Weeks upon weeks of misery and early mornings hit George like a freight train. The longer he spent on the isle of Swords, the more the Swords upped the pressure. It began with training his constitution in the heat of the morning sun, and had escalated to rapid fire dodging.
And not any kind of dodging, either. Two blue horns glowed in the dark to the sound of charging hooves, which kicked up a cloud thick enough to mask others. Cobalion let out a cry as he barrelled towards the centre of the field, whoever stood there be damned.
"Haargh!"
George jumped out of the way, just as Cobalion made a pass at him. His scalchop nearly slipped out of his hand; at the speeds the Blue Sword came at, George's hands got jittery. Dodging without tripping over his tail was challenging enough at these speeds.
'Damn it! Why does he never slow down?!'
Cobalion braked to a stop, dirt flying as he forced his hooves into the earth. He shot an indignant glance towards George, who breathed uneasily in his wake.
"Posture. Focus! Where is it? And strike back, damn you!"
The blue Sword left no time for idle chatter, as he took off galloping once again. He circled around the Dewott fiddling with his shells, building up speed. George had no easy way to counter. Too fast to dodge, too agile to hit back, and far too strong to parry head-on. Those horns might as well have been made of adamantium with how sturdy they were. What was a scalchop to that, but a splinter to a tree?
The Blue Sword made a sharp turn before charging in. George had to do something, lest he be trampled. Whether under hooves or scorn, it didn't matter.
But he had a plan. The best one he came up with on the spot. First he flung his right scalchop out towards the fast approaching legs, steering it with telekinesis. All the while, he clutched onto his left scalchop with enough force to snap a branch in half, feet shifting in the dirt, knees bending.
The first scalchop struck Cobalion on the joint of a leg, making him gasp as he was thrown off balance. His opponent staggering, George leapt at his head, his left hand ready to slice. He swung his weapon, and struck horns.
When Cobalion and George collided, their energy bounced off each other, blasting both backwards onto their feet. George hissed, his fists clenching hard as his scalchops flew back into them. Pain burned up his arm, the blunt of Cobalion’s strength having been funnelled within.
‘That good enough for you…?’
As the dust settled back into the earth, Cobalion emerged from the other side on all fours. Though his horns and legs came out intact, his contempt did not; his head rose, a smirk having replaced the scowl.
“That… is how it’s done. That is the form I am looking for. That is what happens when you stand up for yourself in battle.”
A fang stuck out of George’s upper mouth, the others biting down on his lip. “Let me guess, still not good enough?”
The Blue Sword whipped his head sideways. “No, but don’t be a smart arse. Celebrate the victories you achieve, or suffer a mind drenched in failure. We’re making progress, George. Good progress. Take a long, hard look at those arms of yours.”
The Dewott partially obeyed, glancing rather than staring. There’s celebrating wins, and then there’s gloating about them. Just because he had a little tone on his bones didn’t mean he’d have to revel in it. As far he was concerned, those who did were the kings of obnoxiousness. His facial expressions soured thinking about it.
‘Imagine staring at your muscles in the mirror, ugh. Only reason anyone does that is to attract people.’
“Ahem.” Cobalion cleared his throat. “Let’s not get distracted, here. The peak of the mountain is still some ways off.”
* * *
Telekinesis was more than a game of moving objects with the mind. A surface level analysis of the power was mistaking it for a power, and not an extension of the senses. When tuning into psychic energy, you became more than yourself. You expanded your reach and powers over the terrain around you, and manipulated it with the mind rather than your hands.
But mere control was not good enough. Psychic energy flowed through everything, the body included. When suspended in midair, kneeling on nothing in meditation with closed eyes, George grew a deeper understanding of what happened within. Every pulse of his heart, every pump of blood and contraction of the stomach, he felt it. He felt the rocks and twigs, the chair with the book on top, and the pile of apples floating nearby, orbiting him like planets around the sun.
And most important of all, he sensed the heartbeat of the Brown Sword bulldozing his way to him, a blade in his mouth. Long before the sound of his galloping hooves became too loud to ignore, George knew he was coming. And his sword was angled straight at the chair.
The Dewott breathed in deep, then leaned rightwards, his fingers making wave-like gestures in the same direction. As Terrakion arrived, George and the objects surrounding him moved out the way. Terrakion hit naught but air. Not even a grain of dust.
Not content to be stumped so easily, the Brown Sword began stomping his hooves on the ground, each slam leaving the earth vibrating and cracking underneath. Spiral rocks shot upwards, obliterating the stonesGeorge held onto with little effort. His peace had been broken; Terrakion’s sword now came the Dewott’s way.
‘Deep breaths.’
