Chapter 1: Chief of the Mountain

Atop the peaks of Transcendence, a giant mountain on which the psychic-types reside, a ruthless takeover was underway. Until recently, the area was a strong protectorate held under Zenith, a major guild that began fostering an industrial age a decade prior; in their place, another major guild, Genesis, was directing a campaign to undo all of their work. Zenith believed that their technology would improve the lives of everyone throughout their continent, while Genesis believed that Zenith's ambitions would devastate countless other guilds and their traditional way of life. Both guilds refuse to budge on reaching a compromise, and a major conflict between them seems imminent.

On one of the peaks, a Genesis chief and his three advisors watch as their incursion satisfyingly concludes; most of the pokémon under Zenith's banner had long dispersed. The chief, Belisario, was a kommo-o whose burly stature and gruff voice would make most Pokémon yield without question; his advisors - a midnight lycanroc (Crispus), a heatmor (Domitius), and an aegislash (Varius) - were no less formidable.

"Let us consider this day an important milestone." Belisario smiles. "Zenith has held control over this mountain for so long; I had nearly forgotten how beautiful it once was." He closes his eyes, reminiscing. "I still distinctly remember ascending the Empyreal Steps as a young hakamo-o. The snow was falling, glistening against the stunning auroras that painted the night sky; the landscape was mesmerizing, brimming with centuries of carefully-crafted artistry; and the pokémon, tough as always, motivated me to press on until the very end." His face then turns to morose. "Zenith had to taint this mountainside with their up-and-down contraptions." He glares at the distant lifts (wide enough to carry a snorlax) and clenches his fists; he was just about ready to leap off the edge and tear them down himself.

"Chief, I believe Zenith typically calls them... elevators?" Domitius notes, tilting his head as he puffs out an ember wisp.

"Fascinating. I hereby rename them: dismantled." Belisario remarks, turning around and closing his eyes. "At my sincerest courtesy."

"Chief! Chief!" A pair of cackling voices shout, running up from behind. "Check out this wagon we nabbed!" The two sneasel wrap one arm around each other's shoulders, winking as they proudly present their roughed-up prize; their grins couldn't have stretched any wider.

The wagon itself was constructed out of reinforced timber and draped with a thick, white cloth along three of its sides; its wheels were completely encased with a crimson-coated steel; protruding at its front was a long, steel lever, suitable (albeit awkward) for driving. Whoever designed this vehicle clearly didn't take accessibility into account, disregarding the preposterous notion of a caterie or a goldeen operating it (or Belisario for that matter).

"You two are such cuties~, but I wasn't born yesterday," says Crispus as he meticulously paws through his hair. "The Rapidash Livery pulls wagons all the time. It's nothing new~."

Varius isn't so sure about Crispus' lazy assessment. "Hmm? The reins are missing... and I've never seen a wagon with a handle inside it before..."

One of the sneasel chimes in. "Well, we fury-swiped it from those Zenith cowards, and they carry weird stuff around all the time, so -"

"Yeah! We ice-sharded those fools good, didn't we buddy?" The other guffaws, directing attention to the wagon's mutilated cover. "Check out those holes; they're all us!"

"Enough chattering." Belisario crosses his arms. "Domitius, inspect this contraband."

"On it!" Domitius rushes over to the wagon quicker than a munchlax charging into a perfect apple buffet; he then begins circling the vehicle, huffing out little balls of fire as he went, trying to smolder out its secrets.

"Sooo~, did you two dearies happen to come across any vaults as well?" Crispus questions, bending down and placing his paws over his knees.

"Vaults?" A sneasel replies. "What vaults?"

Crispus smirks cunningly, baring his sharp teeth. "That's where Zenith's been keeping their secrets, their enigmas, their... memoriiies~." He lets out a faint, passionate growl at the end.

The other sneasel nervously responds. "Err... w-we didn't find any, sir. W-we'll keep scouting out for them though!"

"Hmph, shameful~." Crispus huffs, standing tall once more and flicking his hair. "But don't beat yourselves over it, dark-types~. We'll find it, and we'll have plenty of fun once we do, hehehe~."

Suddenly, Domitius discovers a latch at the front of the demoralized wagon. "Intriguing, a secret compartment... w-what is that?"

There it lied, an electric engine stuffed inside! It could make its host travel almost as quickly as a sprinting blaziken and operate for almost a full day without recharging, not that Genesis would care; in fact, they seem repulsed by it.

Belisario was seething, struggling to comprehend the very idea of a self-propelling vehicle. "Is this an elaborate rouse? Do they truly intend to topple the Rapidash Livery too?" He hunkers down, pressing his hands against the sides of his head. "Were my efforts all in vain?"

"Chief! I mean no offense, but we must hold ourselves together!" Varius arose. "Zenith is certainly making progress, but as long as we continue to starve them of territory and resources, their dastardly efforts shall recede. We will preserve our continent's traditions!"

In a matter of seconds, Belisario calms down and resumes his stoic demeanor. "Yes... we will. Zenith may feign ignorance, but we know about their... residents." He stares off into the cloudy sky above. "They were neither born nor raised here; instead, they're celestial visitors from another world..." He then took a deep breath, thinking intensely about justice. "... and I intend to free them all from their mechanical prison."

"Chiiiiief!" A stressed voice shouts from high above. The group, upon looking to their right, notices a skarmory careening right towards them! The panicked skarmory sky-attacks directly into one of the poor sneasel, apologizing profusely for her carelessness. "The silvally! I-it escaped!"

"WHAT?" Belisario freaks out. "Oh those blasted... Crispus! Apprehend that beast! And Domitius, tend to the wounded!"

"I-I'll investigate the holding area, chief!" Varius insists, hovering over to the location where the silvally had broken free.

Genesis believed that their assault on Transcendence would mark the penultimate event that sealed their victory; unbeknownst to them, their actions that faithful day initiated another chain of events. No longer could Zenith and Genesis tolerate each other; no longer could one allow the other to persist in their modus operandi; and alas, no longer could the continent ignore their potential for utter destruction. In such a time of dire stakes, a hero must arise to quell the raging titans: a hero... with a fresh perspective.

Author's Notes

Well, that was my first chapter, and I'm very satisfied with how it turned out. I was originally going to publish it a few days earlier; but after reading through a ton of reviews and writing guides, it became very apparent to me that my previous draft was riddled with grammatical errors and other glaring issues. This chapter is still bound to contain flaws, of course, as first stories typically do. As examples: I'm slightly concerned that my narration might be too rigid or bland; Domitius and Varius might be lacking characterization or dialogue; and some areas might be lacking key information or clarification. Perhaps those aren't the only flaws, but I'll leave the reviewing to fresh eyes (and future-me if they come back to slaughter it).

Anyway, Vault of Connaissance is going to be a pretty short story; I believe it'll only last around 14 chapters, and there will only be 7 mystery dungeons. The meager length might seem disappointing; however, as a novice writer, I think keeping things short and sweet would be within my best interests.

Enjoy!