The 9th Mystery [Pokémon]

[wdango]

This story is currently under revision.

Progress:

Premise - deleted. will be replaced by foreword once revision is complete.
Prologue - done.
Chapter 1 - done.
Excerpt 1 - done.
Chapter 2 - currently under revision.

 

[wdango]

P R O L O G U E

The Bad Daughter​

Growing up, your Dad was a villain.

You remember a glittering childhood, and a little girl who idolised the man. But then you had to spend many nights, years even — a child forced to hold your own mother in your arms.

Every violent fight would end with a wine glass, or a cereal bowl, or a picture frame hitting the wall, raining shards onto the floor. One time, it was even the expensive marbled glass that used to decorate the top of your dining table, smashed into pieces by his naked fist. You remember that clenched fist, studded with the tabletop shards and leaking blood onto the hardwood floors, and you remember your mother sobbing and begging and yelling and crying, and all that hero worship washed away like mud in her torrent of tears.

You remember thinking, oh, so this is the strength of a Pokémon Trainer.

Why didn't your brother ever feel the same way? He's almost ten years your elder, and he must have seen the abuse. He must have understood. But he always remained a bystander.

Two years ago was when everything changed.

Mom wasn't a Pokémon Trainer, you see, and of course she couldn't be.

If you didn't know any better, you'd think that everyone who lived in Razzetti City was a Citizen. In reality, whether it's the traders or the porters, the chef-owners or the clerks. . . Most of the people that you see living in the city are mere Residents.

There are many ways to become a Citizen, of course — you could earn it through service to the state, or inherit it from a parent — but you couldn't marry into it, so even after your Mom married your Dad, she remained just a Resident.

As a Resident, you could own land, or even run your own business, but you will never have the full breadth of privilege owed to a Citizen of the Free City. And most importantly, unless you're a Citizen, you can't become a Pokémon Trainer.

So she's always been a little bit sickly, and without a Pokémon Bond to bolster her health. . .

It was a heart attack.

You were sixteen when she passed, and your Dad turned into a different man.

In the stories, this is when the monster turns even uglier. Sometimes, there's a stepmother. Sometimes, without the poor wife as a victim for his wrath, he just turns his wicked ways upon his children, and they become the new and even more helpless victims.

That's not what happened.

You watched the angry monster melt away, and you saw the broken man underneath.

Too late, you thought bitterly, but at that time, you didn't understand.

While your brother held your Dad together in his grief, you simply walked away, and it took you many more months before you finally pieced it together. It was simply too bad that by then, you had already long inherited too many things from both of your parents.

Why didn't you realise it earlier?

He had never raised a hand to hit her, or your brother, or you. He had never even said a single word against her, whether it was at the peak of their fights, or even years after that and until now, long after her death. Perhaps breaking things was the only way that your Dad knew how to express his helplessness.

Your father is a bad man. How can he treat his wife like this? You'll never leave Mom's side, right, Chloe? You'll never take his side. I'm the victim. He's a villain. I regret marrying him. If I never bore kids for him, maybe I could have left. I'm enduring this for you, you know. You mustn't listen to what he says. Listen to Mom. Mom knows better. I sacrificed everything for you, Chloe. Even your brother doesn't understand. He always takes your father's side. It's just the two of us, Chloe. You're my good daughter. You're just like me when I was younger. Such a clever, pretty girl. Oh, I was pretty once, you know, just like you, before I married that monster. You know everything is his fault, right, Chloe? Oh, you're the only one who understands. I love you, Chloe. You love Mom, too, don't you?

You should have realised it earlier.

Without her poison in your ears, and without her poison in your Dad's life, you watched the monster melt away, and the broken man was revealed. A powerful Pokémon Trainer is what he should have been.

Instead. . .

Ever since then, your Dad has stopped going to work.

He doesn't go to the Guild Hall, and he doesn't meet any of his friends anymore. Nowadays, he only spends his days sitting around the house. You haven't seen a single hint of his Primeape, and even his Pokéball can no longer be found on his belt. Once, through the open door of his bedroom, you think you've seen the red-and-white sphere sitting on some shelf, gathering a thick layer of dust on its upper red dome.

In most parts of the world, becoming a Trainer means that you answer either to the military, or to the clergy. You're responsible to either the state or the Temple, since you're the only ones who can fight off the Wild Pokémon that roam the Wilderness and the Dungeons.

