A Winkle in Reality

[ApiLol123123]

Thanks for the chapter, eager to read the next one!!!

 

[HankPankylol]

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

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The dim light of the strangely dark morning dwindled behind us as we entered the Pokémon Tower, a long stone corridor leading in. Torches blazed on the walls, but did little to combat the cold that set in. Lavender was a chilly place, yet the second I stepped over the threshold to the mausoleum, the temperature plummeted.

What the light did, however, was illuminate the ancient, faded murals carved into the entrance. Slowing down a little, I fished out my flashlight and turned it on, the artificial light revealing etchings of Pokémon and humans alike, each accompanied by the exact crudely drawn figure of a woman clad in a long dress, face shrouded in a veil. A boy with a Nidorino in his arms was gently led by the shoulder as they entered the towering gates. A Machamp with a human cradled in its four arms, following in the footsteps of the swaying kimono. A group of warriors carrying a casket aloft, surrounded by a whole score of veiled women as they ascended the steps.

The sounds of Gary's footsteps growing distant forced me to hurry up, yet there was still time to notice that the drawings continued down the long hallway, every depiction showing the arrivals bent and broken, dragging still bodies along, but always guided by the woman.

So taken in by the art that might've been as old as Indigo itself – if not older – I almost walked into Gary as he stopped at the end of the entrance. Catching myself, I peeked around and couldn't blame him.

Smoke hung like mist – and maybe partly was – filling the room with a haze that extended endlessly in all directions, small balls of blue flame hovering amidst the clouds like tiny suns. The far walls were barely visible, and so was the ceiling, an immense expanse of drifting vapour obscuring everything with a blanket of swirling white, like we'd stepped through a portal to another dimension. Dark spots seemed to move behind the fog, indistinct shapes wavering and dancing in the light. There was a chill in the unnaturally still air, colder than even outside, and the scent of incense, earthy with a hint of spice, lay heavily.

Remembering Fuji's words about even the bottom floor being dangerous, I tensed and looked closer. It took a moment, but as I made out the origins of the shadows, a chill went down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature or the otherworldly vibe.

Headstones.

A countless number of them. Every time I moved my head, new ones peeked through the smog, an army of reminders for the centuries of fallen lying beneath our feet.

I swallowed thickly, nervous despite having expected exactly that, Eevee mewling in discomfort as Herc and Siren moved out in front of us, Growly and Squirty mirroring them on Gary's side.

Seconds passed as we waited there on edge, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. Neither Rick nor Selene was within sight, but there weren't any Ghost-Types either. In fact, there didn't seem to be anything within sight.

Maybe they took care of the Pokémon and went ahead-

"Your companions have already gone to the second floor."

The speaker didn't flinch as a twisted sword, two jets of water, and a burst of flames passed by right over her head, but the cold intensified for a moment, and my breath hitched. A veil covering the young woman's face fluttered in the slipstream of the attacks, the white, thin fabric hiding her head and hair. A black kimono, adorned with lavender and purple flowers, covered her short, slender form, her bare feet curled under her as she gently ran a cloth over a gravestone. The overly long sleeves dragged along the rough stone floor with her every move, and yet remained pristine, not an ounce of millennia's worth of dust and grime clinging to them.

"Fuck me, where did you come from!?" I couldn't blame Gary for the sentiment, my own heart beating in my chest. Only Hercules remained calm, the Electabuzz barely glancing at the girl he presumably noticed before she spoke.

"I was here long before you. In some ways, I have always been here." It was hard to tell whether her attention was on us or her task – unable to see her eyes – but she paused her cleaning to lift a long piece of paper, the surface covered in ink symbols I didn't recognise, and hung it over the stone. "My name is Miko. I am a Caretaker here." Her voice sounded young, not much older than ours, but it was hard to tell with her deliberately low tone.

I curled an eyebrow at the very Japanese name. They seemed to crop up occasionally – like Bill's last name being Masaki – but the Clans didn't use them, so I didn't understand the custom.

"Yeah, whatever. Have you seen that big-ass Haunter or a pair of cosplaying losers? I presume that's who you meant went upstairs." Miko nodded, not reacting to Gary's inflammatory words.

"To reach the next floor, follow the lights." She indicated to the floating Will-o'-Wisps, and I swore they bobbed gently up and down at her attention.

"Should you be in here by yourself? Heard the Ghost-Types come all the way down here." I asked, staring at the suspicious flames. My sixth sense was screaming that it was not just fire.

"The Old One has only been here for a short amount of time." Lighting the dual incense sticks in her hands, she waved them around for a moment, mumbling words to herself that I couldn't make out. Yet, for a second, I could swear that the mists solidified around her and the phosphorescent blue flames flared up, the unheard words being whispered from all around us as she placed the smoking incense in a small pot. "Eventually, even down here will be dangerous to outsiders, but it has not reached that point yet. The spirits down here are more used to humans, so it takes more to make them actively hostile. Beyond that, we Caretakers have little to worry about."

Gary and I exchanged looks at both her words and the creepy phenomenon she pulled off, before Gary picked the conversation back up.

"Well, if it's that dangerous, you wanna get off your ass and help?" She shook her head, still gently wiping the headstone.

"It is not our place to interfere. The Tower is home to the dead. You would ask me to care for the physical remains and chase away the spiritual ones?"

"Yes. Yeah, that sounds great." I replied, Gary nodding along with me and scowling down at the… priestess? Shrine maiden?

Finally turning from her task, Miko turned her hidden face towards us. I couldn't see her features, but there was a smile in her voice. "I am sure they feel the same way about you." Then she returned to her task, acting like we weren't there. Gary threw his arms out and huffed loudly, storming off between the gravestones in the direction Miko had indicated.

"Thanks," I said to the strange girl. She turned her head one last time, and my mind played a trick on me, a flash of red orbs – crimson, baleful, and familiar – shining through her veil.

"It is our duty to help those who cross the boundary. Pokémon or not, coming or going."

I blinked at her words while she slid along the ground to the next name-engraved stone. I went to ask her what she meant, but a loud shout of 'Peri!' alerted me to Gary being little more than a blurry shadow amongst the smoke, and I had to hurry off.

I'd get her on the way back.

Finding the staircase that led to the second floor was both easier and more complicated than I thought it would be. On one hand, Miko's advice to follow the lights was a little vague, and we ended up walking in a circle twice. It was somewhat awkward when we passed the girl, but she didn't say anything and merely kept tending the graves.

Everything looked the same. The walls were rough and uneven, hundreds of grave stones crammed together in clusters, whole lineages laid to rest side by side. The center was slightly easier to move around in, but the sameness became disorienting swiftly in the haziness.

On the other hand, once we'd thought to have Growly – who, unlike Sol, had actually had some tracking training – stop us from crossing our own trail, it didn't take that long to find the ancient, chipped steps carved into the wall that led upwards. The staircase was narrow and open to one side, forcing us to walk in a single file as the ocean of white wafted around and hid the ground from sight, but we made it eventually.

Stepping out on the second floor of the Pokémon Tower, I really wasn't sure what I expected, but if it was more mist, then I sure got it. Even though the second floor should be smaller than the first – given the somewhat conical nature of the Tower – it didn't feel like it. The sides and roof were shadowed suggestions of enclosure, nearly gone in the haze, and the graves seemed taller and even more cramped. I didn't understand the customs of what floor you were buried on, but I could've sworn there were somehow more on the second floor than the first.

Gazing into the veiled room, I cocked my head. There was something there. The lightest of noises, on the very edge of my senses. It was so low and part of the background that it took me a moment to register. It was difficult to separate into distinct sounds as they all blended together, yet I managed. Voices chanting in a choir, the faintest of laughs, ethereal whisperings.

"You hear that?" There was a bead of sweat on my neck, and I took a step closer to Herc. There was a pressure in the air that had my heart picking up, and for a second, I swore I could see a plume of vapor from my breathing.

"Hear what?" Gary peered around, hands ready to release the rest of his team. Growly whined nervously, eyes darting around and nose twitching constantly, but even she didn't seem to pick up on the muted chanting.

"Never mind, I guess." I took a deep breath and put on my big girl pants. I wasn't going to get scared off just because it was creepy. "Same thing, I suppose? Follow the lights."

"Yeah." There was an extra edge to his voice as we started creeping forwards, picking a row of hovering flames to begin with. Whatever feeling there was on the first floor was much stronger on the second, as if there was a physical pressure to the obscuring fog that increased the gravity, and it had us all paranoid.

Especially when, as we approached the chosen fire at an oddly slow pace that hardly brought us closer, I noticed something.

"It's moving."

The words had barely left my lips before a high-pitched giggle echoed in the mists. The bluebell flame flickered and morphed, splitting into two eyes with yellow pupils. The fog swirled and coalesced into a physical shape, gray fluttering cloth rising to a horn in the middle of the forehead as the leftover material wavered in an imaginary breeze.

The Shuppet laughed at us, closing its eyes and sticking out an overly large, pink tongue to blow a raspberry.

Which meant it never saw Siren's Water Gun coming before it struck it in the center of mass, sending it careening into the mists with a noise not unlike a deflating balloon.

"Fucking asshole ghosts," Gary grumbled.

"At least it wasn't full-blown aggressive yet," I retorted, frowning at our surroundings. Something was… off. The Pokémon Tower had me on edge since the very beginning, yet something changed. The light movement of the fake wind, the near inaudible whispers from all around, it had all just… stopped. "I think we need to hurry, though. They might not appreciate-"

That was as far as I got, as my words proved to be prophetic. A rush of wind and an unearthly screech were my only warning as another Shuppet, bigger than the first, came rushing out from behind a nearby tombstone. The scream gave enough warning that our teams met it with a flurry of elemental energy, but the Ghost-Type dove, slipping into the shadows cast by the Will-O'-Wisps.

The darkness undulated at the presence of the Shuppet and – much quicker than the Pokémon had been moving on its own – the shadow stretched like an eel and rushed across the ground. The Shadow Sneak snuck between the legs of everyone in its wake, emerging right in front of Siren with a ball of crackling, lavenderish-purple forming in front of its wide open maw. The Feebas' eyes grew wide, but she was too slow to get out of the way before the Shadow Ball would be launched.

