The night went on silently. Dagda's Pokemon moved independently for the first time in a while, not worried about their brother in arms. They found themselves blending in rather well.
However, it wasn't the same for Marko. He spent the rest of the night alone, wandering about, his mind clouded with doubts and worries. With his body injured and his claws being destroyed, he found himself remaining alone, laying against a tree, wallowing in sadness as the night went on.
Otis was much different. He grew familiar with everyone, from the random Pokemon doing construction to the few nocturnal Halflings. Ozzy spent the night with him, and the duo noticed one important factor. All of them, every single last Halfling in the village, bar Pops and his relatives, and Miko and the Chieftain, were children.
Boys and girls of varying ages both chronologically and physically. However, none of them were even as matured as Kenny, who looked to be about Dagda's age. They wondered this, and found themselves spending the night talking to a rather depressing child with pale skin and black hair.
"We're all orphans in a sense." he had said, casting his eyes to the sky. His name was Kai, and he was a Crobat Halfling, his pale skin and black hair not hiding the small, purple pairs of wings he had, or the gloomy attitude. "The Gods can't reach Galar. It's like it's own world. I hate it." he said, the two older Pokemon finding his attitude rather odd.
Another of the Halfling children, a Komala Halfling named Belphegor, was much more laid back about their scenario. "We're all special, man. Yeah we gotta hide, and our parent's are either dead or gave us up for our safety, but it's super cool that we're part Pokemon. Kai's just a party pooper." he said through half lidded eyes.
Ozzy and Otis found this region very odd. Both of them were initially born in another region, so coming to a world where who could even be allowed, along with what Pokemon were allowed, was greatly disheartening to them. They wished to change it, if only for these children.
Danzig found himself working with Petey, the duo helping with construction all through the night. They had run into Kenny, who explained to them that with Four Kings, meaning Pops, Mr. Felix, Loki and Draug, their excess energy would leak out and empower and fuel all of them, hence their lack of fatigue throughout the night and into the early morning.
However, all four Pokemon had one thing in common. While they all enjoyed their night, and the people they met and things they did, all of them had Marko on their mind. They knew that he wasn't taking his injury well, and that he'd disappeared. They also wondered how Dagda would take it. Dagda was the one who put him through all of those battles.
When Dagda awoke, he noticed a few things. Firstly, it was first light, so he hadn't slept too much. Second, he was in a bed that was barely big enough to fit him, as it belonged to a child, the room being loaned to him by the village Chieftain, who he remembered.
And finally, he felt heavy. When he glanced down, he noticed that Allister was laying on his chest, much like a child napping in it's mother's arms. Dagda looked to the ceiling, deciding not to disturb Allister, instead taking a little time to think.
He knew that his Pokemon had wandered off into the village, and yet he wasn't concerned. He felt incredibly safe here, and he knew no harm would befall anyone. Although, he couldn't help but wonder exactly what was happening with Marko. The Perrserker was a proud creature, a strong willed cat that would likely be crushed by his shattered claws.
He couldn't help but blame himself. He was the one so concerned with his act, and with getting through Opal to get here that he made a fatal error and overexerted his Pokemon. During the entire battle, no, during the entire gym, he hadn't even considered using another Pokemon. Marko was doing far too well, and Dagda let his guard down.
He cursed himself for it, frowning as he stared at the ceiling. There was a fleeting moment where he considered switching out Marko, or even using Dynamax as a last resort, but he remembered that when the moment came, he heard Evil's voice in his head.
He told him to relax, and to focus on taking his opponent out. He lost control of himself, and his inability to control his own emotions by himself cost him again. He was angry with himself, angry at the fact that he let some voice in his head dictate his decisions.
"Don't blame yourself." Dagda heard, blinking as he turned his head at the sound of Fairy's voice, the pink Dagda the other voice in his head. "How can't I? I let Evil take control and now my Pokemon is wounded and disfigured." he said, and Fairy sighed. "Evil was worried about you, just… not like he should've been." he said, scratching his head as he sat against the wall.