Razzettian Citizens are the only Trainers who are spared from this obligation. You can use your Pokémon to pursue art or industry, or even any whim that might pique your curiosity. As a Trainer of the Free City, you are bent to no cause but your own. And yet, it is this very same freedom that has somehow become your Dad's shackles.

At first, you thought it wouldn't take that long for him grieve and move on. Their relationship. . . It was so dysfunctional that you even thought he might be happy for her to be gone.

But a year after your Mom's death, you turned seventeen, and he remained the same.

In the Federal Commonwealth of Kanto, seventeen is a big age — it's when you graduate from basic schooling, and it's also when the state considers you an adult.

If you're a Citizen, this is also when a Pokémon Master — usually one of your parents, or one of their colleagues — will sponsor you towards one of the eight Temples, so that you can undergo its Trial. If you pass, that Temple's god will grant you a Pokémon Bond, and you can finally become a Pokémon Trainer. After that, the same Master who sponsored you will usually take you in as an apprentice.

And that's what happened for your brother, too, back when he turned seventeen. He got a Chimchar, and he became your Dad's formal apprentice.

But for you? Of course not.

As a matter of fact, even if your Dad wanted to, would you even have accepted it? And perhaps your brother could sponsor and apprentice you instead, if he already had his Mastery, but he doesn't yet, so he can't.

And barring apprenticeship to a full-fledged Master, the only way you're becoming a Trainer is by conscripting yourself to the Federal military, like some Resident desperate for Citizenship, and you would never do that. You've seen the guys who trade in those two or three decades for a ticket to the Temple, and what do they get for it? If they're lucky enough to survive, usually it's an entire catalogue of injuries so horrific that you're surprised the Bond still manages to hold their bodies in one piece, and that hollow look in their eyes that always sends chills down your spine.

Now, another year has already passed since then. It's two entire years after your Mom's death. Nothing more has happened. Time has come to a frozen standstill. Just like your Dad, you don't hang out with your friends anymore — they've all moved on with their lives and their individual apprenticeships. You didn't even celebrate your eighteenth birthday, when it came around just a while back.

So there you have it.

Your hand is full of cards that you don't actually want to play. Equipped with all of the privileges afforded by the Free City, but impotent to actually exercise it. Eighteen, overdue, and stuck in a limbo you've convinced yourself that you can't escape.

In many ways, you are indeed your father's daughter.

You are Chloe Adrianna, and you are a coward.

________​

 

[wdango]

C H A P T E R : O N E

Into the Darkness​

The Evergreen River cuts from West to East across Razzetti Fortress, the capital city, and it's longer across than even two city blocks put together. It's still early enough in the evening that curfew is barely an afterthought, but even so, the city lights are already shimmering reflections on the river's surface, golden pinpricks on an undulating blue canvas.

The sturdy bridge that spans the river is hewn out of stone, and it's an architectural marvel that's so wide that you can imagine two entire Venusaurs walking across it, side by side and still with room to spare. You doubt you'll ever confirm it, though. Trainers rarely release their Pokémon within the city, and you'll be hard-pressed to find two Trainers who both have a Venusaur, nonetheless.

A shadow falls over you, blocking out the early evening sun.

"Are you really not intending to exercise your Initiation privilege?"

Ah. Your brow creases in subtle annoyance. Your brother's found you. But you suppose that he's already been back for several days, and he was bound to catch you eventually. Damned stalker.

"Chloe."

"Yes, yes." Don't be so mean to him, Chloe. It's not his fault.

"Don't you want to become a Pokémon Trainer? You've trained your entire life for this."

You shrug ambiguously. "Yeah."

". . ."

". . ."

"Grrrrgh. . ." Lucas groans in frustration, lifting a hand to scramble his own hair, already messy, into further disarray. "Come on, Sis. You're already eighteen. You gotta do something with your life."

"Why don't you tell that to Dad?" You bite out, and regret it immediately.

SMACK

A gentle hand smacks the back of your head painlessly, and you feel a little bit better. "Don't be like that," Lucas says.

You rub the offended spot, glaring at him briefly. "I'm not wrong, Lucas."

Your brother sighs. "This isn't about him. It's about you. Our family's wealth isn't going to sustain you forever."