George’s scalchops detached from his kilt, then dove at Terrakion as he charged in. Just before he leapt at George, both shells slashed down upon him, parrying him and his sword in place. Though Terrakion’s strength was without peer, breaking a psychic attack proved to be a bridge too far. His sword faltered; the scalchops flew back to George, who continued to kneel in a sphere of his own psychic energy, the surrounding area coated in a blue light.
To this, Terrakion only whistled. “Damn, lad. You’ve been doin’ your homework. I’m proud of ya!”
The Brown Sword’s body language relaxed. No longer tensed up and ready to charge, no gritted teeth or menacing shakes of his head to be sensed. Since the risk of being gored was no longer an issue, George saw it as his cue to get down. He went in sync with all the objects in his orbit, from the rocks to the chair.
“Just doing my best here,” the Dewott deadpanned, ears flicking back and forth. ‘Isn’t that the whole point of going to class?’
“Sounds like our time together is paying off, then!” Terrakion said with a toothy smile, playfully scraping his hoof on the dirt. “But just to make sure you’ve really got it, what have you learned today?”
George smacked his lips once. “It’s not about raw strength. Nor about pure mental prowess. It’s about concentration and focus. Not letting yourself be broken by whatever goes on around you.” ‘Mental prowess? Is that language anyone uses outside of a classroom?’
Terrakion nodded along. “Good, good! You’ve hit the nail on its head, George. Of course, I can’t teach you everything myself. Arceus almighty alone knows what the Renegade and his cultists have in store for you. But don’t let theatrics or threats hold you back. Even when everything is on the line, panicking doesn’t help.”
“Easier said than done,” George said, now taking a walk around the practice field. Even with all the objects coming down in a circle, the field had a maze-like quality to it. Perhaps the brown mountainside looming overhead had something to do with it.
“Yes. But you have to start somewhere,” Terrakion replied, stretching his neck while following George around. “And as far as I’m concerned? We’ve achieved just that.”
* * *
“So, what is it you fear, George?”
In spite of the peace in the grove, George felt trapped. The question hit him square in the stomach, then left a nasty mark on the same spot. As if Virizion had force fed him the world's greasiest meal the moment he came onto the field. She’d invited him here, a place where blue fruits grew on trees at the tail end of winter, and the bushes were all rich with berries in spite of the cold. Peace, tranquil and quiet besides the sounds of running streams. Yet the tension was thick.
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The Green Sword tilted her head at him. “Well? Do you have an answer?”
The Dewott breathed in deep, the fur on the back of his neck standing upright. “I don’t know.”
“Have you given it much thought over the last few months?” she continued to prod. “Is it dying? Losing loved ones? Failing?”
Virizion had sat him down to poke holes into his soul. From George’s point of view, it went a step above that. She might as well have laid him out on a table and carved his soul open with a knife, vivisecting in search of every last insecurity and bit of feebleness he had. Everytime he had a session with her, she cracked him just a little more.
Friends, his past, who he thought Blitzer really was for some reason, whether he really trusted Terez and Hein. And that was scratching the surface. Why did he think he could last living as a Pokemon? Why did the headmistress at the foster’s home go after him? What’s with the bullying he endured? Even why his parents had left him there, to begin with. George struggled to answer most of these questions, because how would you even begin to answer them? He wasn’t the people who’d wronged him. He wasn’t a mindreader. All he had were his own experiences, as numerous as the hairs on his body.
And yet, in spite of his lack of detail, or struggles to process the nature of their conversation, Virizion weaved a web of emotions from the threads he gave her, a web with one figure at the centre: the Renegade. It seemed almost conspiratorial, the way she stressed the beast’s role in his life.
But when all was said and done? George sort of saw her point. In a way, the Renegade was the conductor in the orchestra. Life in Eravate over the past few years was defined by one question: Were you for, or against him? Who became Corrupted? What did that say about your character? And how does that compare to the world George came from?
At the same time, however, it all seemed forced. One beast doesn’t define lives, does it? No one just threw their sense of self away because something made them feel warm inside. Or did they?
“George?” The Green Sword questioned. “Everything alright?”
The Dewott sighed. “I’m fine.”
Virizion nodded. “Well then.Can you answer my question? What do you really fear, George?”
He looked away, arms crossed, toes cringing. “I guess… if I had to give you an answer, it would be losing track of who I am.”
“And what makes you say that?” Virizion asked, gently scratching her hoof deep into the grass. “Is it because of the war? Being sent to Eravate to live your days out as a Pokemon? Or because you lost your friend?”