"We're almost like your instincts. Whenever you're against the wall or losing, he pops up in your head, because you subconsciously want to be stronger, want to be more violent." he said, and Dagda narrowed his eyes. There was no way that was a natural instinct of his, was there? He wasn't a violent person.
"You haven't noticed it, have you? When you get angry, when your aura flares, or your hair moves, or when your teeth grow? Those moments where you almost black out when Team Yell show up and go after you or someone you care about? That was all him." he said, and Dagda took a second. He couldn't argue otherwise.
Dagda always felt those rushes of inhuman emotion, of raw anger and of a love of battling. He assumed it was all part of his act, but was it really evil taking control? He shook his head, looking to Fairy. "If that's what Evil is for, than what do you do?" he asked, and Fairy smiled.
"I'm the nice one. Whenever you let Evil take control, I always try to uplift everyone else's spirits so they aren't put off by it. Of course, I can affect Halflings, too." he said, and Dagda blinked, glancing down to the small male sleeping on his chest. How exactly could these voices in his head do these things? Was Dagda in possession of multiple souls, or did he have a split personality?
"However, I can appear to you now because even though you don't really need us anymore, I can offer you advice and talk to you when you're worried. I came to tell you to not worry about Marko. He's very strong. He'll pull through." he said, and Dagda sighed, shaking his head.
"Are you two the reason I can understand my Pokemon in battle?" he asked, and he noticed that Fairy hesitated. He looked puzzled himself, as if he was unsure. "I feel like we can, but… something is holding us back. There's something in our way, in your way, passively holding back your… unique traits." he said, and Dagda narrowed his eyes. What exactly did that mean?
"The other reason I can appear to you is because of your protective instincts." Fairy said, as if to distract Dagda from the previous statement. "When you feel a deep connection to someone, like you do with Allister, who you call your 'little brother', I can appear to you because I represent the more loving and caring side of your personality. I'm also responsible for your charm, which is why so many people are enthralled with you." he said, and Dagda rolled his eyes.
"So Evil is the reason I win battles, and you're the reason people like me. What exactly did I accomplish on my own?" Dagda asked, his agitation making him forget the previous statement about the voices being held back. Fairy chuckled. "We are you. It just that after Atilla attacked you, your mind made us up because it couldn't do what it was supposed to. As I said before, something is holding us, as in you, back."
Marko heard the sound of a hammer meeting metal, a rhythmic sound that could only come from a forge. There was a smithy nearby, and he had to find it. Perhaps the smith was a master craftsman who could help him with his damaged arms. Someone had to be able to help him. He couldn't go around without his claws. They were a symbol of pride.
He came upon a small building, entering and feeling a rush of heat. He exhaled as he did, looking about. He noticed many small wares hanging about. Hammers and varying utensils lining the walls, even small weapons designed for varying sizes of person. Knives, small swords and rapiers and such, along with small axes. They were all well made, and made of varying materials.
"Forsooth, who beith the smith?" He called, the sound of the beating hammer stopping, a loud sigh coming through the small smithy as a large form began to walk out. The smith wasn't even human, his large, green body swollen and covered in sweat.
He glanced down, his bright yellow head turning down to the small feline. "That'd be me. Whose asking?" he asked, and Marko held up his damaged paws, the fingers burnt at the tips and the fur patchy about the hand. "I seek someone who can aid me in mine quest to repair mine shattered claws." he said.
The dragon smith looked at his hands, as if measuring them by eye and wondering exactly what material the claws were made out of. "You're that runt Heimdall's kid, aren't you?" he asked, and Marko hesitated. Who was this lizard to call his father a runt? He narrowed his eyes, a frown on his features. "Aye."
He nodded in turn, scratching his head with a hand that Marko could swore was metal on the inside, his Steel typing allowing him to detect metals in all areas. "My name's Packer. I'm the best smith in all eight regions, and I've been doing it longer than almost anyone, even your Father's trainer. But unfortunately, I can't help you." he said, and Marko frowned deeper.