Smoothly, you avert your gaze again, betraying nothing. You already know this. Especially since Dad isn't working anymore. You're a Citizen of Razzetti, so you at least have that going for you. But status is status, and money is money.

"Chloe."

"And who will I apprentice to, Lucas? Not Dad, that's for sure." You suppress the sardonic laugh threatening to bubble up your throat. Stubbornly, you keep your gaze locked onto the ripples on the river's surface. "And you're far from Mastery yourself."

"You could be Dad's apprentice–"

"–you're an idiot," you interrupt. "That's not a real option."

"So if there was a real option, you would do it?"

You shake your head. "I'm not apprenticing to some no-name third-rate Master, Lucas. And I'm not joining the military, either. I told you that."

"I know." In the corner of your eye, you see him nod. "I'm talking about something else."

You pause, and finally look back at him. He's a spitting image of you. Dark hair like your Dad, bright eyes like your Mom.

"You don't mean to tell me to work a mundane job, do you?" You stare at him, as if daring him to disagree with you. Even the most unfortunate of second-generation Citizens would rather enlist than do that. "I'm not gonna work a job without Pokémon, Lucas. I'm not gonna lower myself to the level of a Resident, or gods forbid, a Traveller."

"Chloe!" Lucas hisses, glancing around to see if anyone overheard you. Pointless. You picked this exact spot on the riverbank because you knew you wouldn't be disturbed.

You fold your arms imperiously. "Well? I'm not."

Your brother sighs. "That's not what I meant at all. I managed to pull some strings, okay? I got an opportunity for you."

You narrow your eyes. That doesn't sound suspicious at all. "What is it? Skip the suspense, already."

"Right, Sis. You're gonna love this." He licks his lips. "You ever heard of Silph Academy?"

What? "No way."

"Yes way. I've secured one of the exchange student slots for you. You're in, right?"

You stare at his smug face. "How did you — there's only one slot every year — no, you're not kidding, right? This isn't a joke. That Silph Academy?"

"Is there more than one Trainer's Academy anywhere in this world?" His grin widens. "Are you in or are you not?"

You shove him, and he takes half a step back. You can't help it. You bet the grin on your own face matches the one he's sporting. "Of course I'm in, you idiot! What's the catch?"

His expression falters, just a little bit.

________​

Your family is small, but it's one of the traditional ones. That means that you live in one of those walled-in clan compounds that Razzettians call a corral, just like the other old families of the Fortress. Unlike the others, though, your corral is inhabited by only three people, and most of the buildings remain vacant, haunted by memories that nobody still remembers, with doors and windows that only open for the daily or weekly workers who come to clean the dust and the cobwebs.

Usually, you'd rather be talking in the central pavilion, lounging on one of the many comfortable sofas, or in the southwestern pavilion, where the kitchen and dining hall are located. But this is the kind of conversation that needs just a little bit more privacy.

So instead, you find yourself in your personal dwelling, one of the tiny studios amongst a dozen clones scattered along the western wall. It fits only your bed and a low table barely two paces away, a perfect setting for a discussion that might determine your entire future.

Seated cross-legged on the woven bamboo floor, you grimace across the table at your brother. "How is this better than military service?"

Lucas carefully splays his fingers on the table, shaking his head. "We're not military, Chloe. We're. . . You can consider us more of a secret society, so to speak."

"And your boss wants me to join this thing."

"No, I want you to join us," he says. "We don't usually admit new Trainers, let alone go out of our way to recruit. . . Well, you're not even a Trainer yet. But he agreed to make an exception for you. You just have to agree to do this one thing for us, and you're in, and the exchange slot for this year is yours."

"Does Dad know about this?"

"Some of it," he says.

So, no. Of course, it's one more secret to keep. You knew that it was too good to be true.

". . . Why me?"

"What do you mean, why you? You don't want to take any of the options avail—"

"—No, I mean, why would he make an exception for me?"

Lucas holds your gaze. "Because of me. I'm a pretty trusted member, and I already know you can keep a secret. We can't actually let our existence leak to the public, but we're always short on trustworthy members, so when I vouched for you, he agreed to give it a try."

"Hmm. . . . ."

"I know it sounds suspicious, but you've got to trust me, Chloe. An opportunity like this won't come twice. And once you're one of us. . . You'll have an even brighter future ahead of you, I promise."

