Disclaimer: Alright people, listen up. I do not own Pokémon in any shape or form, and if you choose to believe so and try to sue me anyway, that's your own problem. I don't have money for you.
Summary: What happened to Cyrus at the end of Diamond/Pearl anyway? Well, if the book called "A Horrific Myth", found at Canalave Library is to be believed... (Warning: Contains violence/death)
Look not into the Pokémon's eyes.
In but an instant, you'll have no recollection of who you are.
Return home, but how? When there is nothing to remember?
It had happened to a random grunt first, who had mistakenly peered into the eyes of Uxie when the little being was thrashing around in its captive tank. His simple curiosity had led to his doom when he slipped away from the main briefing group who had helped capture the elusive Pokémon, and crept over to the three tanks containing the mythical Lake Trio. He peered through the thick glass at Mesprit, Azelf and finally, Uxie, all of whom were in agony at being forced to create the Red Chain.
Too late he heard Saturn's warning cries to move away from there, when Uxie heard his voice and opened its eyes to stare down at the human before it.
It was a shame, really. Cyrus himself had had plans for that particular grunt, for he had been next in line to become a new commander as a reward for his efforts in helping to capture the Pokémon Azelf. It was too bad that the promising young man had his mind completely wiped by looking into Uxie's eyes, for they had disposed of the grunt when they discovered that he could remember absolutely nothing at all. Uselessness was not a virtue that team Galactic wanted to exist in their new world, and what better time to practice their new regime than now, when Cyrus triumphantly dangled the fabled Red Chain above them in his hands?
Blood was shed later that very day, and Team Galactic could almost smell the fresh, unpolluted air of the new world that would soon be theirs, when their leader would summon and drag forth the mythical Dialga upon the top of the ancient Spear Pillar.
Dare not touch the Pokémon's body.
In but three short days, all emotions will drain away.
It had happened when Cyrus had grabbed Mesprit's tiny body and flung the little being into the captive tank before slamming the reinforced steel door shut behind it. The little creature had almost escaped due to Mar's incompetence, and the Pokémon was flitting here and there around the laboratory. Cyrus would have strangled Mars himself there and then had Mesprit not approached him at that very moment, with a playful grin as it tugged cheerfully at his locks of hair. The moment that Mesprit was close enough and tugging away at his hair, Cyrus had lunged at the trusting creature with a scream and almost crushed its tiny body in his haste to capture it again.
The moment he touched the tiny being and squeezed its fragile body in his huge hands, the tiny Pokémon squealed in pain as he flung it back into the tiny tank as if it were no more than a toy for his amusement. It was then that he felt colder than he had ever felt in his entire life, as the diminutive Pokémon stared back at him with cold, unfeeling eyes. Not only would what was left of his emotions, and, of course, his humanity, would drain away, so too would the rest of him.
There was no turning back at this point now. The damage was done the moment he had harmed Mesprit, although Cyrus did not know the true extent of the curse at that time…
Yet sure enough, three days later when all was prepared, and Cyrus was dragging forth the body of the ancient being Dialga from the portal in which it had peacefully slept since ancient times when it was first sealed away, he felt no remorse at its screams of pain, as the Pokémon struggled to get away and stop what he was commanding it to do. Yet it had no choice but to obey him and do as he commanded, as long as he possessed the fabled Red Chain…
As Dialga reared up into the thundery sky, beginning to create a new dimension in which Cyrus would rule supreme, they had returned, shattered the majestic Red Chain and, of course, his power over the creature.
And in the space of a single moment, Dialga was under his command no more. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished as they fled, leaving nobody save himself, a freed Dialga behind him, and before him the child who had stood up to him before, the only one who had defeated him before. It was their fault that he had lost control over Dialga, knowing it was the brat who had freed those accursed Pokémon who had shattered his hold over the Deity of Time.
He snarled and clutched his trusty Crobat's pokéball. He would have no qualms about killing that little brat if they lost this battle to him, and hunting down those three Pokémon again to make another Red Chain. He would kill them after he was done too, to prevent them from shattering the chain once more.
He WOULD become the ruler of the idyllic new world that he would force Dialga to craft for him, even if doing so would destroy this world first.
