As the duo continued to travel Route Eight, Dagda found himself feeling rather positive. The group moved as one huge convoy, the three Pokemon Bede agreed to take in finding it rather surprising that they'd be taken in by such a strong looking group.
The Golett, which Dagda's friend had taken to calling Sandalphon, or Sandie for short, found himself rather comfortable in the presence of the larger Pokemon. At least he'd be safe from his pink brother, the unusually relaxed and calculating Szayel.
The Falinks had taken to Gorias, marching after him like they were his soldiers. They were called Bene Elohim, or Benny for short. Dagda liked that, barring the already named Szayel, all of Bede's Pokemon were given names from the Arcean Bible, a book of the deeds and legends of the God he was raised to believe in.
Although, he couldn't get his mind off of one thing. Despite how much fun they had as they traveled the northern edges of the route, and entered an odd path that was incredibly chilly in comparison to the almost tropical route to the south, Dagda was worried about his friend.
He wondered what laid beneath his jacket, beneath his undersuit. Were there scars? Discolored flesh from wounds? Bruises fresh enough to be from the same day or day before they met at the mural? All of these questions almost paranoid Dagda, who felt somewhere between worried for his friend and angered that Rose was still alive.
He had to tolerate it though. With Rose growing more, and more, and more paranoid and afraid himself, Dagda had the upper hand. He was tormenting the devil, driving him up a wall with his mere existence and defiance. Which is why he decided that day, when they reached Circhester by time the sun was at it's highest point, Dagda decided he wanted to relax.
His mind traveled to his friend, and he wanted to try and get closer to his partner, learn what atrocities Rose had honestly committed. "Why don't we let everyone rest for a while and go shopping?" he asked, and the Pokemon all seemed rather pleased with that statement, especially Otis, who found climbing up and down the ladders of the route both exhausting and embarrassing.
With the Pokemon in their Pokeballs, the duo headed northeast, towards a local clothing store that seemed to be rather high end. Of course, with Dagda having wealth fueled by Scar Lionheart, it was just another store to him. He liked that thought. When they entered, Dagda found the air rather pleasant, the canned musik playing in the store some seasonal song that one would hum along to.
The air of the store began to uplift his partner as well, who he could tell enjoyed shopping. Dagda began to browse, looking for something slightly warmer, as he assumed the northern reaches of the region would be rather cold. Sure, he could just manipulate his hair until he was warm, but where would be the fun in that?
He noticed a small rack of leather jackets, something that matched his ideal aesthetic rather well, remembering a play or two where Scar and his actors played a gang of bikers, a comedic tale about not judging a book by it's cover. He looked to one of them that had an interesting glossy look to it, and he reached his hand out, and touched it.
He hesitated when he did, because for some reason… it didn't feel right. The material felt a little too moist almost, and the texture was unlike any leather he'd ever worn or handled in his life. The scent was even slightly different, and he couldn't really tell what the difference was.
Then, he decided to test the material. He glanced about, noticing no employees in the immediate area. He lit his right hand aflame with Fire Punch, and he noticed the strangest thing.
For some odd reason, the leather didn't burn. It was as if it was fire resistant. That wasn't possible, was it? He checked the tag, noticing that the tag had the Macros Cosmos logo, something that seemed rather odd for a piece of clothing. Dagda frowned, his left hand covered in ice, Dagda noticing that the leather didn't seem to freeze either.
Did a clothing company under Rose's broad umbrella have some kind of unusual leather that was weather resistant? What kind of leather could do that? What would you have make the clothing out of to make it resistant to both fire and ice? Dagda hesitated, a chill running down his spine at a horrifying thought.
He shot electricity through the sleeve of the jacket, seeing it almost light up, as if the shock was something that wasn't natural for it, something it wasn't meant to handle. Dagda felt his mind blank for a split second when he realized that his hunch was correct.
The question wasn't 'what' the leather was made out of. It was 'who'.
Dagda could tell in this instant that this jacket, and likely all of the jackets on the rack, were made from skin, the skin and flesh of a Water type Halfling. Dagda inhaled, choosing to walk out of the store, standing in the cold air to calm himself while Bede finished shopping.
"Dagda? I'm glad you finally got here." he heard, blinking when he looked up to see Allister approaching. Dagda smiled to his small friend. waving to him. He noticed that Allister wasn't alone.