But I wasn't.

THWACK!

The Ghost-Type howled as my ruined blade swung like a golf club and sent it spiraling off into the distance. Taking the opening, I wasted no time in grabbing Gary by the shoulder and dragging him along.

"What in the-how? You can't hit ghosts with a sword!"

"You said it yourself, it's barely a sword at this point. Turns out, hit enough Ghost-Types with something, it gets pretty good at it." I'd first seen it during our trip to Lavender. The Pokémon had been training while I'd been trying to see if I could salvage the sword, and an errant Shadow Ball had gotten a little too close. On instinct, I'd lashed out and bashed it away from me with the weapon. Soaking something in Distortion enough left an impression. "Now, focus! No way that's the only one."

The ethereal muttering picked back up, only faster. Angrier. Fog and shadowed graves churned aggressively as we passed, hidden eyes following us as we power walked forward. I pulled Gary sideways as he made to follow another dancing flame, saving him from being caught up in the six others that floated up to join the first now that their trap had been ruined, the hypnotic pattern they drew upping the volume of the ominous chanting.

In return, the Oak's swift reaction had a lurking gastly caught in Growly's Bite-enhanced jaws before it could jump me from a corner I'd missed. The void-esque Denial energy of the Dark-type move dug holes into the non-corporeal body of the Ghost/Poison-Type, the Distortion bound to the toxins dissolving on contact as the ghost froze, a pained grimace stuck on the disproportionately large features. The Gastly was thrown aside in our hurry before it got seriously injured, but I imagined it wouldn't hold up long under that type of attack.

As the situation got hairy enough that I released Sol myself – despite the relatively little space he had to move between the headstones – the presence of two Dark-Type moves had the Ghost-Types of the second floor staying back for the most part. Small Shadow Balls came from beyond view or behind cover, but they were pretty easily neutralized with Water Bullets or Embers detonating them prematurely.

A face of bone, shaped into an almost comical representation of a skull, emerged from under our feet as we walked over a patch of extra dark floor we hadn't noticed. The black cloak of the Duskull – with a pair of crossed bones on the back – lacked limbs, much like a Shuppet, but there was a more solid presence to the Pokémon that some of its fellow pure Ghost-Types lacked. The sole crimson eye swung between the eye sockets like a pendulum as it lunged towards me, its edges growing hazy and indistinct as purple energy leaked from it. Hercules instinctively swung a fist towards it, but the ghost passed right through the unenhanced arm of the Electabuzz and past the ring of guards that surrounded us squishy humans. It was closer to Gary, who tripped as he scrambled to back away, but completely ignored the brown-haired boy, eye fixated on me for some reason.

Why did ghosts have such a hard-on for me?

My sword was down, and it would take too long to raise. I had no choice but to turn as best as I could and brace for impact, knowing it was going to hurt.

The Duskull intensified the sustained Shadow Sneak covering it, almost upon me-

-only to get swallowed up by the red light of a PokéBall opening, the light expanding in Duskull's path. The macabre mask of the Ghost-Type twisted into a surprised expression as two massive jaws formed from the energy, and the Requiem Pokémon exploded into a cloud of Distortion as the red leaked from the blue skin, Betty's Bite obliterating the ghost as she released herself from her bonds.

I wasn't sure if Ghost-Types could actually die or how that worked, but if they could, then that Duskull was fucking gone.

Behemoth the Bagon screeched her challenge to the entire tower, ready to take on every single inhabitant. A massive Dragon Breath caused steam to explode and a howl to echo from the background as the fog contracted in an unnatural way. Betty stomped her foot eagerly and lowered her head, ready to charge headfirst into danger-

-and squawked indignantly as her PokéBall once again swallowed her up and sucked her into the containment device.

Sorry, baby, but we really did not have the time – or the strength, if I was being brutally honest with myself in the privacy of my own head – to fight through every floor. She'd get her chance when we either found the Black Fog or got trapped.

Betty's reveal seemed to have drained the last courage of the surrounding ghosts, but I didn't let it fool me, even as we finally found the staircase and made our way up. It hadn't escaped my attention that everything we'd seen so far had been stage 1 evolutions.

I highly doubted that was going to continue. No, things were going to get a lot harder if Fuji's comment about the huge Haunter we were after not liking to fight fair was true. Having to battle through an entire gauntlet before even seeing the boss sounded like an excellent way to stack the deck.

As did the Tower itself, which was definitely unfair.

On the second floor, it felt like gravity had been doubled. On the third, we stumbled briefly as it flipped, and a single step felt like it would send us soaring. I knew that wasn't actually true, but the feeling of familiarity only grew the further up we got.

"The hell is this shit?" Gary mumbled, shifting uncomfortably and rolling his shoulders.

"Distortion. So much of it that it's starting to overtake reality." I ignored the weird look he gave me, taking the lead. "We need to hurry. We don't want to stay for long." I highly doubted it would grind away and change our very nature the way Giratina's world had done – not without lingering in the tower for years – but why take the risk.

My skin tingled as the smoke brushed it, curling around and almost embracing me. A lavender hue of Distortion dyed the previously white haze, the otherworldly nature visible as we progressed further up. The sides were fully gone at that point, the graves more elaborate than ever – statues of Flying-Types with wings spread stood protectively over dozens of names, whole stacks of molten wax still lit with more ghostly blue flame. The background hum of whispers was louder than ever, with distinct tones and pitches emerging.

-oooom!

And in the distance, a muffled explosion. The fog wavered for a moment as the shockwave blasted through, before settling again nearly immediately.

But it was still enough.

"That's them!" Gary called out, Growly rushing ahead, ears standing straight as she headed towards the sound. I followed more slowly, eyes darting around. The third floor was significantly more affected by the Distortion than the earlier floors had been, and yet, there wasn't a single Ghost-Type in sight. Oh, they were definitely there. I felt them in every corner, every shadowed nook and cranny of the towering carvings of stern-faced warriors and fierce Pokémon, heard their voices in the air, and tasted them on my tongue.

But I couldn't see them. There were no attacks, no sneaky Shadow Balls or sudden Shadow Sneaks.

Nothing.

I didn't trust it for a single second.

"Peri, over here! Hey, morons, what the shit are you doing!? This ain't the place for a picnic!" Gary waved me over from up ahead, hurrying over to a group of silhouettes that huddled on the floor. I sped up, only to slow back down and eventually stop, every instinct screaming at me. Yeah, the Ground- and Rock-Types didn't look like they belonged in the Tower, so it was probably 'Mountain Man' Rick and 'Hex Maniac' Selene.

But why were they curled up on the ground, and where were their assailants?

A chunky Onix snaked around the duo and hid most of them from view, the gigantic serpent rumbling like an earthslide as it saw us coming. Standing guard around it, a brown and yellow, hedgehog-like Pokémon slid its enormous front claws together before the Sandslash smoothed down the spiky growths on its back. On the other side, bouncing back and forth on segmented legs that contracted and extended like springs, was a brown, humanoid Pokémon that seemed to lack a head, the torso extending up past the shoulders, and holding a pair of eyes with black sclera and white pupils. The Hitmonlee moved to get in our way, but before it could, a bushy head of more hair than beard popped up over the Onix's body.

Gary was almost there at that point, showing a spectacular lack of care for the large Pokémon staring him down, and I wasn't that far behind.

Which meant I saw the moment Rick laid eyes on us, and the blood drained from his already pale and sweaty face. The untrimmed beard parted, and the first nearly understandable words I'd heard came out of his mouth.

"NA, DN'T! I'S A TRP!"

It wasn't hard to get the sentiment, though.

Especially when, around us, the oddly calm and abandoned mist began swirling in circles, first slowly, then faster and faster. Black and purple bled into the smoke, completely obstructing our vision as we were caught in a tornado of Distortion. Cackles and giggles surrounded us, the large eyes of Gastly's hurling around gleefully, the clawed hands of Haunters briefly forming as they grabbed more of the fog and dragged it with them into the twister-style Ominous Wind. The chanting grew louder than ever, the red jewels of Misdreavus standing out against the dark backdrop as they joined the choir of large, indistinct figures with big hats that lurked on the other side.

We were trapped.

"GET BEHIND THE ONIX!" I screamed over the screams of both the ghosts and the howling wind, grabbing Siren and Eevee and jumping clean over the Rock-Type snake, quickly joined by Sol and Hercules. Reaching back over, I grabbed Gary by his shirt as Growly did her best to push him over and dragged him the last part of the way, throwing him down beside Rick and Selene. The hiker was crouched over the Hex Maniac with a canteen of water and a cloth, the woman lying on the floor in a fetal position. Now that I was close, I could hear nonsensical mumblings falling from her lips, her eyes darting around to things I couldn't see.

"What happened!?"

"I dn kw! Hr Pokm wnt czy an tn se js collp!"

Oh, for fucks sake, why was I stuck with these people?

"Gary, Pidgeotto!" I called out, throwing out Betty's PokéBall to the other side of Onix. The huge avian joined the Bagon as they both materialized with vicious cries, Betty's stream of dragonfire burning a smoldering trail into the congregation of Ghost-Types, and Pidgeotto briefly dispersing a side of the whirlwind with a blast of wind from his massive wings as he took to the air.

"Ey, wake up!" I kicked the downed Selene in the ribs, trying to rouse her to no avail. Cursing, I gave it up quickly and chose to work with what we had.

"Sol, Flame Wheel, Betty, Dragon Breath!" The Growlithe snorted at my words and leapt back over Rick's Onix without hesitation. Mid-air, he curled into a ball as his pelt seemed to come alive, orange flames appearing from his body and coating him in a more standard coloration for a moment, before the fire fully erupted and surrounded him in an inferno. A glowing trail was left on the floor as he bounced a couple of times before rolling towards the tornado-

-and straight through it as the wall of formless Ghost-Types and Distortion energy parted before him with a cacophony of laughter, allowing the canine to pass right through.

Said laughter was quickly silenced, though, as a Sheer Force-empowered Dragon Breath ripped them apart again. Curses and insults in languages that time had forgotten – and had never existed in the first place – spewed at Betty along with a couple of Shadow Balls exploding against her scale-covered hide, but the Titan tanked the blows with little difficulty, throwing herself mouth-first into the fray. She quickly reemerged, spitting and hacking from the toxins, but she could withstand it for a while.