George sighed. “They’re all related. I haven’t had any stability in my life since,” he paused for a moment. “Since forever,” he said, throat snapping shut. “Can’t even think of a specific example. But just… looking back to who I was the night before Eravate, and who I am now? I can barely recognise myself. Not just in the mirror. I was scared then. Optimistic in spite of all the punches I got.” ‘Figuratively and literally.’ “I had no friends, but I believed working hard would eventually get me someplace I could be happy.” He shook his head. “That George is dead now. Dead and buried.”
“Is he, though?” Virizion asked, the beginnings of a smile appearing on her face. “Because I’m seeing him in front of me right now. The same George, just grown.”
The Dewott shook his head. “I haven’t grown up. You’re just saying that because I’m tired. That’s all that changed. I’m tired all the time.”
For a brief moment, Virizion looked George in the eyes. Then, she reached out to one of his feet with a hoof, tapping the tips of his toes with her own tip. “Think of it this way. If you had the opportunity to help someone in danger, would you do it? Doesn’t matter if it is bullying or a deadly threat.”
The wind blew through the trees; George felt an itch crawl up his fur. “Yes, I would. If I can help, I will,” he said, a tooth sticking out of his upper jaw. ‘Like you can just say that right now, when no one’s in danger.’
“And if it were Blitzer,” Virizion continued, “what would you do?”
George stood up. “Help him out. What kind of question is that? I’m not leaving my best friend behind!” he said, raising his voice. That tiny little bit of doubt got to him in a major way, enough for his fists to ball up.
Virizion tilted her head the other way, smirking. “And say, George. Would you have done the same on the night you came to Eravate? Think about it, for a moment.”
The Dewott sighed, then sat back down. Obviously, Blitzer was a complete stranger to him at the time. At the time, if George saw a bipedal lizard with a fire at the end of its tail come at him, he’d have assumed it’s because said lizard thought he looked delicious. Then again, he and Blitzer literally bumped into each other, and how’d that turn out?
“If I had a friend like him at the time? Yeah, I would,” he paused to breathe, then folded his arms. “I might’ve gotten shot or stabbed, that’s what the city I lived in is like. But you don’t turn your back on a true friend. What kind of monster does that?”
The Green Sword breathed in, then out, letting the wind take over for a moment that lasted for far too long. She glanced away, shook her head. George stared at her all the while, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Sudden withdrawals didn’t come out of the drop of a hat. Had he gone too far?
“Indeed, George. Indeed,” she said, dragging her eyes back into contact with the Dewott. “But that is my point, isn’t it? Despite the fact that you've lost everything, from your body to the very world you lived on, you nevertheless remained the same. You never lost yourself. You only grew yourself."
George breathed in deep, before kicking a pebble by his feet. "Are you sure about that? Look at what's happening to Eravate. I've seen more war and death than I ever wanted to. And no one would ever claim that this was meant to be, right? I have changed. I used to be a good little boy. Innocent, if you'd prefer. What happened to him?"
Virizion shuddered, her teeth chattering a few times as she considered George's words. The Dewott himself wasn't letting his guard down - too much sweetness was as healthy on the soul as it was on the teeth. You just have to be honest about these things. Perhaps the Green Sword herself knew that. God knows how long she has been alive, and how many troubled people she has spoken to. Enough to understand where he came from, George hoped.
Eventually, after another pause that lasted far too long, Virizion tapped her hoof.
"You didn't lose yourself because of the war, George. But you were forced to grow up, and fast. That doesn't mean you've lost yourself."
George rolled his eyes. 'How typical.' "You had me until you said grown up. I'm not. I barely know what the hell I'm supposed to do with myself. Not just fighting, just me as a person. A huma-" He realised something mid sentence, and gulped. "...Pokemon with dreams, feelings, and a life of his own." 'It's hard to say the truth to myself. It doesn't even feel true.'
Virizion laughed. "Ah, a classic. Tell you what, the vast majority of Pokemon would struggle to say any different. We're all just figuring things out as we go, there's no shame in that."
The Dewott folded his arms. "Is there, though? Easy to say on the other side."
Virizion shrugged with her shoulders. "That's easy to say, yes. But I've lived through it. In the end, I came out okay, if I do say so myself. And do you know why? Because I never stopped believing in myself."
She pressed one of her hooves into the mud below; moments later, herbs arose all around, blooming in the blink of an eye, seasons be damned.
"That's what you should take to heart, George. Even if you can't believe in who you are, you should always keep calm, and carry on. Both in Eravate's crisis, and what comes after. Trust that you will make the right decision. You won't regret it." She left her lecture for the day with those words, her suggestion landing on partially open ears.
Whether he’d regret it or not was something George wasn’t ready to commit to. After all, they were perfectly safe on an island, and this was to prepare him for the world that existed beyond its shores.