"I don't even know what your so-called secret society does, Lucas." You shake your head. "How long have you been a member, anyway?"

He leans forward. "More than five years, now. And I already told you what we do. We're trying to find out what the Temples are hiding, and we're really close."

So this entire time. . . You crease your brows. And right, he did say that. "The Temples that give us the Pokémon Bond?"

"Are there any other Temples?" A look of frustration crosses his face. "Sis, come on. You know there are only the eight."

You scowl back at him. "What, so you can bring up conspiracies, but I can't? And why would the Temples even hide anything from us? They're already. They have nothing more to gain."

Something gleams in his eyes. "But they might have something to lose. And that's exactly what we want to find out. That's where we need your help, right?"

"Ugh." You grumble. "Fine. Let's say one of the Temples is hiding something. Which one?"

"You're not thinking big enough." He shakes his head again. "All of them."

You breathe in through your teeth, then slowly let it out with a hiss. "Three of those eight aren't even on this side of the continent. Their doctrines aren't even the same. And you're saying that they're all, what, working together? That's crazy, Lucas. You really expect me to believe this?"

"It is crazy." He nods grimly. "But it's true, and you're wrong. The doctrines may be different, but all of the myths are the same, right? And once you do this, you'll find out for yourself whether we're full of shit or not."

"The myths might all be the same because they're true, Lucas."

He opens his mouth to protest, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

"Let's say," you start, then repeat. "Let's say. Let's say I'm in. What do you need me to do?"

Lucas pauses, takes a steadying breath, then says, "So, you know those myths that somehow align across all eight Temples? We recently found a divine relic, and it's not connected to any of the eight gods, or any of the known myths."

Your brow crumples. "Go on."

He swallows, then continues. "Our researchers have determined that there is a way to activate this relic. All you need to do is bring it into the Initiation Chamber, and then take note of—"

"The Initiation Ch— the Chamber of the Trial!?"

"That's the one." He nods. "As I was saying, you just need to take note of whatever it is that happens, and then report whatever it is back to us."

"—Ha!" A single bark of derisive laughter escapes your lips. "You just need a girl who doesn't even have her Bonded Pokémon yet to walk right into the heart of–of–of hostile territory, and do all of your investigation for you. Are you really doing this to your own sister, brother?"

Lucas licks his lips, and when he speaks again, his voice is measured. "We've never betrayed one of our own before, Chloe. And this task is perfect for you. There's no risk at all, or I wouldn't even have considered it."

". . . . ."

". . . Chloe."

"Shut up. I'm thinking."

The only way to enter the Initiation Chamber is when you're attempting your Trial. That means it's either gonna be you, or some desperate middle-aged uninitiated Citizen.

You figure your brother's not entirely honest. You're their only option.

. . . They might even be pressuring Lucas into roping you in.

You don't have to do this, but. . . Screw it.

"Alright," you finally say. "Fine."

"You'll do it?" Relief and excitement creep in tandem across Lucas's face, like hesitant frost across a piece of glass.

You scowl. "Yeah. I'll do it."

"That's great, Chloe! Welcome to the Order!"

You sigh, bringing up one hand to massage the space between your eyebrows. ". . . What was the name of this secret society again?"

THUMP

Lucas grins proudly, thumping a fist to his chest. Two fingers trace the shape of a circle in what's obviously a secret salute of some sort. "We call ourselves the Reclamation Order for Covenant, Knowledge, Enlightenment, and Truth."

Oh, gods.

It gets worse. Later, you find out that they also call themselves ROCKET, for short.

________​

There are three types of alcohol that are signature to the Commonwealth.

First, of course, there's palmasa, also known as bark wine, or colloquially just palm beer. Made from the sap of Pamtre berry trees, it's a cloudy amber beer that only takes a couple of days to make. It's popular because it's fizzy and sweet, and also very cheap.

Growing up, you often heard tales of how your Dad fed you a little bit on a teaspoon, when you were barely old enough to walk, and then how you started dancing and jumping around on the couch. To this day, you still have a taste for the drink, and it's one of the things you'll miss the most, once you're away.

And then there's risino, also known as red moon wine, or red rice wine. It's made from red glutinous rice, and it's thick and milky. The suspended red sediments in the opaque white drink gives it a pink tinge – many think it's pretty, but you've personally decided it's just creepy.