Siren and Squirty had teamed up under Gary's command, the 10 days we'd spent training paying off. Squirty unleashed a wide spray of water in a cone, drenching the ghosts for a moment, before an equally wide blast of Ice-Type energy froze them whole. It wasn't a proper Icy Wind, as Siren still couldn't pull that off even with Vulpix's help, but her experience with temperature was enough.

"Herc, Thunder Gloves! Eevee, back him up!"

The Electabuzz whirred in agreement and pounded his fists together, sparks springing between them as he joined the rest on the other side of the Onix barrier. Lightning jumped up and down his forearms as he held them up and focused, dual Thunder Punches igniting. His tail swung side-to-side with cracks! of thunder as he stepped forward and started swinging, the cloud spasming and sparking as his hands carved through it in a flurry. Plumes of smoke struck out at him, trying to force him back towards the rest of us, but a Shockwave had them retreating in pain. The Thunder Punches faded for a moment, the charge spent on the ranged move, but he swiftly got them back up.

It was far from perfect. He still couldn't hold it while using any other move, not just Electric-Type, so Quick Attack was out of the question for now.

However, evolution had brought more than just larger electric reserves.

Hercules almost blurred with speed in the same way Growly did, hands a flurry of sparks as a barrage was sent and landed in a heartbeat before he footworked himself out of the way of the returning attack.

My heart swelled for my boy. I hadn't known him for long, yet he had come so far. I knew better than to say it out loud, but he could make a decent argument for being my strongest.

Speaking of coming a long way. As good as Hercules was, there was still a long way to go before we were anything close to perfect. A strategic retreat had the Electabuzz following forward into a trap that saw the miasma surround him on all sides, pouring down on him like the Red Sea collapsing on the Egyptians. Lifting his arms to block, Herc found he didn't need to as a swirling ball of Distortion tore through the incoming waves, making them flinch and scream out in pain as the very core of their beings was threatened. Pulling back to the greater whole, it wasn't fast enough to prevent Eevee from focusing twice more, another two Shadow Balls punching holes in the mass.

The Ghost-Type moves were stronger than usual, I noted. The Normal-Type could reliably pull off the move, but some of the surrounding Distortion got pulled in when she formed the attack.

It wasn't that different from how the Ghost-Types had managed the tornado we were stuck in. Using the energy around us to power moves they couldn't pull off alone.

Good to know for when we got out of there.

My fingers touched Vulpix's ball before I removed them. It was tempting, but not only was I not super comfortable directing the Ice/Fairy-Type in battle, but she also wasn't that strong quite yet. Plus, I thought as I eyed the blackish-purple miasma that made up much of the tornado, Poison would rip through her in an instant.

No, shit would really need to be desperate for that.

Though it was getting there.

There were too many of them. For every one we took out – and we'd done enough damage for 50 ghosts at that point – three more took their place, seeming to spawn from the Distortion that hung so heavily over the Tower. At the rate things were going, we'd run out of steam long before they did, even without the poison slowly grinding us down.

So we had to switch strategies. While we were there to fight the Black Fog, retreating to the second, or even first floor, for a moment to regroup and plan might not have been a bad idea.

It was clear that we'd underestimated the Pokémon Tower. How the hell could so many Ghost-Types just be allowed to hang around?

Or was it because of the Black Fog?

"On my mark," I had to still speak pretty loudly to be heard over the chaos, but I tried not to let the ghosts listen in, if they cared enough to, "we're all going to attack the same spot, where Betty is. When there's a hole, we run through and get to the stairs, alright?" I could see Gary's face pinch up and his teeth grinding together at the idea of leaving before we did what we came to do. "Once we get downstairs, we can regroup and replan, fuck, call in some reinforcements, maybe. Gary, this ain't doable like this!" For a moment, I was afraid I wasn't going to get through to him – a feeling I understood – but thankfully, he swallowed his emotions and nodded swiftly.

"Fine!"

"Good!" I sighed as Rick lifted Selene over his shoulders, getting ready to move. "On me. One."

I scanned the swirling darkness as it was ripped into by streams of elemental power and blurring fists of energy.

"Two."

Hitmonlee's hands devoured the light like a pair of black holes as they rent the ghosts apart to great success, Herc teaming up with the Fighting-Type to push deeper than either could alone, though they made sure to never get stuck on the other side. A ring of fire surrounded us as Sol gained enough speed that he couldn't simply be dodged. The flames lingered for a moment as I got his attention and made him stop in front of me, the aftereffects hiding us from view for a brief moment.

"NOW!

"FLAMETHROWER!""ICE BEAM!""SHOCKWAVE!""RCK BRRG! IRN TL!"

I had to shield my eyes as the world lit up with white, a torrent of energy rippling through the air as Onix roared and swung its glowing tail through the trap. The Ominus Wind dispersed for a moment under the combined force, leaving an opening for us to rush through.

"GO, GO, GO!"

We sprinted through the disoriented and injured ghosts as they tried to pull themselves back together enough to stop us. Emerging on the other side, I wanted to cheer at our success, but we weren't out of the woods yet. We still had to get to the stairs and then hope they didn't follow us down-

-wait, why was it so dark?

We slid to a halt as the path forward suddenly darkened, as if it was night time. The Mist swirled as a howling gale tore through the room, the temperature plummeting. The ghosts' screams behind us quieted as the very air itself froze.

Sweat ran down my face as I slowly looked up and up, gulping.

Uh-oh.

Covering the whole horizon, I wouldn't have known that the mass of void-black was a Haunter if I hadn't been told. Blood-red eyes as large as my whole body wavered in and out of reality, arms the size of trees tipped with hands littered with holes. Needle-like teeth as long as people bared in a grotesque smile as the Black Fog hung over us.

There was an air to Ghost-Types that other Types, except for maybe Dark, lacked. A certain sense of wrongness, of something twisted. There was a reason they had a spotted reputation, and it wasn't just because their exact relation to actual ghosts of the departed was unknown. There was something about the inhabitants of the Distorted Realm that simply made humans uneasy, that raised the hairs on the back of their neck and made them uncomfortable. A surety that the being before you was fundamentally 'other'.

Staring into the Black Fog's eyes as the massive ghost leered down at us, I think it was the first time I had seen genuine, actual malice in a ghost.

Ghost-Types wanted to scare you, to affect. They fed on it, the emotion, needed it like humans required air.

The Black Fog would gladly starve. It wasn't about survival, not really. The Haunter would gladly light the world on fire and laugh at the flames.

It was about hate.

For the Black Fog hated every single one of them for daring to exist. It wanted them gone and the whole world with it.

It had spent decades, if not much longer, scouring the sickly solid realm it had found, and it would not rest until everything resembled its true home.

---

I wanted to fit the whole fight with the Black Fog into this chapter, but I had too much fun with the Tower, plus I'm sick, so I'll wrap it up next time. Probably.

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

 

[ApiLol123123]

Thanks for the chapter, eager to read the next one!!

 

[HankPankylol]

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

---

Deep, thunderous chuckles echoed through the misty third floor of the Pokémon Tower. A monstrous shadow hung over us, a mass of toxin and darkness in the imitation of a Haunter, saliva dripping from the Black Fog's person-sized tongue as it licked its bared teeth hungrily. Hate and sadistic pleasure radiated off the monster like a stench, the air visibly twisting and warping with the strength of the Distortion leaking from it.

I didn't dare take my eyes off of it, but I could feel the other, lesser Ghost-Types, starting to recover from the combined attack we'd used to break out of the Distortion tornado. The unharmed ones – stronger Pokémon lingering in the fog as their subordinates wore us down – gathered around us in a loose circle, keeping a wide distance from their boss, yet close enough to cut us off.

Well, shit.

"So you're the bitch that's keeping me from using the Tower!" Gary didn't seem to share my apprehension, taking a step forward confidently, and speaking louder to be heard over the sizzling of the floor in front of him as the spit gnawed through the old stone like a Muk. "Well, get out of my way, or I'll kick your ass back to wherever cowards like you hide when strong people come around!"

I smirked despite myself at the words. The Black Fog, on the other hand, narrowed its eyes at the disrespect and drew back a little, the void-esque miasma coalescing to solidify the Haunter further, a deafening shriek blowing the surrounding mist into a frenzy. My companions covered their ears with shouts, but I managed to fight through the wave of head-splitting pain and nausea with difficulty.

Guess we were doing it, then.

"BLAST IT!"

Icy beams punched through the Black Fog, rocks the size of my entire body wrenched from the ground and hurled at the ghost, a blinding lance of electricity following close behind.

All of it passed through the humongous Haunter with no effect; the rocks too physical to harm it, and the elemental attacks were too narrow to be more than mosquito bites.

The rest was another story.

The ancient terror hissed loudly, making the other ghosts flinch, as its toxins boiled and evaporated under the dual Flamethrowers and forceful Dragon Breath. Holes opened up in the miasma, allowing the rest of the flames to pass through harmlessly, but the heat definitely bothered it. The enormous eyes gazed on our group, locking on something in the back. With a growl more suited for a Mightyena, the Black Fog thrust its arms out to the side.

My eyes widened as the flowing limbs disappeared into the fog, vanishing up to the elbows. Following its gaze, I turned around to try to warn the others.

Too late.

Eevee and Clefairy, meanwhile, had started gathering the necessary Distortion for Shadow Balls, the crackling orbs of purple and black forming in front of them. Eevee's knack for ranged attacks had shown itself when learning the Ghost-Type attack, and hers was clearly bigger.

That might've been why the Black Fog's right arm reformed behind the Normal-Type first, massive fist slamming into the fox and sending her flying my way. The air was knocked out of my lungs as I caught her, stumbling and falling to the floor from the force. Unhurt, I quickly checked Eevee, finding her eyes to be closed and her chest moving unevenly. Gently feeling with my fingers, I found several broken ribs before I quickly put her in her ball and got back up.

Holy shit. That wasn't even an attack.

