Dagda found himself walking through a forest, some hunter green environment that was slightly muggy, a humid aura about the trees. His feet continued to carry him through the trees subconsciously, as if his body was moving on it's own. He wondered where this was, or what brought him here. He knew that he was dreaming, sure, but he wondered what part of his mind would dream up such a place.
Normally, his dreams were pleasant and filled with random thoughts of his realized. He dreamt about being an actor, about being in the Pokemon League Championship Cup, normally things relevant to his life. He couldn't remember the last time he was through a green forest. It must have been weeks, months even. Maybe since the time Atilla attacked him? He couldn't remember.
When he came to a clearing, he noticed that there was nothing there. No grass, trees or anything. It was as if this clearing, circular in shape, was from another reality, if not a missing piece of this one. It was rather unusual, and as Dagda walked through it, it was as if he was standing on air. It was unusual to him, and when he looked down, he couldn't see anything but pure darkness. The same thing when he looked up. A circular hole in the trees and the sky.
"Took you long enough to get here." he heard, a baritone voice that caught his attention, his body shifting defensively as he was approached. When he saw the form shuffling through the trees and closing in on him, he diffused. He felt oddly comfortable with the sight. He was being approached by a Grimmsnarl, one that felt very familiar to him.
This one was pure white. It was much different than the multi-colored demon he'd seen in the Wild Area on his way to Hammerlocke. White flesh, white hair, white eyes even. The only thing about this beast that wasn't white was the small black diamond shaped hole in it's chest, Dagda able to see the back of the forest through this creature's chest. It was odd, and yet, it didn't elicit a reaction out of the Halfling. "Dad?"
The white demon laughed, shaking his head as he dropped down, sitting in a cross legged position as if meditating. Dagda followed suit, the Pokemon simply taking a moment to stare at him. It was as if Dagda was being judged, something that he was honestly grateful for. Even if this was all a figment of his sleeping mind, he was waiting for this chance. To see what his Father thought of him.
"An actor? Really?"
Dagda found himself chuckling, his chest heaving with jovial laughter at the remark. His father was very light hearted, a stark contrast from the violent, deathly serious creature that Pops painted him as. Than again, Dagda was asleep and he was dead. He didn't really have a reason to be serious anymore. Although, being teased for his 'profession' was unexpected.
"The Lionhearts are a big inspiration to me. Especially Mr. Scar. He's really casual and aloof about being so strong." he said, and the demon nodded. He seemed to think for a moment before he spoke again. "And you idolize this strength?" he asked, and Dagda hummed. Did he?
Did he idolize Pops and Scar because they were strong? If so, why not idolize the entire family, and their extended family. Why not Heinreich either, or Miko? They were all very strong, but there had to be more to it than that. "I don't think it's the strength. I think it's the usage and application of their strength that inspires me." he explained, his father's ghost remaining silent as he thought it over.
"I idolize Pops' righteous ideals, and the fact that he has insurmountable power, and immense knowledge and experience to use it. With Mr. Scar it's…. different. I idolize his ideals and attitude. He's almost as strong as Pops, but with him, it's all happy fun and games. He's doing most of the same things, but he's doing it with a smile on his face while continuing to do what he loves. That's what I aspire to, Dad. I want to be strong without ending up a stick in the mud like Shere-Khan or a monster like Rose."
His father closed his eyes and inhaled at the mention of the Chairman's name. He nodded, processing the information as he opened his eyes, looking back to his son. "I'm glad to hear that. I'd hate for you to achieve your goals and become complacent. You have to uphold your ideals and maintain this… Kingdom of yours." he said, and Dagda chuckled. He was glad that he understood.
"I am a little concerned for your mind though. You are repeatedly poking, prodding and antagonizing the man indirectly responsible for the near genocide of Halflings country wide. Why do this?" he asked, and Dagda smiled.
"It's because I'm stronger than him. I have stronger, and more numerous allies than he, and more conviction. I have the resolve to put my life on the line, when he refuses to challenge me himself, while also hiding behind other Gym Leaders to prevent me from getting to Wyndon to take on the Champion Cup. He's a mastermind, a manipulative devil that rapes, murders, tortures, skins and even eats his victims, be they Halflings or children." he explained, inhaling.
"He doesn't target people like me because he's afraid. He's afraid of someone like me being able to stop him. That's why I provoke him. I put on a show in public. I took away his big moment of shaming and denouncing his adopted protege, his chosen one. I turned it into a public defense of Bede, and also a silent declaration of war."
His father nodded. The Grimmsnarl knew what Dagda was talking about. In his days, he wanted nothing more than to strike Rose down. Infact, he tried to urge Dagda on from the afterlife, egging him on over and over to strike down evil. If Dagda would have killed Rose right there at the mural, things would be so much different. But would they be better?