Sour and sharp with a bitter aftertaste, you don't think anyone actually enjoys it. Still, it's a traditional drink that's often served in ceremonies and festivals, but you hear it's actually more common to see it consumed in the outer ring, rather than in the inner city.

Finally, you have sudora. There's two types — it's simply distilled from either palmasa or risino. It's strong, and pungent, and it burns, and you hate it.

Ironically, the stuff made from risino is smoother and sweeter, but the liquid you're pouring into the shallow conical cup is a pale gold, instead of clear and transparent, so it's the more potent palmasa sudora. This is gonna suck extra.

The cup fills to the brim, and you cut the flow.

DMPP

As if to punctuate the pour, the man sitting beside you taps a single stern finger onto the table. Quietly, you pass the jar of alcohol to him with both hands.

Despite the dark three-piece suit framing his lean posture, he's far from out of place in the rustic bar you're meeting in. Rather, his presence is what sets the atmosphere itself in the otherwise empty bar. Without even a bartender to attend the two of you, the only other people present are two men in simpler suits, standing to each side of the entrance as if guards to guarantee your privacy.

Your brother had told you earlier that ROCKET usually operates in a cell structure, with each cell of operatives only interacting with either the members of their own cell, or the handler who is in charge of passing down instructions and receiving reports. So you didn't quite expect your induction into the society to be a face-to-face welcome with the Boss of ROCKET himself.

And even more unexpectedly, he's actually someone that you've seen before, although this is the first time you've met him up close — the Grand Master of Razzetti City's House of Guilds, Silvano Giovanni, and one of the most powerful men in the world.

"Tell me," he says as he starts to pour into a matching shallow cup. "Are you religious, Chloe?"

The Boss pours with a steady hand, and you watch the spirit swirl elegantly into your cup, as if keeping time with the dread and regret filling up your lungs. The cup fills up, and he sets the jar down on the table with a gentleness that nearly catches you off-guard. Belatedly, you knock a closed fist onto the table.

THCK THCK THCK

That's how you've always been taught to show respect for someone who pours you a drink. One finger once to a junior, two fingers twice to a peer, and a fist thrice to a senior.

"I," you first mutter, then raise your voice to speak with more confidence, "wouldn't say that."

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the corners of his lips turn into the barest hint of a smile. "Ah, a true Razzettian. Still, a little bit surprising, for someone aspiring to be a Trainer. But you're at least familiar with the myths, yes?"

You resist the urge to shrug, and you force your head into a proper nod. "Of course. We're taught in school."

"Tell me," he says again. "How were the eight gods born?"

What?

At your incredulity, the Boss's eyes gleam with apparent amusement. He blinks slowly, and the weight of his gaze is almost a physical sensation. "Entertain me for a bit," he insists.

"Yes, sir." Well. Restraining a grimace, you lick your lips before speaking. "Arceus created the world, and it was perfect. The world was filled with humans and animals, but not all was well."

You pause, but the Boss simply beckons for you to continue telling the story. He obviously also knows this myth, and probably way better than you do. Yet, he's still listening to you with rapt attention. "Go on," he says.

"Not all was well," you repeat, "because Arceus had a dark counterpart called Giratina, who was His equal and opposite. Arceus had no choice but to divide Himself into eight parts, and turned into the eight new gods. His plan succeeded, and Giratina was also broken, divided into countless fragments. The eight gods then sealed Giratina away into the animals, and all of the animals turned into Pokémon."

That's not the way the scriptures phrase it, but close enough.

As if in affirmation of your thoughts, the Boss nods. "That's why the Temples have a monopoly on Pokémon Training. The only way to get a Bond is by passing a Trial in one of the Temples, and for its god to. . . gift you with your Pokémon."

". . . Yes, sir."

"Don't you find that suspicious?"

Suspicious? The Temples?

The Boss spreads his fingers open wide, displaying his palms. "Pokémon Trainers have always been the lynchpin of human civilisation. It's not just defending against Wild Pokémon attacks. Agriculture, energy, industry. . . Without a Pokémon Trainer to hold everything together, society would fall apart."

"I know that," you say cautiously. "That why literally every living person wants to be a Trainer, but obviously that's impossible. Isn't that the entire reason why we have Citizenship? But I'm not sure how that makes the Temples. . . suspicious."