He had heard of the Dracosmith, Packer. He was a legendary green Druddigon who was part of the raid on Nimbasa City centuries ago, an abused Pokemon that used to belong to a radical priest. To hear him say that he was unable to help was saddening, and hurt his soul and his pride.
"Is there anyone who could aid me? Perhaps a sorcerer?" he asked, and Packer shook his head. "I'm the best there is at stuff like this and unfortunately I can't help. You might want to start praying for divine intervention, Kid. Nothing short of a God can fix those mittens you got there."
When Allister awoke, he noticed that he was still incredibly warm, and very, very well rested. He'd woken up and fallen asleep a great many times in his decades alive, but this had to be one of the best night's sleep he'd gotten ever.
"Finally awake, huh?" he heard, blinking when he sat up, realizing that he slept on his friend, who looked at him with an odd, amused gaze, his clouded eye a brighter white than normal. It was almost like it could change color at will. Between it growing darker during his battle with Opal, and being lighter now, Allister wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
He almost jumped out of the bed, Dagda sitting up and stretching, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, shaking his head at a particularly loud snap his cramped body let out. "Y'know, I'm glad you're so light or I'd worry about my arm being done." he said, chuckling to himself as he rolled his shoulder.
They heard a knock at the door, a loud grunt from Dagda letting the person on the other side know that they could enter. When they did, Dagda found himself looking at a child, a bright, smiling creature who almost slithered in on a long tail.
"Morning!" he said, and Dagda bowed his head in greeting. This was Renji Forktongue, the adopted son of the village's chieftain, Zabi Thundervoice. He wore a pair of baggy shorts with a large hole cut out for his tail, and he seemed to be wearing replicas of the standard glove most gym leaders wore. Although, his shirt was what caught Dagda's eye.
Because on the shirt was a sight that he hadn't seem before. He saw himself and Danzig standing back to back in strong, powerful poses, with bold letters at the top and bottom reading 'Raging Demons'. This was a t-shirt with his face on it, and yet, he had no idea it was even produced.
"Uh… Nice shirt." he said, and Renji smiled, the excitable child happy as he watched Dagda stand up and continued to stretch. "Thanks! I'm your biggest fan!" he said, and Dagda looked down at him. Had he ever met a fan before? The character he played was a villain, a multi-faceted heel that used illegal Pokemon and slandered the Galar Region and Dynamax in it's entirety. Did people like that?
"Really? I've never met one of my fans before." he said, laughing to himself. Renji changed faces, tilting his round head and looking at Dagda with his snake like yellow eyes. "What do ya mean? We're all fans of yours." he said, and Dagda blinked. "Whose we?"
The wounded Perrserker continued his wandering. It was an aimless act, his mind blank, unable to come to terms with his broken claws. He couldn't face his Father like this, and he couldn't even bring himself to return to his brothers. This was his weakest point, and he wanted to remain alone until he could grow stronger. As he was now, he wasn't a warrior.
He could feel that sadness consuming him, and he looked to the sky, seeing the sun peeking through the black branches of Glimwood. It was a depressing sight, and he imagined that he'd make for a good cover image for some depressing book, or musik. He chuckled.
All of his brothers gained power, and all of them had gone through many things, but defeating a baker's dozen of Pokemon he had a type advantage against did him in? He shook his head. He hated thinking like this. He was supposed to be proud, a Pokemon Dagda publicly called the Berserker King.
As he wandered, he noticed that he continued to hear noises. They were rhythmic, and they were deep. He couldn't be sure, but he swore he heard a deep voice, a baritone, opera like voice singing into the trees. He tried to follow it, but he couldn't find it. It was like it was an illusion.
Was this it? Had he neglected his wounds too much, and this was some divine escort into the afterlife? Was the creature known as The Berserker King, the Strongest Steel Type Pokemon in Galar, Marko Heimdallson, son of Heimdall of Nine Mothers, truly going to be known as the man who died because of a cake? He hated it.
