark defender, to thank it for guarding us. Since they returned alive, we assume the dark one favors, or at least tolerates, our presence in this darkened land."
Drake, one of the other Scales that Alex had elected for this mission, along with his partner Rick, spoke up then. "What's the Sight?"
The women nodded. "What the sorcerers wrought on our land infected all who live here. Some among us gain eyes that can see the ghosts of this world, always. They can see more, with training, and this allows them to safely travel the jungles. Naturally, they're also our strongest Trainers."
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Seeing as how she evidently already knew their identities, Alex let his eyes flare up with psychic power. The entire chamber seemed to pause in its constant flow as he did, and the foreigners shifted nervously. "Would these eyes give us a similar immunity to death, were we to traverse them?"
The bronze skinned woman leaned in uncomfortably close, as she examined the eyes. The back of his neck tingled with instinctual fear that, he realized, he'd experienced before, when facing down an Arbok or Seviper that belonged to particularly powerful Trainers in a particularly large Swamp. Finally, she spoke, and he exhaled as subtly as he could. "Perhaps. I'd recommend some kind of armor, our Trainers have the ability to fashion such from obsidian, but I think…you would be fine. If you stay together, and don't…irritate anything. Don't try flying either. Humans irritate the aerial hunters, and I promise, you will be dead before you ever see them attack you. Travel on foot when trying to cross Selva Muerta."
Arthur, who had since rejoined them, and had apparently mega evolved at some point while playing with the Latias, chuckled as he rejoined the conversation. The little girl had taken to hanging on his various limbs now, but he could, finally, actually manage to talk despite that. "I have moves of almost every elemental Type in this head of mine. All physical, all strong. Let the Dark Types come. I can handle those." The arm not occupied by a young Pokémon in human disguise flared up with gold, which of course drew her attention. She leapt for it, but it ceased glowing as she caught hold. His now free blade lit up instead.
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If Iara was impressed, she didn't show it. "I have given the warning. I don't care if you die. Less competition, really. Unova and Albion will be… 'helped', if you perish." She gave her best unsettling grin, but the dragon blooded Emperor had grown used to the look by now. She'd had her chance to strike them, but he was still curious. "Would you really get involved if we did not return? You'd commit to aiding two foreign territories so easily? Even when one is embroiled in war and the other puppet to a witch?"
The woman raised her other brow now, "To rule them, yes. The Dragon Empire must have fallen far to not recall those over which they once held power. That would explain much, actually…"
Alex continued the conversation, satisfied that he'd learned something of the woman. From what they'd heard, not one single person, in the entire city, went without water. It was what made their seemingly immortal Queen so loved, by those in houses, and those with nothing. If she cared that much for those under her, Unova at least might not be in bad hands. But he had no intention of dying. "These former hybrid ghost sorcerers…let's say that, hypothetically, one escaped, say about three hundred years ago…" He resisted smirking as he saw her eyes widen with recognition. "Let's say, hypothetically, he was carried north by the current, and landed on a beach, where he met a man. A man who happened to be the leader of a cult. A cult which may or may not have grown into something truly foul, and massive enough, to cover the entire western half of our continent, when said cult leader eventually died of mortality, and his successor, did not."
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It was his turn to move into her face now, and his eyes shifted again as he embraced the dragon's power. He felt his neck tingle again, seemingly from the chamber itself, but it did nothing to hinder him, and he genuinely had no intention of harming anyone. He broadcasted that intention as effectively as he could. "How would a hypothetical dragon blooded Human go about killing such a creature, who let's say, hypothetically, created and fused with another Darkrai at the expense of a city."
The woman raised her right hand, and the instinctual fear faded, slightly. "Hypothetically…you would need a sword, or some other hypothetical sharp implement, to sever the connection between the two. Finding where they're fused should be easy for those eyes…but the first Darkrai, will not be able to be excised. They're fused, you see, and I imagine the new one is powering them both with dark energy that only a Darkrai can pull directly from the Nexus, from a place as far as Fornia…"
Alex let his eyes fade, having got his point across. The flowing within the chamber resumed, though perhaps a bit slower than before. "What Nexus?"
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At that, the woman glanced up. "You know more of it than I do. You were there."
The increasingly familiar fear that they'd all been feeling now had a moving source, as water fell from the ceiling, and rose from the floor, to form a truly gargantuan, deep blue scaled snake that, with a glance, they saw was both water and dragon typed.
The unease faded somewhat as the Legendary Pokémon's soothing, and unquestionably feminine, voice echoed in their skulls. "You…Dovahssssosss…you are the one who reunited the Original Dragon? Issss what Eo tellsss me true? The Dragon isss whole again?"
Alex nodded, having a fair guess at what Pokémon within this place would bear a name like Eo, and be on speaking terms with a Legendary Dragon. "Yes. I'm the one who brought him back. Though, I had quite a bit of help."
The vertical slits within the blue eyes of the giant reptile widened slightly, as they went to his belt. "Clad in the bonessss of his brothersss indeed…very well. Pay attention, Ssscaless of Balance," She seemed to smirk at the name, though the more she spoke the more at ease they felt. She had the ferocity of a mother, but, as they were no threat to her people, they had nothing to fear. "The Nexusss iss a Human creation. Old technology, from three millennia passst, wass usssed to sssacrifice an unknown number of Humansss from the junglesss, and the ssouthern partsss of the land known asss Texico. The sssorcererss we exiled to die, endeavored to live, and eventually, found a way to form the gathered dark energy into what your ssspeciess callsss Darkrai, and fussse with it. The Nexusss is fueled when a Human diesss, and leavesss behind Ghossst energy. It convertsss it to darknessss, and the ghossstsss within the city persssssissst." She finished with an angry hiss, and looked to her Tamer, as she stroked the water serpent's leathery and slightly lighter blue underbelly.
