Eight days later...

The Rorians had given the Hisuians many fine gifts from their ships, as tokens of goodwill. Many tonnes of gold, silver, and precious jewels and other artifacts were given, and strange fruits that no one in Hisui has ever seen, 'lemons,' 'oranges,' 'pineapples,' and many delicious edibles. Even some strange Pokémon were given to the Hisuian people, like a strange creature that the Logarians called a Salamance.

Rei had asked Berothrim about how they would sail back to the south, and how far it would be to reach Roria.

"Roria lies over the Girdle of the Earth, about three thousand leagues from here. Do not be dismayed! Even though the winds are not in our favor, we have other methods of crossing the Great Sea..."

Since the Logarians did speak the same language, Kamado questioned a few of them to see if they knew anything about the roots of the mode of speech they used, and Logarian history in general.

"I do not know much of our roots," One had said." After the nations were torn asunder at the Star-Tower of Babel. Perhaps since we pay homage to the Original One, we have been freed from the curse of the confusion of speech. We may speak the first language, but not know it, as both of our peoples branched away from each other long ago."

A few Rorians had incredible stories and tales of the unknown parts of the world, both terrifying and wonderful, strange yet fascinating. They described the sights of the Alolan Islands, and the great Sky Tower of the Draconids, a Wonder of the World. With pride they told of Atun-Kaah, the capital of the Logarian Empire, a city built on the slopes of the Frosveil Mountains and in the deep caverns of the second earth. Rei heard the legend of the heros of Truth and Ideals, the duel between the Enemy and Palkia at the beginning of the Empire, and many more stories which he decided to to wait to hear on the long journey.

The fleet was prepared with enough rations to bring everyone on a return journey, although over a third of the Logarians and Southmen said that they would stay in Hisui for a season for any reason that Berothrim deemed acceptable.

At the port of the southern havens, the Golden Company boarded the Reshiram, the capital ship named after the legendary elohim of Truth. It was actually smaller than Rei thought it was from a distance, although it was beautifully crafted, the fastest vessel in the sea. He noticed that the sails had not been hoised, even when it was time to go into the south. Rei's father, who had deigned to go, saw this as well and asked Berothrim if the proper procedure for a voyage was different in Logaria.

Berothrim looked into the salty sea that lapped at the sides of the Reshiram, and Rei gazed where his attention was focused. A dark shape under the waves resembled a large fish, but was too irregularly proportioned to be any fish that Rei had seen. It was likely a Pokémon, one that Rei had no knowledge of.

"There are four of these certain Pokémon tied to the ship with steel-haired cords. Once we set sail, you will see what our ancient methods of travel provide. As such, we ought to be departing quite soon, if everyone has given parting words to all."

Since all of the sailors were ready to depart, and the Hisuians had all made farewell to each other, and had a final exchanging of gifts, the Logarian fleet started to move into the glimmering sea. The sailors rowed great oars, ponderously cutting through the waves into the south,

Once the port was visibly smaller, Berothrim hoisted a signal flag upon the mast. The other ship's watchman saw this, and readied their own crew and Pokémon for whatever Berothrim had wished.

Four Pokemon surfaced from the sea beside each of the five ships, lobster-like beings with a obscenely large right claw. There was a momentary sucking sound coming from the water around the Pokémon...

...then the fleet flew at a speed Rei thought completely impossible. Some unprepared native Hisuians flew back or stumbled, completely shocked by the force of the water jets that the Pokémon were launching from the back of their colassial pincers.

After Rei had steadied himself, Berothrim told him what the Pokémon were.

"Clawitzer! They can shoot compressed water out of the backs of their claws at incredible speeds. We are going at a speed that would simply be unattainable otherwise, but our Pokémon are the finest in the Logarian army! We will reach Roria in a month, since the trade winds will be in our favor and cut our time of travel doubly."

"Finest...in the army?" Iscan slurred. "I...would say...otherwise..."

The warrior presently vomited over board, while his Kleavor made a sound like laughing as the sick hit a unfortunate sailor that had stuck his head out of a porthole, downwind by terrible luck.

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Once night came to the Reshiram, the sailors and the Hisuians exchanged tales, and great stories out of myth and reality.

"Me and my company were on the southern frontier," Artheriem said. "And we encountered a group of folk from the deserts of Nuria. They did not welcome us, rather, they took some baskets of sand from their land, and scattered them upon the ground. They and their Pokémon stood upon them, cajoling us to attack!"

"Why did they carry sand from this place called Nuria?" Akari asked.

Artheriem looked like he was about to burst into tears of laughter. "Because, young lady...they said that Arceus could not touch them, because he was the God of Logaria, and had no power in Nurian soil! We slew them all, of course. They do not know that Arceus is not the God of Logaria, but the God of the Whole World. It is a dark time indeed..."

A few days passed, and Rei could now make observations about the life aboard the fleet, and the history of Logaria.