"Why do this when you did? You weren't even aware I existed, much less aware of your power." he inquired, trying to understand his son a little bit more. Dagda smiled, the white demon unable to look away from the scar traveling across the left side of his face, partially blinding him.
"Because I wanted to. I had been through far too much in that short span of time to back down. He was targeting, publicly humiliating, and mentally damaging someone I considered a friend. I simply used what I'd learned from Scar and challenged him. I took something from him, and he's been unstable ever since."
Ulquiorra found this rather surprising to hear. His son was far more calculating than he'd initially thought. He was also much more of an animal than he'd assumed. His desire to defeat Rose was completely human, the desire to see justice done and strike down evil for the greater good. However, his choice of words, and the negativity affecting someone he cared about was incredibly animalistic. It was more proof that he was a Halfling. The reasoning and intelligence of a human backing the base desires of an animal.
"So you're saying that you won this war the second you stepped up to him at the Mural?" he asked, rather amused at his son's incredible confidence. "Of course. Seeing the hatred and anger in his eyes when I told him that he couldn't get through me, couldn't stop me and my allies, all while I was holding Bede was all I needed to do to win. I'm just taking my time."
The demon began to laugh. With the way Dagda was explaining it, he was the one that initiated this, and he was the one dragging it out to his opponent's chagrin. It was rather evil of him almost, something that Ulquiorra found amusing given that he was a demonic Pokemon.
"Where'd my name come from?" Dagda asked, snapping the demon out of his thoughts as he looked to Dagda. It always made him curious, as some people were named for different things, but he couldn't ever figure out where his name came from. The demon hummed, running his three fingers along his chin, as if he was deep in thought trying to remember.
"I don't know what Yekaterin told you, but we always talked about different names. Names of old family members, our favorite characters from literature, even other Galarian historical figures. In the end, we kept coming back to one name from an old Galarian folktale. It was about some of the first settlers of the region. Some tales say that the ancestors of the first Kings, the Fairy King and the Fighting King were foreigners in search of a new land. They were a clan called the Tuatha, and their King was called Dagda."
"They were apparently a strong, cultured people, and they were the ones who cultivated the land and started building Galar before the Darkest Day. Eventually, the Tuatha grew enough, and combined with other settlers they welcomed, including a branch of the Hitoawa clan and their shaggy, Steel type Meowths, and they became the ancestors of the Galarians we know today. But it was all thanks to King Dagda, and his warm, welcoming smile and big heart."
"We decided to name you after someone that both of us idolized. He was a man that welcomed the friendship and intermingling of different races, cultures, beliefs and such. He never shunned Halflings, and many of the Tuatha were actually Halflings of varying kinds themselves. We had hoped that you would grow up to be like one of the Tuatha, someone that put an individual's worth before the labels that you could use to identify them."
Dagda smiled. He was glad to get an answer like that. He was happy to hear his father tell the short story, and to hear that his namesake was a kindhearted figure that aimed to do the same things he did. It was also rather amusing to Dagda to hear that his namesake had also had dealings with the Hitoawa, much like he did. It made him feel rather happy, and he found himself standing as he inhaled. He was feeling great about himself for some reason.
He looked back to where his father was to speak to him, but he was already gone, the forest slowly starting to fade as the whole world slowly became the empty void that the duo had sat on. It was as if the void was the missing piece of his father, and now that his spirit, his soul was satisfied with Dagda's growth and lifestyle, happy and proud of his goals and ambitions, the rest of him had finally faded away.
When Dagda awoke, he noticed land in front of him. He shook his head a little, blinking as he glanced to the sky, seeing that it was the early morning. He was still floating on the back of Otis, his body still sitting upright as he slept. Thankfully for Dagda, he could sit with his back straight overnight thanks to the fact that his body had accommodated itself for skeletal alteration from his therian form.
Otis was asleep, as evidenced by his inhaling and exhaling, soft patterned breaths that inflated his stomach a little. Bede was also fast asleep in Dagda's arms, and a light breeze blew as they neared the shore. Dagda looked over the hill, and he noticed a huge, steel building. It was almost like an airport hangar, but a bit less… open looking. As if it was a house with a flat roof.
He remembered something he'd heard in his younger days, and realized that this huge steel box was actually Spikemuth City. Spikemuth was much, much smaller than most towns and cities in Galar, and was normally only used for Piers' concerts, as he was a popular vocalist in the region. However, Dagda had heard that it had huge doors that were open at all times. He had heard that Piers' musik would be so loud that you'd be able to hear it from the Route Nine Tunnel. It was deathly silent right now, save for the lightly shifting waters.
He knew that Piers would refuse his Gym Challenge, but never in a million years did the Halfling thing that in order to obey Rose, Piers would lock down the entire city.