"Power," he says.

"You think they have too much power?"

Instead of answering, he says, "Who do you think holds the most power in this world?"

You squint at him. "Isn't it our country? The Federal Commonwealth of Kanto. Some would even say this city, the capital."

The Boss's smile widens a little bit at your words. "Your patriotism is admirable, but far from it. For one, the Silph Republic next door, while geographically smaller, is far more unified than our Commonwealth. Thus the reputation behinds its Trainer's Academy, yes? And that's just talking about the Eastern Continent."

Your face twists a little bit. It's jarring, to hear the man at the helm of the entire country say such things. "You mean it's subjective."

He nods again, visibly pleased. "It's subjective, if we're talking about the countries. But no. You already know the answer that I was looking for. So tell me, who is the most powerful force in this world, Chloe?"

You swallow. "The Temples."

His smile widens yet again. "The Temples, yes. They answer to none of the governments, and we all pay their tributes. We've already established that all of civilisation's functions rely solely on the service of Trainers, and yet when it comes to getting more Trainers? It doesn't matter whether it's the Commonwealth or the Republic. All of us remain at their whims."

". . . I can see that," you admit. "But the countries still exist independently. They don't rule us."

"Ah, yes." The Boss's pleasure visibly dims, and a flash of frustration comes over his eyes. "But they used to. Tell me, Chloe. Are you familiar with the third country of the Eastern Continent?"

You nod. "Amatsugakure. My father did his Initiation at its Temple."

"Good. Then you know that the country falls under the rule of its Temple."

"I do," you say.

"Are you also familiar with the fact that there used to be eight countries? And each one fell under the rule of one of the Temples."

Ah. . . You shake your head. "I'm sorry. History wasn't my strongest subject in school."

He turns his head slightly, and his gaze turns distant. "Then I'll do the honour of refreshing your memory. The current balance of power. . . The fact that a secular government can exist at all is fairly new to history. Just less than a century ago, things used to look very different."

You watch the many emotions flitting across his face, and cautiously wipe your palms against the fabric of your pants.

"Just not too long ago, every living person fell under the tyranny of the Temples. You would live under a Temple's rule, and you would swear fealty to its god. Every single Trainer was part of the clergy. To choose your faith like many people do now, or to be agnostic like us — it was something not just unthinkable, but even taboo."

He turns his gaze back towards you, and you nearly recoil from the intensity of it.

"As you said earlier, some would say that Razzetti City might be the most powerful force in this world. That's regretfully not true, but we were indeed the first secular government in history, and we were indeed the ones who even made this era possible."

". . . Yes, sir," you say. Calm, Chloe. You let out a steady breath, and unclench your fingers.

"The Order exists, in part, to inherit this will. We believe that ahead of us lies an even better future for humanity. But in order to get there, we have to wrest away even more power from the Temples." The Boss closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, then opens them again. "Don't worry, Chloe. I understand all of this is a little bit hard to believe. But we have collected much evidence, and you too will see them, once you've proven yourself a little bit more."

"Yes, sir," you say again.

He nods. "Then, you will be the one to collect one more piece of evidence for us, and you will have the chance to prove it for yourself firsthand."

His declaration hangs in the air, and you wait for more, but the Boss picks up his cup, and meets you in the eye. Now it strikes you, the way you're seated together at the bar. A little bit lonely, without anyone else present. And yet, you're seated not across from, but next to each other. It feels intentional. Symbolic.

The silence stretches.

"From this day on, you are no longer just your brother's sister. We know you as Chloe, one of us."

With both hands, you take your own cup, and you wait, just like your brother taught you. This is the ritual. The leaders go first, and the people follow. Power, but also trust, and responsibility.

He drinks, GULP GULP, and sets his cup down with a gentle THUNK.

You mirror the motion, tilting the cup into your lips.

GULP. GULP.

It's lukewarm, and strong, and pungent, and it burns. You are unsure whether or not you hate it.

"Welcome to the family, Chloe."

"Yes, sir."

Family, huh? No turning back, now.

________​

 

[wdango]

E X C E R P T

The Creation Myth​

In the beginning, Arceus, the Father of All Things, created the world.