Above all, above all, harm not the Pokémon.
In a scant five days, the offender will grow immobile in entirety.
But the child had not lost to him. They had won, defeating even his most powerful Pokémon, Weavile. Then he limped away, cursing the brat and their triumphant Pokémon, swearing vengeance upon them all as he left, with his crestfallen commanders Saturn and Jupiter slinking behind him. He cursed them too, berating them for their weakness in losing to a mere child, and forced them away from him as he brooded to himself for a time in the dark, lonely cavern deep within Mount Coronet.
He should have had the three of them destroyed the moment he had managed to forge the Red Chain, really. If it were not for the tiniest fragment of pity he felt for harming Mesprit, who had only wanted to play with him even after he already caught it, he would have had them all butchered the moment they forged the chain for him. Instead he left them behind with that incompetent fool, Saturn, who had lost to the brat after they stormed his hideout. Then the child must have let them out, as they came to free Dialga once they sensed that the ancient deity was being summoned. He stood and clutched at one of his pokéballs, the faintest emotion of anger rising in his chest as he remembered the incident…
And then he suddenly stumbled, dropping the pokéball to the ground.
What was happening to his body?
Every movement he made seemed to drain more and more energy away from him. He had not noticed how difficult it was to move until now, having been far too caught up in his thoughts on what he planned to do for his next journey in capturing Azelf, Mesprit and Uxie again and summoning Dialga once more. A stabbing pain suddenly caught him in the chest as he tried to stand tall, the pain forcing him down to the ground. Sinking to his knees, Cyrus gently collapsed onto the dusty path within the dark mountain, too exhausted to move on. Too exhausted to call for help even, as he saw from the corner of his eyes his Weavile, who must have been freed from its pokéball when he dropped it several moments earlier.
It was then that Cyrus noticed that Weavile's claws were dripping with blood. His blood, in fact. So, it had not been exhaustion that caused him to fall, but his own Pokémon suddenly attacking him while he had been at his weakest. He would have chuckled at the irony of the situation had he the ability the laugh, and yet, he felt no fear as he saw the feral gleam within the Pokémon's bloodshot eyes as it begun to stalk towards his fallen body. Cyrus could see that his Pokémon was hungry, the way that its ribs were sticking out lightly, and knew that it had no love of its former master. Even though he had Weavile since it had been a young Sneasel, he had never treated any of his Pokémon with love, tenderness or care, only caring for the power they had and what they could do for him. If things had been different, perhaps Weavile would have been helping him now, searching for aid instead of purposely causing his demise…
But the Pokémon had no qualms about killing him at that moment, and Cyrus knew it.
It was fortunate that he could no longer feel pain, as the Pokémon suddenly struck at him again, this time burying its claws into his back. A loud crunch told him that Weavile had severed his spinal column, perhaps a few other bones as well, and was hastily beginning to pull out his innards from his back.
As the light begun to dim within his empty eyes, Cyrus briefly considered if it had all been worth it. The amount of time and money he had spent building up Team Galactic from its humble roots, spreading across the region of Sinnoh and accomplishing what few had ever done before, in capturing various Pokémon that were once considered to be mere legends, and dragged forth before him the ancient being, the legendary Deity of Time, Dialga. He had even commanded absolute power for perhaps just a few seconds, truly a God as he held Dialga tight with the Red Chain, and watched as a new universe began to unfold before his eyes. Until the Red Chain was shattered, that was.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, as he commanded Dialga to destroy this world and bring forth a new one, he watched as his new world begun to crumble away along with the mystical crimson chain, and watched as it all dissipated into nothingness. It was then he knew that as his new world was destroyed, so was his soul along with it.
Mercifully his end came swiftly, as Weavile hacked away with its claws one last time. The long, curved talons dipped almost tenderly inside the cavity it had made in his body, before plucking out the ragged remains of his still beating heart. He breathed a final breath, his eyesight fading as his respiration ceased… and he knew no more.
A small price to pay, perhaps, for having once known for the briefest of moments what it was like to have possessed absolute power...
End...
A/N: Uhh, yeah. Also, Fanfiction. Net is a bugger when uploading stuff.