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"I tell all of my people, daily, not to venture into those mountains. The longer the Nexus exists, the longer Sombrador must guard it, and the longer Zigma must stay split. Mamboa grows ever darker towards Humans, and eventually, his rage will be sparked, enough perhaps for him to attack she who is his counterpart, and her people. If the two snakes fight, our people are doomed. That is what our last Seer prophesied, anyways." She nodded towards the Latias who, by this point, had dropped her human form, and was zipping around Arthur's head, dodging, narrowly, the sharp spike on his 'helmet' with numerous aerial barrel rolls. "That one, will be like her mother, but until she matures, we cannot get a…clearer depiction of these events, and how to avoid them. We have been without a Seer for some time, and this one only recently hatched."
Alex glanced at Jess, as she had the thought, and the redhead spoke. "So…I guess hypothetically…if this Nexus were to suddenly vanish, what would happen?"
The large snake's head tilted to one side, and they got a good look at her fangs. Naturally, they were made of ice, as like most water types, she used ice attacks frequently, and it made her and Mamboa more or less equal in strength. Were his typing to shift from grass and dragon, to grass and dark, he would have an advantage, for she had no doubt he would retain his Outrage. Even with a quadrupled weakness to ice, he had ever been difficult to keep in check. "Your foe'sss body would weaken, and he would begin relying too heavily on hisss new Darkrai for sssusstenance. Though he isss far away, the Nexusss iss large, and sstill sssusstainsss him, asss it doesss all hisss people, thossse who fussssed themssselves with manifesssted darknessss. He would likely ssseek yet another place to ssssuck the life from. If he addsss a third Darkrai, he will become a Champion of the Sssshadowsss. I trussst you know of the lassst one…"
The Unovans nodded in unison. Giratina had, according to new finds in Sinnoh from the former Champion Cynthia, gone on a rampage because, somehow, it had been infused with foul energy, that she had eventually confirmed was Shadow. It had taken Arceus himself to put Giratina away, which implied that the deity either couldn't kill Giratina, or didn't want to. Many suspected it was a combination of both.
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"When and if you sssucceed in sssevering him from hisss newessst acquisssition, bring him home…he will rot, with hisssss people, asss a ghossst..." Alex bowed in the Unovan fashion, and the dragon once more became water, and flowed throughout the palace, and into the city. It had never stopped, though the flow had slowed, slightly, outside of the room they'd occupied.
Iara looked them each over again, and smirked. "You have a plan to destroy the Nexus, don't you…do you know anything important about Shadow and darkness that you'd like to share?"
Alex smirked. "This is the Dark Continent, correct?" She nodded. "Then you have your answer, if you consider where we're from. Think it over, it's not complicated."
Still puzzled, but not willing to show it, she pushed for more. "How did you combine the dragons of Unova again? Was it technology?"
He shook his head. That knowledge, he'd give freely. "No. Technology could only bring Kyurem and the other two together one at a time, and while those fusions are strong…they're nothing compared to the Original. The means I used were…divine, though there was a bit of complex energy manipulation as well…nothing someone down here couldn't try to replicate, I'm sure. Should the Nexus say, suddenly vanish in the next few days."
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She blinked at him, twice. "Well Sombrador would have to come back as well…"
A familiar voice echoed from all around them. "Mamboa would come…if Sssssombrador did."
Alex nodded. "We'll see what we can do."
The Scales left the palace, and traveled incognito once more until they came upon the jungle's edge. It wasn't hard to find. Around the populated areas, pairs of deep blue clad guards stood watch between the city and the jungle. Death within was very real…if one was not prepared. They'd waved them in with nods and rumblings of 'good fortune' for their journey.
It was at the edge that they'd split their party. Haley and six others were going to stay behind, and try to find additional information on weaknesses these ancient human-Darkrai hybrids had. The only three who could use Light energy, namely Alex, Jess, and one of her Scales, would enter Selva Muerta. Drake and Rick Astley would also search the massive rainforest, and psychically pass on word of their discovery, if they managed to find the Kingdom of the Dead before Alex's group did. Together, they figured they could probably do something about this supposed well of darkness. They didn't need to ask Tao for guidance either, as they knew well what he would do, if the opportunity to weaken an enemy presented itself.
The two Scales waited patiently as their chosen companions prepared for the trek into Selva Muerta, already sweltering beneath the heavy leather-like cloaks covering the stifling armor. At the very least, it kept the smaller insects, namely mosquitos, from biting at them. They had been eradicated on the northern continent, more by damage from nuclear warfare than anything else, but it seemed here the infamously annoying bloodsuckers thrived. They were an Old Earth species that refused to die, though he imagined more than a few had become Pokémon at some point. Once their newest female travel partner, an Articuno rider who went by Svelka, had her own armor on, she'd pulled out an Icicle Plate from her bag, and it fused to her chestpiece. The resulting freezing aura kept the bugs, and many blood-sucking bug types, from going anywhere near the other four Scales as they journeyed into the dark jungle.