Back with the fight, Gary had been quick enough to use the slight delay to recall Clefairy and re-release her at his side. The tiny Fairy-Type was launching Shadow Ball after Shadow Ball at the looming horror above them, but every time the orbs got close, something happened to them. Their edges became frayed and fuzzy, their cohesion dissolving, and by the time the attacks reached the Haunter, they were little more than unfocused gusts of Distortion that barely bothered it.

Some kind of Distortion control?

Even with that, the Black Fog pulled back, a hovering nightmare as it allowed the lesser ghosts to close in and do its dirty work for it.

Coward was right. Fucker wouldn't even fight us.

Hitmonchan vanished into his ball as I watched, Sandslash's claws a blur as it tried its best to defend its Trainer from the mass of ghosts that were slowly closing in. Above them, Onix's massive maw opened, pitch-black void energy gathering. The Dark Pulse tore and ripped at the surrounding Distorion and made it flinch away like an animal, an inaudible scream that I could taste rippling through the third floor of the Pokémon Tower.

A huge fist formed under the Rock-Type and swung up in an uppercut, forcing Onix's mouth to slam shut and the Dark Pulse to dissipate. Cracks spread through Onix's jaw, pebbles raining down on those covering under its massive bulk as it swayed drunkenly. For a moment, I feared I was about to watch the large Pokémon crush its teammate and Trainer, but unlike Eevee, it managed to shake it off and stay up.

My ruined sword swung left and right, Gastly and Shuppet feigning attacks only to pull back before I could get them. Two grabbed the blade mid-swing and forced me to put my whole weight behind it, or lose it. A pair of Water Bullets from the nearby Siren saved my weapon, but the distraction was enough for a pair of Haunters to swirl together and surround the Water-Type. I recalled her fast, but didn't dare put her back out without knowing how much she ended up breathing in, Raticate's fate clear in my mind.

It took less than a minute before the sword was wrenched from my grip anyway and thrown into the mist.

Things were going real bad.

"GARY, PIDGEOTTO! TWISTER!"

He didn't question me, yelling up at his Pidgeotto as it hurled by, closely pursued by a cloud of Ghost-Types. Under normal circumstances, the massive Flying-Type would've out-flown the immaterial Pokémon, even with its bulk, but not only was it restricted by the size of the room – which, despite the Ghost-Types best efforts, wasn't actually endless – everywhere the bird went, a new group of taunting spirits awaited it.

Leaving him to wrangle the bird, I did my best to corral Sol, Betty, and Growly together in roughly the same area, without screwing up the whole battle. We were getting pushed closer and closer together as the ghosts circled, and I could see them getting ready to pull that tornado shit again.

Well, two could play that game.

Or four.

"PERI!"

Trusting him to have pulled it off, I waited until the back of my hair started swaying in the sudden wind before yelling out my command.

"FLAMETHROWER!"

The mist among the ghosts before me and right in the Black Fog's face began moving while the three Pokémon inhaled. Swiftly, the movement became faster and faster, swirling around in circles. The huge Haunter made to pull further back, but got caught up in the tornado that spawned under it, a massive, towering twister springing into existence and dragging dozens of howling Ghost-Types into its tearing winds. The Black Fog still didn't seem to take any actual damage, but it was held in place for a second.

More than enough for three streams of orange flame to streak across the distance and hit the whipping storm.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

The Pokémon Tower shook as the Twister exploded, a tremendous pillar of billowing flames roaring to life as the Dragon-Type enhanced tornado lit up like a bonfire. The mist that hung so heavily was blown back by the shockwave, a whole horde of ghosts losing their physical shapes under the force and heat. The cold air was eradicated and became uncomfortably hot, forcing me to avert my face from the conflagration. A shrieking scream filled the air, the fiery tornado flailing and moving as the Black Fog fought to escape. The column bulged oddly before exploding once more, a shower of sparks hanging in the air for a moment before they were snuffed out as the fog came rushing back in, a smoke cloud hanging in the air.

A shiver went down my spine as the temperature dropped again, plummeting past what it had been before, my breath visible as a vast shadow moved in the smoke.

The Black Fog was shaking as it reappeared, patches of toxins whipped clean in a different way than its previous semi-coporalism. Steam rose from its fraying form and plumed out of its gaping mouth. Titanic red eyes were glazed over as it continued to shake, pupils so shrunken they might as well have been completely gone.

It didn't take the rest of the Ghost-Types going still for me to realise that it wasn't shaking from fear.

It was rage.

The two Growlithe collapsed to the floor from the ungodly, sickening howl that left the Black Fog, multiple times stronger than the earlier Screech. Betty was still standing, but only for a moment as the immense maw opened further, jaw literally touching the floor, and an ocean of purple winds poured forth in a torrent. I had only a moment to see it before my vision was obscured by blue scales, Betty shielding me from the Ominous Wind with her body. Distortion tore at my clothes and screamed in my ears as it rushed past, before the tidal wave finally ended.

Looking up, my heart dropped to my stomach at the closed eyes and open mouth of Betty above me. It was the first time I had ever seen the Bagon unconscious, and the sight shook me more than I'd have thought.

Recalling her, she was quickly followed by Sol when I saw the similarly unconscious Growlithe – I presumed that Growly being gone meant that Gary had already done the same.

Panting, I took stock of the situation. On the plus side, the other Ghost-Types had been blown clear as well, and judging by the lingering patches of thick Distortion, many of them had been 'killed' or whatever the fuck happened to ghosts. We were still outnumbered 100-to-1, but progress was progress.

Unfortunately, I couldn't see Squirty anywhere, so the Wartortle was probably down. Taking the unexpected opportunity, I opened Siren's ball to see if she could still fight, and then returned her instantly when I saw the purple lips and dull scales.

I fucking hated poison so much.

That left us with Hercules, Graveler, Clefairy, Pidgeotto, Sandslash, and Onix. Six out of the 14 we started with. Turning to Rick in order to see if his Onix could maybe pull off another Dark Pulse, my already aching heart stopped for a moment.

"Rick? RICK!"

The heavyset man didn't respond, lying on the floor in a crumbled heap. Blood leaked from under his long hair, and what I could see of his face was pale under the beard. Sandslash stood over him, and that was all I had time to see before Onix curled around the two protectively, tightening its massive body into a gapless shield and taking them out of the fight at the same time.

Leaving us down to four out of 14.

Fuck me.

"NO!"

Swinging my head around, I cursed like a sailor when I saw the small pink Pokémon surrounded by Ghost-Types as it toppled over, the Clefairy going down to the part Poison-Types around it.

That would've been bad enough, but when the red beam of a PokéBall was blocked by a Duskull, I knew it was about to get a lot worse.

"GARY, DON'T!" My words fell on deaf ears, the boy sprinting into the mass of miasma with a wild look in his eyes, throwing himself over Clefairy and covering the Fairy-Type with his body. The surrounding Gastly and Haunter cackled at their new toy, jabbing the boy with poisonous limbs. Purple marks spread across his pale skin as the twisted gases did their work, and I knew the only reason he didn't die in the first few seconds was that they weren't done tormenting him.

"PROTECT HIM!" I called out to anybody who could hear, to almost no response. Onix was an unmoving pile of rocks, curled around Mountain Man Rick, Selene, and Rick's Sandslash. A few Misdreavus and a Mismagius hovered around them, pain and fear-inducing whispers hammering the sedimentary snake.

Hercules and Graveler were back to back, six pairs of hands smashing through ghost after ghost, clouds of Distortion left in their wake.

For all the good that did.

The ones disturbed by Herc's Thunder Punches, at least, were forced to retreat for a bit to recover; however, Graveler might as well not have bothered for all that its attacks did. A loud fart noise left the wagging tongue of a particularly large Gastly, one of the Rock-Type's fists sticking through half its face, before it was sent screaming into the mist by a Shockwave from Herc that bought them a second before a new horde was upon them

Up above, Pidgeotto was forced to abandon its attacks, swerving and dogging frantically as its pursuers grew closer and closer, black and purple marking more and more of its body as it got slower and slower.

Alright, Peri, going to have to do it yourself.

I made it all of seven steps before I was yanked to a stop by something grabbing hold of my hand from behind. Whirling around, I was met by a crooked rip in black fabric shaped like a grin, bared teeth yellow, a zipper hanging from the corner of the giant mouth. Above, crimson eyes with a black slit for a pupil shone gleefully as I tried to tear my fingers out of its grasp to little success.

Floating backwards, the Banette didn't seem to even notice my struggles as it dragged me away from the others and further into the swirling mass of ghosts surrounding us.

I'd had pretty good luck throwing down with Pokémon, but it was the first time I was on my own against a fully evolved one, and the difference was stark. Any thoughts in the back of my head that I was getting close to people like Bruno vanished when the pure Ghost-Type yawned mockingly, hiding its mouth with one hand while still pulling me along with the other.

It was like trying to stop a train with my hands.

Seeing no other option, I stopped resisting and jumped at the Banette, at least catching the bastard by surprise as its eyes widened before my forehead hit it between the eyes in a headbutt.

The Banette seemed stunned for a moment as my skull sank about an inch into its own before rebounding without doing any damage. Our eyes met before it grinned even wider and reared its head back as I'd done.

CRACK!

My nose shattered in an explosion of blood against the suddenly extremely hard face of the Banette, my vision swimming as I stumbled back. I had a brief moment to hear the cackle before it headbutted me again, sending me to the ground.

CRACK!

Blood poured down my face and roared in my ears. Copper stained my tongue as I bared my teeth in disbelief and sheer fucking rage, untrained, useless fucking aura rippling through my body while I bashed my forehead into the floor in frustration.

Again.

It was happening again. Every godamn time I did anything, anytime I thought I was moving forward or getting stronger, something came along to kick my teeth in.

Kurt.

Proton.

The Lab.

Mt. Moon.

The S.S. Anne.

I was so tired of getting kicked around. So unbelievably, bone-deep, fucking done with having to just watch as others around me got hurt for me or because of my actions.

I had to do better. I had to protect them.

I would protect them!

They placed their trust in me, and if I had to wade through poison and Distortion until all my flesh melted off to repay that loyalty, then so be it!

My fingers graced something on the floor, something cylindrical. A long tendril of some sort wrapped around my forearm, but I didn't care. There was nothing but mindless emotion in my mind as I grasped it and whipped around, screaming as I swung the long stick-thing at the Banette, nothing but a primal drive to protect the little family I'd started building for myself.