The closer the day of departure came, the queasier the Dewott got. With the Renegade’s words still fresh on the mind, whatever’s beyond the fog curtain may very well be a trap. Could he get past that, and survive out there with the Alliance now in control? Forget setting things right, that was priority number one.
George shook his head on the way back to his shack. ‘It’s like I’m trying to dig myself out of a pit, honestly…’
* * *
It took two months in total for George’s training to finish. And it ended on the same note it began on; at the summit of the Isle’s tallest mountain, three figures standing opposed to him.
“Congratulations, George. We’ve taught you all we can on short notice. Not ideal, but it will have to do,” the Blue Sword said, a little pride breaking through the deadpan frown on his face. “We’re preparing to get you back to the continent as soon as possible.”
George’s eyes narrowed. “All you can do on short notice? So there’s more to learn?” he asked. “And what do you want me to do on the continent?”
The Brown Sword further back shook his head. “Ah, I wish we had more time for lectures, but we don’t have time on our side. The Renegade and his cult are running wild. The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be.”
“You’ll have to trust your instincts,” the Green Sword continued. “And remember:Have faith in yourself.”
Cobalion sighed, shaking his head. “Keep in mind, you will not be alone on the continent. Just look over your shoulder.”
George followed the Blue Sword’s lead. ‘Why’ was a good question to ask, given that he knew who he’d see behind him. They accompanied him to the summit again, of course. Why wouldn’t they? Hein and Terez had followed him around for so long, it would be stupid to think they’d stop now. But George found it hard to resist, and sure enough, there they were. One Gardevoir too stubborn to break, and a Dusknoir too determined to die, waving and smiling. Ever seen a Dusknoir’s smile? They did it with their chest.
The Dewott couldn’t help but wave back to them. Something about seeing their support warmed his heart. ‘They’re never leaving me behind, are they?’
“Ahem.” Cobalion cleared his throat once the waving had gone on for too long. “It’s more than just them. We have agents out there, and we will send out more to help you on your journey. Some of whom you might have met on the island. But you will have to do the brunt of the work.”
George sighed. ‘So much for relief, huh.’ “And what is the work?”
“May I?” Virizion asked, to which Cobalion and Terrakion both nodded. She winked in between both, then turned her head back to George. “You will have to unite the forces against the Cult. Free as many people you can from its clutches. And ready yourself for a showdown with the Renegade himself.”
Terrakion raised his head. “We’ve been fortunate thus far. The Renegade has all the power in the world, but has the Pokemon he’s brainwashed do all the dirty work for him. Even then… this calamity will not end, until he is brought to justice. Until he is banished.”
“Banished?” George asked.
“Back to where he came from,” Cobalion answered, stern and cold with a stomp of his hoof. “It takes a god’s power to bring down a god. Alas, the Renegade appears to be severing Eravate’s connection with the greater gods. Our hope is in the power that is here… two pieces of it, as a matter of fact. Fortunately, most are on the summit with us.”
George blinked, then felt a tug on his neck. ‘Oh.’ Frowning, he held up the incomplete Azure Flute. “Do you mean this?”
Cobalion raised his head up high. “Yes. And the one holding the flute, of course. All that is missing is one piece. I believe you are familiar with it, no?”
The Dewott nodded. “Yeah. Terez and I tried to steal it from the Crest, but they managed to stop us. If they had their way, either myself or that flute piece would be in their hands.” ‘Talk about dodging a bullet, only to hit a missile instead.’
Virizion then stepped out of the background, joining Cobalion up front. “It’s clear then, isn’t it? You must head up north, to Whitiara. What remains of the Vined Crest has rallied there, and the final piece of the Azure Flute should be with them. You should have an easier time retrieving it.”
“But that isn’t all!” Terrakion shouted, leaping ahead to unite the trio. “The road north will be filled with many hardships. Between the Dragonspines, and the seat of the Renegade’s power in the east, it’ll be a struggle getting there. You can’t make a straight shot for it. You must win the trust of Eravate’s people. Free them from the Renegade’s tyranny. Encourage them to support you. Only then will final victory be possible.”
George raised an eye, not seeing the connection. “What if I don’t?” he asked. “What if I head straight north?”
“Then the Alliance will inevitably catch up with you,” Cobalion said. “Everyone’s luck runs out eventually. Do not push it too far. It’s not for Eravate’s sake. For yours.”
The Dewott breathed in deep. “Got it. But that’s if I even get that far in the first place. They’re waiting for us on the shore, aren’t they?”
For the first time since the day they met, Cobalion smirked.
“Oh, have no fear. We’ve got something special planned to get you to the shore.”