The Spear Pillar, Sinnoh.
"Do what you must do," the young but obscure voice said to the team.
A rugged cap and fallen shoulders hid his anxiousness. He wore dark eyes and a black coat: things that he had quickly grown tired of. His outfit had brown capri pants, a recent addition.
An empty belt was set on the pants; no pokeball had ever been set there.
The pokemon sprung into action. They were a diverse group. It was a swampert who took the lead, leaping onto an unfortunate golbat, and landing with the force of an earthquake. A gardevoir appeared to his side, deflecting an energy ball.
Sand was summoned at the enemy by a flygon. There was a swalot at the back, doing... something. A luxray charged, with a galvantula riding atop. The last teammate, a skarmory, was anxiously guarding the already defeated grunts.
He had another duty to complete. His job demanded him to be an actor foremost, but he was an illusionist by nature.
That is to say, the 'trainer' was but a distraction.
He meandered, invisible to eyes, while the sound of air slashes, crackling thunderbolts and dull hits filled the air. He had only taken a glance back, unwilling to resist the searing gaze which the gardevoir immediately gave him.
He jumped, imbuing his arm with dark energy.
The enemy reacted too late; he was already on his way to the second target. His trajectory was faint, but noticeable as a dark trail of wispy energy. A scarce brush against the red crystal was enough to sever Cyrus's control over Uxie. She began to fall from the pillar unceremoniously.
A gengar noticed. He fired a focus blast.
A dark pulse made his presence known to everyone. He had propelled himself mid air with his attack, evading a dead center hit. The momentum sent him spinning, losing all semblance of grace, towards the last member of the lake trio.
The tackle, despite being unintended, was effective. They both fell on the floor; Azelf no longer shining a sickly red.
All eyes were on him. There was a moment of stupefaction; he had done it. Then, he spent precious seconds recalling what had to follow.
Something has to happen, right?
Realizing his stupidity, he tried applying an illusion, only to find that some lousy pokemon had used miracle eye. The situation looked bleak: his 'teammates' were busy dealing with grunts. Of the lake trio, only Mesprit had begun to stir. Worse of all, Dialga and Palka were still bound by the red chains, and they were looking at him with murderous eyes.
"Impressive," Cyrus said.
Zoroark was glad, if only for a second, that this villain had the tendency to brood over silly things that he didn't really care about.
"A stratagem well played," he said. "Albeit based on incorrect assumptions." He extended his arm towards the time and space dragons. "Observe."
Cyrus closed his eyes; it was but a thought: A world free from strife, will and purpose.
Dialga and Palka struggled for a second. The gem on Cyrus' glove shone, and they complied. They roared in pain, energy swelling from their core. Beams sprouted from them, coalescing in the middle of the room. After the light show ended, a portal stood there, growing.
"Pointless." Cyrus turned around, raising his voice. "Pointless and pathetic. Betraying your own ideals, trainer? I could care less about them, but it shows the futility and hypocrisy of spirit."
No voice answered.
Zoroark almost laughed; it was the result of desperation and perceived irony. Five feet to his right, Mesprit awoke. She looked as lost and helpless as he was.
Cyrus turned to him. "Now, I almost pity you, rare pokemon, for having such a cowardly trainer. However, anything which stands against my perfect world is to be removed." He cast his hand at Dialga.
"Roar of time, erase it."
...
Several things that should not have happened, happened. Fate had once been broken by an outside force, causing the eventual deaths of those who would have prevented many disasters.
Now, by another mysterious happenstance, another chance was given.
The portal convulsed. In the span of 845 microseconds, a stray wormhole became latched on to it. Normally intangible as phenomena of higher dimensions, they gravitate towards spatial instabilities. When they reach each other, they manifest in our conventional space-time.
From the portal, something was shot with record breaking speed. Dialga was able to perceive it, but could not react fast enough to avoid the monster of a headbutt that came thereafter. It was only his legendary status and steel typing that prevented anything more than a concussion.
The red chains rattled, but they refused to give. Instead, Dialga twirled midair, barely conscious.
Mesprit's eyes widened, finding an opportunity. She proceeded to tell the Zoroark, but he was already gone, heading towards Dialga.
"Cover your sisters," said a whisper. Mesprit obliged.
Cyrus eyed the still rotating Dialga, and the surrounding area. His glove remained alight, but a small flicker could be perceived.
"Truly fascinating," said Cyrus, "Your wit is remarkable-" He stopped, noticing a change in the atmosphere. He perceived sudden silence, as if the battle had ended.
No party had been defeated. Zoroark's team had quickly receded back to the entrance, to the confusion of Team Galactic. It wasn't a tactical retreat.
A loud, loud, guttural cacophony shaked everyone. For those who were not instantly knocked out, the air became unbreathable.
Swalot had used belch after stockpiling for minutes. The surviving poison types rushed towards him, many being zubats.
Luxray threw Galvantula. She soared, still charging. Discharge.The enemy fainted.
We won?
Cyrus was nonplussed; he was surrounded by a shimmering barrier. "Clever," he muttered. "Palkia," he promptly added.
Palkia aimed, but it was further back than expected. Cyrus had ordered to blast them all.
Mesprit sprung up. She intercepted the attack with protect before it could fry both ally and enemies. She struggled, but her shield held firm.
"Boss!?" were some of the shouts of Cyrus' entourage.