The ghost screamed in pain as its doll body was carved open, a glowing purple line bisecting the Ghost-Type across the middle. Energy rushed from the wound; the physical body the Banette needed to stay in the physical realm tore and leaked its true essence. Clawed hands tried to pull the rip closed, but were unable to do anything as the deep purple object in my hands came back around to slice open its neck.

With the sound of air leaving a balloon, the Banette threw itself backwards to avoid a third cut, almost black energy lingering in the air like blood in the water as it fled the fight entirely.

Panting and swaying, exhausted and almost certainly slightly concussed, I looked down at my hands as the purple left the object. Purple eyes reflected back at me from the blank metal, a double-sided blade resting in my hands. The bottom of the sword widened into a thick, golden guard with a slit in the middle and a golden handle. Attached to that handle was a long blue ribbon that widened towards the end and was currently wrapped around my forearm, anchoring the blade to my arm.

As if it felt my gaze, the slit in the middle of the guard moved slightly and opened, a bright blue eyeball with a black, slit pupil looking up at me. We stared at each other for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, something lightly brushing against me in a non-physical sense I usually associated with Psychics, before the Honedge closed its eye again and rested easily in my palm.

I stared down at the sword-shaped Pokémon, feeling the surprisingly light weight and incredible balance of the Steel/Ghost-Type.

I-wha-...

Whatever. It was something, and that was what I needed in that moment. The rest could come later.

As soon as I held it up against the ghosts that had been watching me, black-purple Distortion leaked from the Honedge and coated the blade in a Shadow Claw. Eyes blinking rapidly, covered in blood, and lit up by the unearthly light, I was sure I looked quite insane, but there was still a deep sense of satisfaction when the ghosts backed up a little.

It was almost as good as when the first Shuppet fell apart under Honedge's blade.

Carving through them, it soon became more me chasing them than the opposite as the weaker Ghost-Types fled in the face of something that could actually hurt them. The slower ones were sliced apart, Gastly screaming as they imploded with a pop!, the whines of Misdrevus ringing in my ears as they dissolved. If they had ganged up on me, I was sure they could've killed me quite easily, but the inhabitants of the Pokémon Tower – or at least the Black Fog's subordinates – took after their leader.

As soon as they were faced with something that could actually hurt them, they turned into cowards and fled with their tails between their legs.

Oh, how I longed to chase each and every one of them down. I wished I could spend hours hunting them and showing them what happened when you fucked with me and mine, introduce them to Betty in a one-on-one setting.

But I had different priorities. Dripping with sweat that threatened to freeze on my skin, I made it to Onix's massive bulk, where Herc and Graveler had been forced as well. Shaking off the hands that tried to pull me behind them, I charged on, swinging Honedge around like a maniac to clear them away from Gary. The prone boy was in remarkably good shape for how many Pokémon he'd been surrounded by, but as he recalled Clefairy and Hercules and Graveler covered our retreat back to Onix, I knew that was on purpose.

The grunts didn't have permission to kill us.

Sharp clacks atop the still Rock-Type heralded Pidgeotto being left alone as well and landing atop Onix, the massive avian bowing over in exhaustion. I hadn't known birds could sweat, but liquid dripped from soaked feathers, the bulky Flying-Type having been forced to stay on the move since the battle began. Herc and Graveler were doing better, stamina beasts that they were, but even then, it had been a long battle.

And it wasn't over.

The ghosts kept their distance, swirling around as a vast shadow reformed above them. The horde parted as the Black Fog, smaller and much more real than I'd ever seen it. It still towered over us, each tooth in its mocking grin longer than my arm, but it was a solid black, having forced its miasma together as a normal Haunter would.

I was sure it made it more vulnerable, but we were in no position to take advantage of it, and I imagined it also made it a lot more dangerous.

Plus, how'd you eat without being physical?

It approached slowly, casually, bobbing side-to-side in a way that reminded me of a human skipping. Fuck, it even did a twirl as it came to a halt before us, the remaining Ghost-Types cheering at the little performance, though it was far from as loud as they had been in the beginning. The Black Fog seemed to pick up on that as well, twisting its head 180 degrees without moving its body to glare at the crowd, getting a much louder response that made it turn back around with a pleased expression.

What a drama queen. It really, really sucked that the fuck would be the one to kill me. Why couldn't it have been something cool?

At least it wasn't Proton. I would've killed myself if that's how I died.

Taking a deep breath, I concentrated as best as I could and held up Honedge point first towards the Haunter, Hercules on my left, and Graveler on my right. The massive ghost held up its hands and shook in faux fear to another round of laughter, the spectators having learned their lesson and dialing the volume to eleven.

I briefly thought about giving Honedge to Herc, as the Electabuzz was a lot faster and stronger than me, but the ribbon around my arm tightened at the thought, and I abandoned the idea. I had a vague idea of where the ghost sword had come from, and if it wanted to go down in my hands, so be it. It was highly unlikely it would change much anyway,

Apparently finally having had enough of grandstanding, the Black Fog suddenly surged forward, jaws stretching grotesquely to swallow all three of us whole. Stepping forwards I judged the distance and swung Honedge to hit it before it hit us. Glowing rocks and a Thunder Shock sped past, but even though they actually managed to do damage that time, the Black Fog tanked through it and came down upon us.

Might as well get one more in.

The edge of the sword passed inched from the giant mouth, and I wanted to close my eyes in disappointment, having wiffed the last opportunity I'd ever have.

Until I noticed the reason I'd missed: the Black Fog had stopped moving.

The stench of rot and toxic waste blew in my face as the cavernous maw hung open over me, quivering as the Haunter tried to surge the last bit forward and swallow us up. Its eyes darted around to look for the source of its sudden immobility, and I followed its gaze down its huge body to its tail. Somehow, the ending appendage had sunk into the ground, a large pool of black spreading across the floor and holding the old nightmare in place.

"Oho. Seems I finally got you, coward. Just needed some tasty bait."

The Black Fog's already huge eyes bulged ridiculously as the hoarse voice of an older woman echoed through the mist.

The spectating ghosts reacted much worse.

Screams and shrieks, almost as loud as the fire tornado from earlier, filled the air as over a hundred Ghost-Types suddenly ran for their lives. They dove into every shadow available, hid behind whatever tombstones hadn't been knocked over by the battle, and those who were too slow for that clasped their hands over their eyes and lay down on the floor in what I could only call the ghost version of fetal position.

The sharp crack of a cane on stone slowly grew louder as silhouettes emerged from the fog.

"Tch, look at the mess you've made, you old bastard. Who do you think is gonna clean this up, huh? That's very unkind of you, making so much work for my girls."

A somewhat hunched figure walked in front of the group, pale wooden cane banging against the floor. Whitish blonde hair crowned her head, a trio of ghostly blue Will-O'-Wisps circling above like a halo and casting deep shadows over her wrinkly face. A lavender dress clad her body as she slowly approached, with a large gem in the neckline and a white, apron-esque piece of clothing over it.

Under and behind her, her shadow stretched much too far, a titanic void-like hole in reality that undulated unnervingly.

On either side of the too-dark shadow walked a line of five other women, 10 in total. I had to rub my eyes at what I was seeing, but the sight remained the same. All 10 of them were wearing the exact same black kimono with lavender and purple flower print, a black veil hiding their faces. All of them were the same height and walked at the exact same speed in an eerie display.

What in the world? Were they clones of Mito? Was Mito a clone? Was that the old lady I saw on the porch in Lavender?

My head hurt, and not just from the broken nose.

"Seems only fair if I'm terribly unkind to you as well, doesn't it?" The old woman cackled, completely immune to the glare from the monstrous Haunter.

The Black Fog didn't take well to the comment, swinging a massive arm towards her with a howl. I jerked forwards instinctively as she didn't move, sure I was about to see her smeared across the tiles.

Instead, a swirling hole of voidish purple opened up before her and swallowed the fist all the way up to the wrist. Reality itself shuddered around the 'portal', the air vibrating with the amount of Distortion packed into the technique.

The Black Fog screamed as it tried to rip itself free, its other hand flailing around before it, too, was caught in a hole in reality. Trapped by all three limbs, the ancient horror that had terrified Lavender and beyond for decades – centuries, I was starting to believe – was completely stuck, unable to move. The half-Ghost-Type mist vibrated with its shrieks of fury, its jaw falling as it prepared its massive Ominous Wind-

-part of the woman's shadow darted forwards, a colossal hand of black reaching up and grabbing the Black Fog by the jaw and slamming it shut. The huge eyes widened as Distortion exploded from where its nostrils should be, the Haunter shaking as its own attack ran wild inside itself and wrecked its body.

"Now now, none of that." The woman was still moving forwards, the black-clad girls following behind her loyally. "How many years have we been doing this? Feels like a lifetime. It's almost sad, you know. This being the end." The woman reached into the pocket of her apron and retrieved an UltraBall, the black and yellow ball shining in the reflected light of her ghostly crown. For the first time, I saw fear enter the Black Fog's eyes as it shook and fought even harder to escape its bonds. "Almost, anyway. Don't you worry, I'll take good care of you. Eventually. Maybe. Got some frustrations to work out. I'm sure you understand." Her chuckles had a multi-layered echo, each more twisted and distorted than the last.

Straining as hard as it could, the Black Fog's eyes rolled around frantically as the woman came to a stop right in front of it. Scowling down at her, the roar it let out did little more than blow her hair back as she yawned mockingly.

Suddenly, something else glinted in the enormous blood-colored eyes. It glared at the woman and the girls behind her, then at Gary and me, as it went completely still. A wet gurgling noise of disgust came from deep in its non-solid chest as said breast began expanding, growing larger and larger as the hulking Haunter inflated, still glaring at us with nothing but hatred.

My eyes widened as I realised what was going on.

It was going to blow itself up rather than be captured.

It would sooner die than work with a human.

"So that's how it is, huh?" The previous levity had left the old woman's voice, and I couldn't identify what had replaced it. "Didn't think you had it in you. Good for you, I guess. Spare yourself a lot of pain."