He formed light and shadow, time and space, life and death, and the world was filled with human beings and animal creatures.

But to each light, there must be a shadow, and from the depths of the void, Giratina was born — the shadow of Arceus, a reflection of all that He was. Where Arceus created, Giratina lurked, growing ever stronger in the presence of Arceus's light. As Arceus's power grew, so too did Giratina's, a balance of creation and destruction. The two were bound together, inseparable, yet at odds.

Arceus saw that Giratina's power had grown too great, threatening to swallow the world. In His wisdom, Arceus made the ultimate sacrifice: He shattered His own divinity, breaking Himself into eight pieces to weaken Giratina, so that the darkness could be sealed away.

From the shattered essence of Arceus, eight new gods arose, each inheriting a part of His divinity, and each inheriting a part of His divine Mystery. Thus, each of the new gods came to rule over their own domains within creation — their own Mystery.

The eight gods, born of Arceus's sacrifice, immediately took responsibility to govern and manage the world. They worked in concert, guiding humanity and ensuring balance, for they had inherited the very essence of creation.

With Arceus's grand act, Giratina was shattered, not into just eight but countless pieces. Inheriting Arceus's will, the eight gods worked together to seal him away into the animals, and the animals turned into Pokémon. This is why Pokémon seek destruction, warring with each other and consuming each other, but hating humanity above all else.

But by grace! To temper their destruction, each god has empowered their faithful acolytes to Bond these Pokémon to their wills, allowing humanity to restore balance to the world. Hope is restored, and with it comes the promise of peace, one day into the future.

________​

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Merged.)

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Merged.)

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Merged.)

 

[wdango]

We're caught up to my backlog now, so updates will come a bit slower after this. Expect a chapter around once every week, or every two weeks.

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)

 

[wdango]

You know, I'm considering moving this to the NSFW Creative forums, despite not actually having any NSFW content. Is that a thing that people do?

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Merged.)

 

[wdango]

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[wdango]

Chapters merged for pacing.

2&3 -> 2 : Don't Look Back
4&5 -> 3 : Theft and Pretense
6&7 -> 4 : Before the Twilight
8 -> 5 : The Meaning of Names

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)

 

[wdango]

"This entire war is one of religion," Jocelyn says.

What war is waged only on one side? You shake your head. "I'll hear it. What is this so-called true myth of yours?"

"It goes like this," she says, her eyelashes fluttering as her eyelids slip half-closed, like curtains lowering to partially veil her distant gaze. "In the beginning, in the eternal and chaotic void—"

"—I think we can do the abridged version, Jocelyn." Master Secco hums, tugging at the wrist of his gloves. Jocelyn sighs, averting her gaze with a gentle shake of her head, but Master Secco simply continues, "The important part is, Arceus created twelve angels, and the twelve angels created the world. The names of the eight gods match with the eight youngest angels. There is no shattering of divinity."

You crumple your eyebrows. "What about the four elder angels?"

He shrugs. "The written records are incomplete."

This is why you don't like this religion stuff. "And the Pokémon? If Arceus never sacrificed his own divinity. . ."

Jocelyn nods. "Then the eight angels must have stolen their divinities, somehow."

You grimace. "And where is Arceus now? What happened to him?"

". . . The written records are incomplete," Jocelyn admits, echoing Master Secco's earlier words. "But we believe that He is alive, and whole, and working to undo everything that the eight angels have done to the world."

You stare at her. "All of these are just conjectures. You don't even have a clear doctrine. The eight Temples at least have the Sacrament of Initiation to back up their preaching. You're just a cult with a conspiracy theory."

Jocelyn opens her mouth, but Master Secco is faster. "We have proof," he says evenly. "I'll have to bring you back to Razzetti to show you, but we know that Mew, at the very least, was once just a mortal being. He didn't just manifest out of some broken piece of Arceus."

Your fists tremble, and you unclench them to wipe your palms against your pants. "So ROCKET and the Church of Arceus is the same. Is that it, and why the gesture is the same?"

"No," Master Secco says. "We connected with the Joys only recently, and neither of us are part of each other. We're just allies, so to speak. As a matter of fact, part of the purpose of this mission is to verify how much of their myths are actually valid. The gesture is related, but not in the way you think."

Click to shrink...

Extended scene.

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)

 

[wdango]

(Chapter Under Revision.)