"None of you can see it?" Cyrus said, moving closer to the portal. "You all are the same, tainted, unfit for the new perfect world."
"A world free from emotion, will and-"
Simeone tapped Cyrus' shoulder.
"Hey, um, lead singer? Can you tell me what's going on?" said the plain voice. He was a bald man in white and blue striped pajamas."I was looking for something at my old house and there was this sudden borehole. Sorry for interrupting your, er, rehearsal."
The leader of Team Galactic took a breath. Then, he stepped away from the man whose face was as emotionless as his.
There was no time to digress, though. Cyrus had ran out of patience. "Kill him, whoever he is."
Palkia's maw glowed.
…
What!?
Zoroark could not believe his own eyes. He didn't see the hairless half-wit move. He had suddenly appeared in front of Palkia. Then, defying all sense, he had hit space manifest with explosive force. The chains were broken and said legendary was now sailing through the air, possibly awaiting rest at the base of mount Coronet.
"What!?" Cyrus' visage cracked. "No!"
The bald man reacted meekly despite the previous death threat. "Aah. It was one of your props, isn't it? I didn't hit it too hard, I think. I mean, it looked strong, but it was probably just visual effects. Uh,"
Cyrus was having no more of this nonsense. He hurriedly ran and dove into the portal. It vanished a second after.
"Okay."
"Mes?" said a groggy Azelf. "Am I missing something?"
"No, I'm as confused as you," said Mesprit.
There was silence until the chains on Dialga dissolved into nothing. Without their power source, Zoroark could slowly extinguish their energy.
The deal was now complete, time to hightail it.
"Stop now, dark type." Palkia had used telepathy. Zoroark hated miracle eye.
Oh no.
Palkia got up. "All of you pests, I'll see about your irremissible crimes later," he assaulted the minds of team Galactic. He teleported them somewhere.
"I'll make this quick, because I don't want to be here when Giratina arrives. There's no doubt she will arrive."
"ARE YOU BEYOND INCOMPETENT!?" he shouted. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PREVENT THIS FROM HAPPENING!"
"Well-" The team was prudent enough to suppress the dissident Galvantula. None had to die today, no matter how myopic was the one addressing them. They, Palkia and Dialga, had long ago dismissed the warnings.
"SUCH IDIOCY! EVEN FROM YOU." The shouting had woken up Uxie and Azelf, not from sleep, but from befuddled contemplation.
"AND, AND, YOU!" he turned to the bald man. "You are not even understanding me, do you?"
The only thing Saitama, the bald man, was hearing was similar to: "DIALGA! DIALGA! DIAL! GA!" Thus, when he was addressed, he didn't know he was being addressed.
"I cannot even comprehend my own feelings because of you. I feel burning ire, utter confusion, and some tiny, tiny bit of gratitude. You saved this failure of a mission. Without you, the world would be no more. Yet, I feel dumber each second I try to reason about you. You were not contacted to aid, isn't it? I suppose I can forgive your ignorance. Still..."
"WHAT IN THE UNIVERSE TOLD YOU HIT US?" he said and telepated simultaneously.
Saitama brought his left index finger to one of his ears. "Um, where is everyone?" Saitama ignored the raging time dragon. "I think your animatronics are malfunctioning!"
Dialga sighed, the man was too dull to understand any elaborate insult. "It is I that is talking to you. Dialga, Lord of Time, the legendary dragon looking at you, or are you too stupid to understand."
"Hey!" he replied. He took a look at the legendary dragon. The breathing, growling, very much alive dragon.
"Ah! You look kind of like a monster. At first I thought you were the type of robot used in movies. Sorry, then, for punching your, uh, brother?"
Seeing no confirmation, he continued, "I don't remember hitting you, though."
"You crashed onto me with the force of a meteoroid."
"Ah, so it was that," Saitama said. "I still don't think it was my fault, but I guess I owe you an apology. I-"
"Hmph, enough. Must cut the talk here." Dialga's eyes briefly closed. "Time has run out, but not quite." An smile made its way onto Dialga. He looked at Zoroark.
Why must this happen to me?
"Your mission has not finished. You both, incompetent leader and unwelcome buffon, will see to prevent this from happening in the first place," Dailga said. Swirling energy appeared around Saitama and Zoroark.
"Good luck."
"What-" Saitama had tried to say.
In a flash, they were gone.
"If you don't want to join them, leave now."
The author's notes: Comments are encouraged. If you must critique, let this be known: It was a pain to write this introduction, but the concept I wish to develop requires a backstory. The author is no native english speaker and may abuse/deform some syntax structures. Want to compile a list of misspellings, comma splices, missing connectors, and such? The writer begs you: do it by private messaging.
Want to ramble on how misrepresented is some pokemon? The author shares this sentiment. Preferably, do it politely.
There will be no webcomic spoilers for those who have read the One-Punch-Man manga.
This story stemmed from the following idea: There are stories of trainers becoming pokemon. There are stories about Pokemon becoming trainers. What about both, but not quite? The hero already has the power to punch mountains. Why not use some illusions, only for the sake of convenience?
That, and this is the first OPM x Pokémon crossover on this site.
There will be many side characters (canon and original) and side plot threads. Unless readers (and the author) like them, they will not be the focus. Disclaimer: I know more about the Pokemon game than the anime.
Italics may be used for emphasis, telepathy (within quotes) or tought. Ambiguity is, most of the time, intended.
Salutations.