Her shadow stretched again, crimson eyes not unlike the Fog's own dotting the black as it rose in a bubble of semi-translucent Distortion. I could see the Fog through the screen as it continued to grow, soon pressing against the strange Ghost-Type Protect – or whatever it was. All the while, its eyes remained on the woman, not an ounce of hesitation or fear in there, not a single thing to be found other than hatred and disdain.

I had to agree with the woman.

I didn't think The Black Fog was capable of suicide.

I could almost respect it.

Boom!

The explosion was muffled, nothing more than a thump announcing the end of the legendary Black Fog. The oily-black shield expanded with the force briefly before imploding completely, swallowing whatever remains the Haunter left behind with a wet burping sound.

Snorting, the old woman turned to look at us, her pinkish, almost red eyes peering down at us mockingly.

"Awww, did the big ghost scare you? Don't you worry, Aunty Agatha brought plenty of fresh diapers."

Agatha, Ghost Mistress of the Indigo Elite Four, simply cackled again at the glare I gave her, sounding way too much like the Black Fog for my taste.

How illegal was punching Elite Four members?

---

This illness is kicking my ass, and I'm not super pleased with this chapter, but oh well.

Honedge has been born, fun stuff.

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

A honedge ? How many Rare pokemon does that make now ? Agatha is very punch-able. yes.

 

[Pandaemonium04]

That's his former sword right? A sword thats been part of much death and violence that eventually gained an ability to attack the incorporeal which was further Seeped in a distortion cloud, it makes sense that it returned as a honedge. Plus it seems very comfortable in Peris hand, despite lore wise ur should have killed peri. Perhaps the reason why modern honedge kill anyone that try to wield them is cause they're all former swords with history and they refuse to be touched by anyone besides their true master-which unfortunately means that by the time a honedge forms, their wielder is already dead.

Maybe there's Kalosian knight families where Honedge are passed from one master to their child where only the particular families are allowed to wield them. Could be a cool worldbuilding aspect

 

[ApiLol123123]

Thanks for the chapter, eager to read the next one!!

 

[HankPankylol]

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

Sorry for the delay, only just got home.

---

Gazing out over the strewn rubble from the smashed gravestones, the pools of toxic miasma feebly struggling to pull themselves together, and our exhausted, injured group, Agatha of the Elite Four clicked her tongue idly while tapping her cane to the same beat.

"All in all, not bad at all. Far better than I was prepared for to get that ancient bastard. Why, everybody's alive! Will miracles never cease?"

"No thanks to you!" It would probably be smarter to keep my mouth shut, but the emotional whiplash was still catching up to me, never mind everybody except Hercules being unconscious.

Well, plus the Honedge wrapped around my arm, but I still had to figure that out.

"I very much disagree. In fact, I'd say you're alive because of me. You were warned about going inside, weren't you? You should be on your knees, thanking me for my graciousness. " She didn't even bother looking at me, instead glancing over her shoulder to the rows of veiled girls with a glare. "Well? Don't just stand there, get to it! Do you need me to wipe your bottom as well?"

In a flurry of dark cloth, we were suddenly surrounded by the kimonoed girls as their own Ghost-Types made their appearance, each of the grave tenders accompanied by at least one Misdreavus and a Gastly.

"If you would be so kind as to release your Pokémon, good sir," I squinted at the one that stopped by me, trying to peer through her facial covering. Next to me, Hercules held out his hands without issue – purple and black veins pulsing angrily against the irritated skin, fur mostly dissolved – letting the Gastly disperse into a toxic cloud that swirled around his poisoned appendages while the Misdreavus chanted softly.

"Mito? That you?" I questioned, then released the rest of my team, once I saw that even Gary did as asked without making a fuss. The Pokémon attending Herc immediately switched targets to Siren upon seeing her, a thin line of toxic blood drawn from her mouth and into the Gastly as her scales shone dull, Distortion being pulled from her by the other ghost.

"No, it is not. My name is Miko, good sir." The girl had me questioning my own sanity as I could've sworn she sounded just like the one from earlier. Maybe I got the name wrong?

"Do you have, like, a twin or something?"

"We are all brothers and sisters here." I heard the smile in the nonsensical answer and felt my eyebrow twitch. I'd had just about enough of the pretentious mystery garbage they insisted on in Lavender.

Before I could show my growing displeasure, the Lavender native was unknowingly saved by Agatha.

"Don't bother, child, they won't tell you. They have a long tradition of not answering anything in a straight manner. Think it adds to the atmosphere." As she was talking, the old woman hobbled over to the curled-up Onix. "Up you get, you big lump." Prodding it a couple of times, she got no answer.

Lifting her cane, she started banging it against the Rock-Type with considerable force. "OI, GET OUT HERE, YOU LAZY BASTARDS! I'VE FIXED YOUR MESS ALREADY, ENOUGH HIDING!"

Still nothing. A twitch developed in Agatha's left eye.

"Ignore me, will you. Show them why it's a bad idea to ignore Mommy, won't you, sweetie?"

I cringed slightly at the sudden sugar-sweet voice the Wraith of Kanto – as I'd heard her addressed – even as her shadow parted and a section darted around Rick's Onix. Expanding, the wide-brimmed hat of a Mismagius popped out, mouth open much wider than should be possible.

I had just enough time for my eyes to dilate and my hands to clamp over my ears before a Screech that rivaled the Black Fog's ripped through the air, only much more concentrated. A cone of rippling air vibrations blasted straight into Onix's face, and whatever organs it had that passed for ears, its eyes leaping open instantly.

"OOOOOOOOOONN!" The massive Pokémon cried out, flinching away so violently that it smashed its head into the floor on the opposite side, unfolding in the process. In the middle, a bleary-eyed Mountain Man Rick fell over, having tried to stand up after his sudden awaking, and almost landed back on the Unconscious Hex Maniac Selene.

"Have a nice nap?" Agatha mocked as another pair of Caretakers rushed over to the last injured members of our party. "You were told to wait until the Fog had been handled. The sentiment is… nice, I suppose, but graves are for the living. The dead don't care, and throwing your life away is a poor way to show your appreciation."

Rick mumbled something in response that I couldn't hear – or be able to understand even if I could make it out – and reached into the side pocket of his backpack. I blinked in surprise when his hand returned, clutching a black PokéBall, Gary stiffening beside me.

Mr. Fuji's words returned to me about the two others besides Gary and me who were going in.

One for money and one for mourning.

Now I felt bad for laughing at the guy.

"Amateurs," the Ghost Mistress snorted, moving on and poking the downed l Selene non-too-gently with her cane, "always thinking they know best. I warned the silly girl, but did she listen? Of course not, bah! Arrogance of youth, I tell you."

Rick looked over at me and pointed to himself in silent question, making me shrug in response. She might just have been talking to herself.

"Whatever. All's well that ends well, or whatever you kids say." Agatha shrugged, turning back to the rest of us. "The girls will get your Pokémon back on their feet and show you to an empty grave so you can do your business. Afterwards, I highly suggest you leave my tower before the little ones take your continued presence as an invitation to a round two."

I nodded despite the many, many questions I had about the Pokémon Tower, recognizing that it wasn't the time. Instead, I moved to sit down next to Gary, only for a cane between my shoulders to force me back up.

"Are you burying someone?" I didn't even get a chance to respond before she continued. "Didn't think so. Saying goodbye is a private event. Have some respect."

I instinctively wanted to protest, but Gary's face caught my eye at the last moment. Turning to look, he quickly averted his own gaze, but I got the message.

"Fine," I did my best to sound as neutral as possible. I understood. It kind of hurt a little, but I got it. "I'll… wait outside, I suppose."

"You can help an old woman up the stairs, more like. I need to check the upper floors, and my knees aren't what they used to be." Even the tenders of the Pokémon Tower looked at the officially second strongest Trainer in Kanto in disbelief. "We can talk about that thing on your arm on the way. Leave your PokéBalls here; the girls will bring them to you after."

"No fucking shot." The words left my mouth before I even had a chance to think about it, but I stood by them. While tips on Ghost-Types from a Ghost-Type Master sounded awesome, there was no way I was leaving the rest of my team alone for it.

I'd done… okay, figuring things out for myself up to that point, thank you very much.

"Oh?" Hobbling over to me, one of Agatha's pink eyes glinted vermillion while the other matched the ethereal blue of the Will-O'-Wisps above her. The clack of her cane echoed deeply as she planted it in front of her, her seemingly frail body appearing to loom over me despite my height advantage. My breath was visible, cold sweat gathering on the back of my neck. The earlier feeling of being watched returned with a vengeance as the fog seemingly closed in on me. I gulped, feeling pinpricks on my Adam's apple, like sharp canines grazing my flesh. "Do you think I'd need to separate you from your Pokémon if I had ill intentions?" Bone white flashes between her purple lips, needle-like teeth poking through.

I gritted my teeth, but not even I could delude myself into believing the answer was anything other than the truth. The Black Fog had been kicking our asses basically without effort, and the Elite Four member treated the Haunter like a kid.

"... no."

"Good, then shut up and carry my bag."

I grunted in surprise as her shadow once more moved, a large, lavender handbag being launched out with a comical spitting noise and hitting me in the chest. The owner of said bag had already started shuffling into the mist without waiting for me.

Struggling with myself, it was ultimately the Honedge wrapped around me that decided for me. As much as I genuinely, truly hated leaving my team behind, getting tips on an unfamiliar Type – especially one as notoriously difficult, if not outright dangerous as Ghost-Type – from one of the greatest known Masters in the Region, if not the world, had to take precedent.

Turning to Hercules, on account of being the only one up, I didn't bother lowering my voice, knowing the black-clad attendants could hear me as I handed over my belt.

"If they even twitch suspiciously, you start swinging, okay?"

The Electabuzz grunted and held out a hand for a fistbump. Returning it, I patted him on the shoulder, ignoring the slight shock I got, and reluctantly turned around and left them behind, venturing into the surrounding haze.

Thankfully, Agatha didn't move very fast, and I caught up quickly. Even then, the others had already disappeared behind us, so second thoughts were useless.

Almost as if she could hear my thoughts, the Ghost Mistress glanced at me from the corner of her eye as she led the way, navigating between the gravestones without looking where she was going.

"Feel free to wander, if you want. I might even remember to pick you up."