He continued his stumbling, his walk finally bringing him in front of a small hut, seeing a being standing within in an apron, bringing a short handled hammer down upon an anvil. What was this creature?
This creature looked almost completely human, save for it's short height and immense bulk. His eyes, which focused on the metal he was forging, were bright, and burnt like a furnace themselves. His body was covered in countless scars, wounds that told Marko that this being was a warrior.
He approached, seeing the being look to him, casting the metal he was forging with a wave of his massive arm, the hammer moving on it's own as the weapon began to forge itself. He walked over to Marko, who hesitated in the sight of this being.
How strong was he? Could he destroy a building? No. A town? No. Far more. He could tell from the veins rising to the surface of his sweaty arms that those broad fists were uncontestable. Planets themselves would fall before them.
"Forsooth. You are what passes for a Viking in this time?" he asked, his voice carrying a weight that Marko couldn't describe. He felt compelled, dropping to one knee and bowing his head. "Aye. I am Marko Heimdallson." he said, and the being nodded to him. "I know who and what you are. Rise." he said, and Marko listened.
"Show me." he said, and Marko blinked, hesitating before lifting his destroyed hands, the being looking at them for mere moments. "You wish to fix this land? To right the wrongs committed by those responsible so that all might be treated equally, and only one's strength can affect their standing?" he asked, and Marko steeled himself before he nodded.
The being beamed, a broad grin that revealed shimmering white teeth beneath his braided beard. "Well then, young Warrior. Show me that resolve. Allow me to forge your very desires into claws of justice, claws like those of my brother."
Dagda blinked. The group he met was very… unique. They numbered few, but he noticed that they were all children, and all Halflings. They introduced themselves one by one, and Dagda found each introduction as fascinating as the last.
"Nice to meet ya. Big fan." he heard, shaking a small hand, a short boy with a lazy, smiling face and a pillow in his other hand greeting him. He too wore a T-shirt with Dagda on it, a picture of him standing with his arms crossed, from right before he sent out Ozzy against Kabu. This was Belphegor Meitenkun, also known as Bel, a boy whose mother was a Komala Halfling.
"Glad to meet you before I die. Guess the Gods do exist." he heard next, a pale skinned boy with four small wings greeting him with a slight smile, wearing the same shirt as Bel. This was Kai Murcielago, a boy whose father was a Crobat.
And the last one was a small, quiet girl with white hair. She wore a hood, and Dagda learned that her name was Azaroth Goetia, and that her mother was a Hatterene. The girl wore the massive hood and a matching cloak because it was something that her mother did, wearing her hair like a larger body. She didn't speak much, but Dagda could tell that she was a fan of his, as evidenced by the necklace she wore, which was of Ozzy's face.
"You got a lot of fans, Dagda! It's not just us. A lot of people all over the world are fans of yours. Just ask Mr. Felix." Renji said, and Dagda smiled. He was glad to see that even children enjoyed his hard work. It made him feel happy, and reminded him that there were at least seven other regions of people who weren't part of whatever was wrong with Galar.
"So you met your Fanclub, huh?" Dagda heard, turning to see Pops walking up, cracking his neck as he sent off a pair of Machamp with a glance. Dagda smiled, nodding. "It's really nice to have fans." he said, and Pops laughed.
"I'll say. Makes things a lot easier when people know you." he mused, more to himself. He looked to the children, who all seemed happy to see him as well. "I came over because I normally tell the kids some fantastic story around this time, being as old as I am." he said, and Dagda blinked, noticing that the kids seemed to perk up, even Kai.
Renji sat on his tail, Kai wrapped his wings around himself, Azaroth swayed over, and Bel sat with his pillow clutched tight. Dagda and Allister looked to each other before shrugging, choosing to sit with the children to hear a tale told by the old, bearded man.
"Now, listen closely children, because this tale isn't about me. This is a tale I was told recently by a trainer who was around before Leon. A tale about one of the strongest Pokemon to ever walk through Galar."