The woman with him was a heavyset woman, and slightly older. She had a rather pleasant shape and figure for a woman of her age, and Dagda could tell that she'd had multiple children. "Good to see you, Lil Bro. Who's your friend?" he asked, and Allister smiled, looking up to the woman. Dagda noticed that Allister wasn't wearing his mask, more proof of his growth.
"I'm Melony. I'm the former Circhester Gym Leader. Until a few weeks ago of course." she said, and Dagda tilted his head. He did feel like he knew who the woman was. Her former position must have been something Dagda was aware of and had just forgotten. "What happened? Did you retire?" he asked, and the woman sighed.
"Not willingly. You see, my oldest son, Gordie, is very, very eager to prove himself to people. He wants to show children that he's a role model and show the ladies to look past his portly body. So when the Chairman made him an offer to… usurp me, he couldn't refuse." she said, and Dagda frowned slightly.
"Usurp seems like a strong word, Ma'am." he noted, and she sighed. "He's my son, my baby, my oldest, but he's doing the wrong thing. I can tell that you were kind of angry before we showed up. You noticed that rack of jackets, didn't you?" she noticed, and Dagda blinked, nodding.
Melony frowned, she didn't seem happy at all. "Ever since Gordie took my spot, the town has been awful. There's been multiple kidnappings, and that rack of jackets started appearing a week or so ago. And nothing's been the same at home, either. Gordie's been out of control, and his siblings are refusing to behave." she said, and Dagda frowned.
So Rose was behind this as well. He put a subservient gym leader in place so that he could sell his abominations, and he swore he heard about kidnappings. As in children, the kind of being that Rose loved to prey on. Dagda felt his hands flex, and Allister picked up on this. "Gordie's letting Rose do whatever he wants here, isn't he?" Dagda asked.
The oddest thing began to happen. The hairs along his forearms began to change color, turning a stark, divine white color that almost began to radiate in the sunlight. Melony nodded. "I… I love my son more than anything, but I hate seeing what's happened to our home since he was put into power." she said, and Dagda inhaled, breathing slowly as his body began to relax slowly. "I will save Circhester. This I promise."
When Bede emerged from the store with a smile, he found himself rather surprised to see Dagda talking to multiple gym leaders. Dagda cast him a smile, glancing between his three allies. "Madam Melony, could you do me a favor and help me and my partner find a place for the night? I need to make a few phone calls and wait for a few friends before I defeat Gordie." he said, casting a glance to Bede, who seemed to understand.
Dagda wasn't happy right now, and he didn't want his friend to see that angry, dark side of him. The smart, motherly trainer smiled as she began chatting, leading Bede off somewhere with a wink to Dagda, leaving the demon alone with the Halfling he called his 'Little Brother'.
"The Chairman's trainer?" Allister asked, a slightly bitter tone in his voice. Dagda smiled, jabbing his chin to get Allister to follow him as he started to walk. "Jackpot, right?" he said jokingly, and Allister sighed. He knew that his friend was infallible, and that he'd have a quip or remark to respond to everything. "He's dangerous you know. Rose could send people after you that could hurt you." he said, worrying for Dagda's safety.
Dagda smiled, an odd look that was half unnerving, and half comforting. "He already has. Why don't you have someone look off the cliffs of Stow on Side for their bodies?" he asked, and Allister sighed. "Just be careful Dagda. You're my Brother." he said, and Dagda felt himself smile, uplifted by that statement.
Although, it didn't last very long. His crescent shaped ears picked up on a noise, a panicked kind of sound that drew his eyes down a small street to an unmarked van. He noticed that there were was a man standing by it, almost barking at another man who was in a small house.
Allister could see the look in Dagda's eyes, and he sighed. Dagda continued approaching, slowly, quietly. He began to recognize the man, his facepaint and odd garb unmistakable. It was Team Yell. Although… this man was different.
Instead of the obnoxious fan of Marnie, this man seemed to be incredibly competent, and he wore a much different pair of high end shoes. It was like he was from a branch of the group, a much more calculated, actually evil group. He blinked when he realized how close he'd gotten, choosing to hold his position and listen with his inhuman ears.