I wanted to retort with something witty, but a large statue of a Raticate mid-leap appeared out of nowhere, forcing me to dodge.

"With this much Distortion around? I'm not that dumb." I grumbled, picking up my pace. Despite limping along casually, I could've sworn Agatha was speeding up.

"Distortion? Been talking to Psychics?" She asked, taking a turn as the wall suddenly came into existence in front of us, the staircase to the fourth floor straight ahead of us. It was a little annoying, waiting for her to grunt her way up the fairly long flight, but I held my tongue for once.

"One or two," I answered her question cagily. The Elite Four member might have saved us, but that didn't mean I was going to trust her automatically.

"Distortion." She mused as we strolled through the all-encompassing fog. In contrast to how Gary and I'd fumbled our way around, Agatha moved with an absolute surety, not as much as glancing around as she led the way. We also got to the stairs leading up to the fifth floor in minutes. "It's not a bad name. Better than Ghost-Type, anyway, bah! Superstitious fools, yapping about things they don't understand."

"So they're not actually ghosts?" I looked down at the still Honedge. Good to know I didn't have a dead person attached to me.

"Depends on what you mean." Or not. "While it's true that the fundamental building block of a Ghost-Type comes from the deceased, that's like saying a plant is the ghost of a seed. Just because something comes from somewhere doesn't mean it stays that way. Ghosts are no different." As we walked, the shadows of graves and monuments grew taller and taller, soon as tall as me, and then taller. Whispers grew louder, almost distinct, but they were different from earlier ones. In the presence of the Black Fog, they had felt inhospitable and hostile, a predator lurking just out of sight. In contrast, after the Haunter's death, they were… friendly was the wrong word, but there was a neutrality, a simple curiosity. "How much do you know about the Distorted, as you said. How they come to be, how they sustain themselves?"

"Fuji said they feed off emotions." My new Vulpix and Gary's Clefairy flashed through my mind. Was there a connection between Ghost- and Fairy-Type?

"For someone that friendly, the old man plays his cards close to his chest. Or he hasn't learned anything about ghosts since moving here, but I doubt he could keep himself from poking something for more than a few days." We walked in silence for a bit as Agatha visibly mulled over her answer. "It's technically not wrong, what Fuji said. It's about the emotions, yes, but it's about more than that. I don't care enough to get into it, but as even a simpleton like yourself must've noticed, Pokémon has a certain… energy."

"Grant called it Aura. Talked about people using it too." That was a lie, but even if Agatha questioned the old man, there was a decent chance he'd assume that he'd done it and forgotten.

"Senile fool, giving babies knowledge they're not ready for." Her lip curled, a flash of too sharp teeth peeking through as the light reflected off her shining eyes. "Thought the whole point of these rules and changes was to keep kiddies out of the way. Bah, whatever. If you get yourself killed, it's your problem, not mine. Aura is one name, yes; Type energy, Chi, Ki, the power of the soul. If you know where to look, you'll find a hundred different terms, but it's all the same shit. It's the essence of a being, the truth of their existence aligned with a natural force. Pokémon are capable of manipulating this force, or energy, instinctively, but as you said, some humans can do it too."

"And what does this have to do with Ghost-Types not being dead people or Pokémon?" Furthermore, how did the Distortion World fit into that?"

"Is that really the question you want to ask?" Agatha suddenly stopped and turned around, both hands planted on the top of her cane as she stared at me.

Looking around – to no avail, as I could barely see a few feet ahead at that point, Agatha's face hazy despite me being right in front of her – I frowned to myself. Unlike the fourth floor, we'd been walking for a while. The Ghost-Type Master and Lavender native was undoubtedly more familiar with the Pokémon Tower than I, but I guess even she could get lost. Which was a problem since the Distortion saturating the world around us had rapidly increased-

I stopped, my breath hitching with the freezing air, feeling it scorch my lips on the exhale before shooting out of my mouth as a plume of vapor.

"This is not the fifth floor."

"Took you long enough. Your senses are terrible, hah!" Her cane lashed out, the mist swirling as it almost blurred in and out of reality, warping and twisting before it struck the side of my head, entirely physical.

"OW! What the shit!?"

"That should've passed right through a human." She hummed easily, leaning forward to get right in my face. "Or a normal human, at least. But then, who can remain ordinary when they've gone where you have?"

I froze at the implication, head snapping up from where I'd been rubbing my cane mark just in time to see the old crone take a step backwards and literally vanish right in front of my eyes, the fog moving around her and leaving an afterimage for a second before it faded.

"I knew the truth from a hundred feet away. You reek." I held out Honedge as I spun around, trying to find the voice that came from all around. A deafening sniff inches from my ear. I whirled around, blade swinging, to see the giant fanged grin fade into the fog, the haunting eyes of the Gengar lingering for a moment.

"You've tried to smother it, to deny it, but you can't hide from me. No matter how many years pass, Distortion itself is imprinted on your very being. I know where you've been."

A shadow darted by me, and then another on the other side. A dozen more followed, surrounding me in a cage of gleaming fangs, crimson eyes, and foul snickers. I did my best to track them, yet had no real chance of doing so, even as Honedge began pulling left and right on its own, guiding the tip of the sword for me. Without even realising, I started backing away, heart in my throat.

And then I bumped into something. I whipped around, Steel-Type slicing through the air with a whistle, only to hit a pale stick with a metallic clang! Agatha's eyes burned down at me with an unholy inner light as light purple Distortion covered her cane and protected it against Honedge's edge.

Feeble old lady, my ass.

"Well? Are you going to lie?"

Fuck her, and fuck her parlor tricks, too.

"Fuck you! I ain't lying about shit! Yeah, I've been to that weird-ass place! What's it to you, hag!?"

Her face changed, and for a moment, I thought I'd pushed too far. Instead, she reared back and let out the first non-threatening laugh I'd heard from her.

"HA! Ah, you're all piss and vinegar, ain't you? I like that. Here." In a flash, she'd reached up and grabbed my hurt nose between her fingers. I didn't have time to respond before she wrenched her hand to the side, a sharp crack! ringing out as the broken bone was realigned.

"OW! Fucking leave me alone, you bitch!"

All I got in return was more laughter as she suddenly bent her knees and moved to sit down, despite there being nothing beneath her. Whatever horde of Ghost-Types she kept in her shadow solved that, surging up and making a chair for her to sit on. When she waved her hand behind me, I saw that another, much uglier stool had been made for me as well. It didn't even have a backrest.

I promptly ignored it.

Or tried to anyway. When I didn't sit, the stool flew upwards, hitting me in the back of the knees to make me crumple onto the seat, and then lowered again.

"What's it to me? Curiosity, mostly. It's so very rare to find a human that survived spending more than a fraction of a second there. It's extremely rough even for me, and I've forgotten more about Distortion than you've ever learned. And yet, based on how deeply you've been marked, you were there for much, much longer than any I've ever met. It's quite fascinating. Beyond that, it's also the explanation for your questions."

"And how's that?" Being completely honest, Agatha had me on edge in a way Walter and Grant never managed, even when the former was threatening to cut my head off.

"As I said, aura, energy, whatever. Every being has it, whether they can control it or not. This power has a… flavor, I suppose, an imprint of that being. The philosophically inclined interpret that as being our soul, if you want to be romantic. Regardless, sometimes something will die, and that energy will… slip through the veil. Maybe the local Distortion is particularly high."

She gestured around them, and almost as if on command, a hundred random Ghost-Types flew through the mist before disappearing again.

"Other times, the being in question is more than a little twisted in the first place, and simply feels more at home there. You've been." Her eyes glazed over, and I could've sworn she shivered. "You know it's no place for us. We're beings of law and order, of carefully maintained processes and logic. That place is the opposite. Random doesn't even begin to describe it, but I hardly have to tell you. Spend enough time there, and the boundaries start fraying. The nice, orderly, logical beings that we are become-"

"-Distorted." I finished for her.

"My word, what a brain on you. Clearly, the scientific community has missed out on quite a gem." I flushed a little at the incredible dryness in her voice, especially when our chairs giggled. "Yes, we become Distorted, as the brainiacs call it. By its very nature, the Distorted World rejects everything from this realm and tries to grind it down to change it to match its own idea of reality. But as I said, there is a flavor, an imprint, left behind in the aura. Not a personality, which is why Ghost-Type is as misleading as it is. What was once the most loyal Pokémon in the world can stand right in front of its previous owner and won't recognise them. But for those strong of will, the very core, the predominant trait, might remain. Maybe it's fear."

Once more, the darkness beneath her undulated, a noxious cloud seeping from it. Needle-esque teeth in a giant grin and huge eyes that rolled around dementedly hovered over the Master before disappearing again. "Maybe, they were a particularly skilled speaker or singer." The whispers returned, but augmented a hundredfold, ominous chants that made my head ache and eased my broken nose at the same time, echoing throughout the Tower, led by a figure in a frayed cloak and a massive hat. "Or, maybe they were a warrior so loyal it was engraved on their soul and who gave their life for their liege."

That time, both our eyes fell on Honegde, the sword Pokémon still doing its best impression of an inanimate object.

"So… technically ghosts, but not really?"

"Now you're getting it." I wasn't getting shit, and my head hurt.

"Of course, it rarely affects us humans without killing us, but it happens. We aren't just one emotion, though. We become erratic, impulsive, prone to following our slightest whims without thought for the consequences, losing our shit at the slightest provocation. And that's without being a bundle of angst and trauma like you."

So my early thoughts were right. Aura was affecting my emotions. And, whether Agatha knew it or not, the Distorted World wasn't just Ghost-Type energy.

Giratina was part Dragon-Type after all.

"... how do I control it?"

"There are several ways," she didn't seem bothered by my problems, but then, if what she was saying affected her as well, then why would she? "You seem to be going the Bruno way, all discipline and control, boring shit like that. The fact that you've made any progress on Fighting-Type energy speaks to how close you were to straight-up becoming a Ghost-Type yourself. You little trip has left you quite malleable How'd you get out, anyway?"

-a roar that made his cells cry in anguish ripped from the god in front of him as IT lurched towards him, hatred shining in ITs gaze and maw opening wide as IT swallowed him in one bite, teeth ripping through him as he let out a scream and-

"A giant dragon thing ate me."