"Hurry up! We can't get caught or Rose will have our heads!" he shouted, and he noticed another man pull something in a large bag and throw it in the back of the van. Dagda felt his body move on it's own, his feet carrying him closer, and closer to the van. Allister could only watch. This wasn't Dagda, the 'Blooming Demon'. This was Dagda, the 'Dark Messiah'.
"Afternoon fellas!" Dagda said, the men looking to him, recognizing him from not only his gym battles, but the hit list that Rose gave to all of his men. If he was here, then Rose's primary target, the young man named Bede, would be here as well. They needed to get the fluffy haired boy's location out of this one. They slowly began to approach him, surrounding him step by step.
"Afternoon young man! What is a guy as important as you doing walking around in broad daylight?" one of the men asked, and Dagda smiled. "I was just wondering what you fine men were up to. You seem to be in such a rush. Is there any way that I can assist you gentlemen?" he asked, and one of the men smiled.
He swung his arm around Dagda's shoulder, smiling as he began to breath on Dagda's neck, something the demon had no outward reaction to. "You could always be a good little guy and tell us where your friend is, y'know, the fluffy haired one." he said, and Dagda smiled.
"Bede? My lovely partner is with the former gym leader, Melony. Why do you ask?" he wondered, sounding completely ignorant and oblivious to the man on the other side of him, who began pulling a knife from his pocket.
The man with Dagda in his grasp smiled. "Well… y'see, Rose has someone specific directions. If we bring him Bede, and… if you'd be so kind as to join your little boyfriend, we'd be happy to escort you to Rose directly. I can only imagine what you want to say to him." he said, and Dagda hummed, that same childish, oblivious look on his face.
The other man silently lunged, aiming to bury his knife into Dagda's ribs, only for the blade to snap off against a layer of dense, muscle like hair. Dagda began to chuckle, his chuckles rising to a laugh.
"Do me a favor and tell the guys from Stow on Side that I have no hard feelings, alright?" he asked, and the men hesitated as tendrils of muscular, flesh like hair shot out of Dagda like a symbiote, ensnaring them as he began to drag them out of the light and into the small, dark house.
With the door shut behind them, Dagda began to smile as he tossed them into the nearest wall. He continued to laugh, the men stumbling and struggling to retreat and come together to face the demon before them. Dagda shook his head.
"Do you know what happens when you touch something of mine?" he asked, the men remaining hesitant and almost fearful. Dagda rolled his neck, his glimmering lavender eye resting upon them like the gaze of an unholy beast. "I take away your fingers. However… do you know what happens when you speak of giving something of mine to Rose?" he asked.
One of the men shot out, lunging for Dagda in fear, the scent of his brain's dopamine and adrenaline hitting Dagda's nostrils. Dagda caught the man by the face with a hand, almost shimmering white hairs wrapping around and encasing his skull as the second man screamed in horror at the sound of a sickening crunching and squelching sound.
Dagda cast the lifeless form away from him, approaching the second man and sighing. "See… I can tell that you're curious. What is he? How can he do all of this? Well, I can tell you that it's alright. You don't have to ask anymore questions. Just close your eyes and think about the way Galar is going to look as the Kingdom of Dagda." he said, the man's fear overwhelming him.
He shot forward, his body unable to even begin shifting and turning to throw a kick or a punch in self defense before two fingers found their way into his throat, the demon driving him to the ground as he continued to choke and choke the life from the man.
"Can you hear it, my friend?" Dagda asked, the man struggling for his life confused for a split second. What was he talking about? There wasn't any noise besides his own choking and sputtering. Although, he felt like he could hear something. It was an odd sound, the kind of thing you wouldn't hear in broad daylight in an empty, dark house in the north.
It was the sound of a trumpet.
Dagda smiled, fleshlike tendrils of hair traveling down the man's throat and into his body, skewering his heart and stopping his struggle immediately. Dagda rose up, realizing that his character was perfected, his eyes glancing to the ceiling. The Dark Messiah was continuing his metamorphosis. He had figured out what and who he was, and now he was building his strength with cruel act after act.
The sound he heard was a divine acknowledgment. Proof that even the Gods who allowed him to save the region himself were proud of his growth, proud that he was the one who would continue the tradition of great warriors, ones who brandish the blade of righteous evil at those who hold the world back.