She stared at me, jaw dropping a little, and her eyes growing wide before she caught herself.

"... as I said, fascinating." I did not like the way she looked at me when she said that, so I moved the conversation along, even though I had many more questions.

"Honedge… it used to be my sword, right?" A brief crack of the metallic eyelid flashed a sliver of blue before the Ghost-Type went back to ignoring me.

"It did," Agatha confirmed.

"So, what, you just hit enough ghosts and then a new one gets born?" That sounded surprisingly easy.

"You think you're the first to hit a Ghost-Type with something a couple of times? People have been running around swinging everything a Ghost-Type has ever possessed, trying to make their own. It takes a lot of Distortion, your own internal one helped in your case, but usually environmental. This Tower has been used for it by family after family, Clan after Clan. Many a Banette was born here."

"Including your own Clan?" Spending time with the Pebble and Waterflower Clans had helped my knowledge of Kantonian politics, but I hadn't heard of any major Lavender Clans.

"You think I'm a Clan brat? Ha! No, no. No Clan has ever lasted long in Lavender. All get too big in their britches and think they can control the Tower. Never lasts long. Nah, while I was born here, it wasn't to anyone special. Didn't even own the house I was born in. Or was allowed to stay there in the first place. Plenty of empty houses in Lavender to squat in."

"Huh." That… surprised me. I wasn't sure when it happened, but I kind of started associating strong Trainers with powerful backers.

I really was becoming an elitist.

"Was that a glimmer of respect? Oh, my old, cold heart feels all warm!" She pretended to faint, her Gengar catching her and fanning her with a faux panicked expression before sitting her back up and diving back to her shadow. "I looked into you. Guess you've seen people like my parents over in Orre, before you showed up on that fucking dick, Oak's, doorstep."

"Why do all you dusty fossils hate the Professor so much, anyway? Grant said something about a treaty or something?" Seriously, Grant, Walter, Blaine, and now Agatha. What the fuck had he done that pissed off basically everyone he used to know?

"Suppose little Sammy doesn't flaunt the good old days." The chuckle she let out was bitter, her gaze distant and lost as she stared at a random grave, her cane tapping a beat against the stone floor. Her shadow grew tendrils that wrapped around her in a facsimile of a hug, but she waved them off with a huff. "Enough of that, I'm hardly a child. I've told you plenty, much more than most get, so you'll have to get the details somewhere else. Shouldn't be that hard with the auspicious company you keep, rubbing shoulders with the Clans." She paused again, then eventually restarted slowly.

"The Rebellion, or war, or whatever you wanna call it… it wasn't good. The Clans of Johto and the Sevii Islands struck with no warning and managed to wreak quite a lot of havoc before we could muster a response. We knew they weren't happy with things, but nothing pointed to open conflict."

She sighed and sank into herself. For the first time since I'd met her, despite the wrinkles and white hair, Agatha actually seemed old.

"Those were dark days. Whole towns were wiped from the map in a blaze of dragonfire, children pulled from their homes and given a Pokémon so they could be sent to the front lines. It was the first large-scale conflict since the invention of the PokéBall, you see, even if they weren't as advanced as they are today. We had Acorn Balls, of course, but they were hard to make, and even the Clans rarely had more than a couple of dozen at a time. Average Trainers and their partners had to get around physically. And then, all of a sudden, kids younger than you had half an army in their pockets. It was chaos."

I could imagine, snippets of the Rocket Lab and the S.S. Anne running through my mind. I hadn't considered how much that invention must've changed things – in my head, the PokéBall was a standard of the franchise that had always been there.

"And then, one of those snot-nosed kids on our side started pulling his weight. I was hardly better myself, but at least I was growing hair on my privates, which is more than can be said for Oak." She chuckled at my grimace before the brief moment of levity left her. "But, as everyone and their grandma knows these days, there was something special about Samuel Oak. A talent, a drive, an intellect that couldn't be denied. Soon, he was in charge of his own squad, then company, then battalion. Battle after battle won, piles of corpses left in his wake. It took a couple of years, but few could disagree when he was promoted to general and then Champion. We pushed Johto back further and further, and the victory was all but assured. The men were celebrating, command talking about what we'd do with their leaders. Many were in favor of wipping out the Blackthorns completely, and maybe even Mahogany, to make sure they could never pull shit like that again. And then…"

"He signed a peace treaty," I completed her sentence again, the pieces coming together. All but one. "Why? If the plan was to kill them all, then why?"

"For that, you'll have to ask him. I've poured my heart out to a stranger enough for one day." Agatha shrugged. "But that's the gist. As you can guess, a lot of us weren't happy about that. So the fucker abandoned his rank and fled to the ass-end of Kanto to play in his Lab. The pussy."

"... I see."

"No, you don't." The old woman groaned as she stood up, her back popping like gunshots. I stood with her, our seats of solidified Distortion fading back to her shadow. "And I don't feel like making you. You've gotten enough secrets. Finish up here, grab your friends, and fuck off." With those parting words, she spun around and began limping away into the mist.

"HEY!" I yelled, trying to follow her, yet it felt like I was on a treadmill, none of my steps moving me forward. "You're supposed to lead me out of here! And what business!?"

"Lead you out?" The words drifted back even as she became a silhouette that rapidly grew smaller and smaller. "Blind brat! The stairs are right there!" I could vaguely make out a gesture to the right, and following the direction, I did indeed suddenly see a wall with a downwards staircase.

The movement also allowed me to see something else out of the corner of my eye, something down at ground level.

A rock. Specifically, an almost rectangular stone that had been rounded at the top, identical to thousands I'd passed on the way up the Pokémon Tower.

"... thank you." I was almost whispering, but even then, I didn't doubt she heard me.

Looking around, I couldn't find anything to etch into the stone with. At least, nothing I didn't already have.

"Do you mind?" Based on the complete lack of reaction, I assumed Honedge was indeed okay with being used as a writing utensil. It was going to take some time to get used to the total lack of both facial and verbal expressions.

Kneeling, I tried to take my time, but I wasn't a writer, and using a full-length sword wasn't ideal either. Despite that, and the frustration of it not being perfect, I didn't mind as much as I thought.

It was the thought – or in this case, the symbolism – that counted.

Standing back up, I sighed deeply while looking down at the words I'd carved.

Here lies the Vulpix, Ra

A brave, strong, and loyal friend

He deserved better

And no matter how many years pass

He will never be forgotten
​

The letters were crooked, the lines drifting across the stone. The words were inadequate, and I had nothing to bury.

And yet, it felt good.

"I don't care if I have to tear this tower down stone by stone, I'm finding my way back up here," I swore to the grave, whipping the slight dampness from my eyes as I looked around. Honedge tightened around my arm as I stood there for a time, before finally sighing and patting the headstone as I turned to the stairs.

"I'll be back. I promise."

The stairs continued for much longer than any of the others, the enclosed staircase lit by torches to prevent falls. As I descended, I felt the Distortion in the air fade rapidly, and by the time I stepped out into the very lightly misted room, with the walls and ceiling visible, I knew with certainty that I was back on the first floor.

And standing there waiting for me was a kimono-clad female with a black veil concealing her face. She was already bowing by the time I saw her, holding out both her hands to support my belt with six PokéBalls on it.

"Honored-"

Snatching the belt, I ignored her and immediately headed towards the exit while putting it back on.

I'd had enough of the Pokémon Tower for one day.

Or so I thought, until I saw Gary kneeling by a tombstone. Sighing, I came to a stop a respectable distance away, shuffling around until he heard me. The brown-haired boy rubbed furiously at his eyes while coughing, his team gathered around him – looking tired and beaten, but still standing – before he quickly recalled them. Walking close once he'd had a chance to recover, I pursed my lips at the nice and even writing on the stone.

In honor of Raticate

I am sorry
​

Damn Gary.

Silence lingered for a moment before he spoke up with a scratchy voice.

"When does it get better?" I didn't need to be the genius Agatha had mockingly called me to understand what he was talking about.

"Honestly?" He nodded, not even bothering to insult me for the silly question. "Like any intense emotion, it dulls somewhat with time." I looked at him, filled with wrath, grief, and fury, and just felt hollow. "After a while, you realise you've gotten used to it. And that really fucking sucks."

We were silent for a minute, staring down at Raticate's grave.

Gary broke first.

"That sounds shitty."

I chuckled without humor. "Yeah, it is. On the other hand, we-"

I stopped, blinking down at the marker next to Raticate's.

Here lies the Vulpix, Ra

A brave, strong, and-
​

What the fuck?

"Man, fuck this tower," I complained, spinning around and heading for the exit, Gary right on my heels as he laughed.

"Seriously, we should tear this shit down and build a Pokémart instead."

Arriving at the tunnel leading back out, I completely ignored the girl, who may or may not be Mito, who bowed as we passed, instead hurrying through the corridor.

We both sighed with relief as we emerged into the dim light of Lavender, the cloudy sky seeming almost comforting after the bullshit of the Pokémon Tower. Though I could've sworn the sun still hadn't moved.

On second thought, screw the whole town. I was so done with its garbage.

On cue, my PokéDex beeped, making me fish it out with a sigh.

"That Bill?" Gary asked.

"Yeah, still him."

"Tell him to come to Lavender and give us a Teleport. Fuck walking to Celadon."

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused. "Thought you hated the guy."

"Dislike, first of all. Second, we got bigger things to worry about." His eyes were hard as he looked out over the horizon. "That was a shit show. If we're going to take down that Rocket base you talked about, we need to do better, and it would be stupid to ignore a resource like that. In fact, while you're at it, tell him to bring some premium-grade Fire Stones. We need more power for this."

I thought about it for a second before shrugging. I'd partly refrained because the Oaks had a problem with the man, but I wasn't going to ask twice.

Time to wring a billionaire dry.

---

So much exposition, but I had fun.

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

Time to wring a billionaire dry.

Click to shrink...

You literally can't. No matter how much you wring out. Money appear from nowhere and everywhere.

So the Honedge is his own sword. That's freaking metal. I wondered why it was attached to him so much. Now we know why.

 

[ApiLol123123]

Thanks for the chapter, eager to read the next one!