The sleeping quarters involved the sailors sleeping in hanging sacks, while the admiral, the women, and the guests of the Logarians had personal cabins. Adaman had decided to sleep on the deck, as he rather would see the stars than a wooden-plank roof. The Pokémon would keep watch, and being expertly trained, would even repel wild Pokémon though the night.

These attacks by the wild Pokémon were getting alarmingly frequent. The speed of the ships was certainly attractive to underwater Pokémon, but there was some other force working in the assaults. Madness was in the eyes of some Pokémon, and they fought with no reservation or guard. A Stunfisk had blasted a hole in the Cresselia, making it fall behind for two days while repairs were attended to.

"I have not seen this behavior in wild Pokémon," Laventon had said. "There are clearly external forces at play in our going into the south, and I doubt the goodwill of those who can twist the minds and hearts of Pokémon with mere Will..."

But Rei was absolutely preoccupied with the history of the southern empire. Berothrim had let him read some scrolls from a private container, and that was Rei's main activity, even more than conversing with the Logarians.

It was a shock to realize that there were so many doings in the world the the Northmen did not know of, except for faint legend. The farthest land that Rei had known of was Unova, and even that was shrouded in myth. But myths are truths coated in silver, Rei's mother had once told him, and grains of Truth could be found in most everything.

The Logarian empire was founded in the wake of the great battle of Kyogre and Groudon, in which the fashion of the world was changed. The Enemy had tried to slay the founding family, but they were carried into the south from Hoenn by the Spirit of Arceus, while the Enemy was dueling with Palkia, the Prince of Space. For this, the folk that lived in Logaria ever after gave worship to the Original One, and they grew and prospered.

Rei reflected on how this was similar to the charge that the Original One had given the first peoples of Hisui, although the Diamond Clan and the Pearl Clan often debated on whether it was Dialga or Palkia who had given the order, although most differences had been resolved by the Order of Elders. It was once so radical that some extremists had suggested that the Original One, along with Dialga and Palkia, were both manifestations of a force known as 'the almighty Sinnoh,' but this was quickly declared heretical.

And what military power! The population had grown so high, that they stuck out like a sore thumb in the nations of the world. They could take punches, lose people, and still fight back. They could lose battle after battle and still win the war. Only the kingdom of Nuria was able to resist the conquest of the north-kingdom, believing in the worship of a fallen-elohim known as Darkrai. Only recently had the desert dwellers fallen into ruin, although the barbarians that took the Nurians place were beholden to the Enemy.

The Enemy had set himself in a volcanic, desolate land that was upheaved by Groudon. There, the strange half-men that made the basic footsoldiers of the Black Army were bred, a terrible mockery of Men and Pokémon. Some considered this to be the Evil Djinn's greatest sin, the creation of a twisted race, wholly ruined, only given mercy by the release of Death.

Apparently, the tribesmen of the four Alolan Islands had allied with the Logarians, making it a fief to them. The Tapu, the guardian elohim of these islands, did not aid the Logarians, having separated themselves from the wars of Men. However, they did safeguard the land against the Enemy, providing a safe haven in the south.

Constant war between the Enemy and the Logarians occurred, battle after battle, campaign and stratagem, only to ever end in stalemate. But now, with the complete spirit of the Enemy now in his greatest fastness, the tide was changing. Hordes of half-men and tormented Pokémon gathered with greater speed than ever before. Soon, a flood would burst forth, and cover all the lands in a even greater darkness.

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Dor Daedeloth...

The sun is coated in a film of iron smoke, with sickly spots of fire. Septic smoke and poisonous slime litters the ground, and trailing Muk lap it up. Gengar and Gastly formed and disappear into the poisonous vapors, as half-men, evil-eyed and fell, patrol the ruined earth. Pits of stinking refuse with greasy sides dot the landscape, and massive spiders twist their fell snares in magma-coated ravines.

Any water that remains is thick with black mud and ash-slurry. Basalt chains hold the corpses of prisoners, left to die in a land without light or hope. Towers of metal rods cast shadows all about in the corpse-light, and faces, twisted and malicious, gibbered in the dark. All around, the air thrums of pain and despair.

But it holds not a damned finger to the Iron Throne, the true Iron Throne.

Let us go into the stronghold, the great stronghold that houses the Nethermost Hall of the Evil Djinn, below tunnel after tunnel, dug into the great slag-heaps of volcanoes. Follow me, into the Gates of Hades, and sink, if you dare, into the pit of Tartarus. Ignore the screaming, it's just the canaglia. Plug your nose, the sulfur is murder down here. Good for you that you can't see the demons, the drool of blood is most unsettling.

Go down, down, down, into Sheol. Find the barred gates, the ones with the monstrous visages of trapped souls appearing on the obsidian void metal. Open them, if you dare, and look down the Path of Chaos...

In the most gruesome and awful display, worse than any extreme of Dante's Inferno or Poe, the Enemy sat upon his throne, blackened, voided fingers clutching the solidified bone armrest. Here, all light and laughter is lost. Any who come here do not return to the sunlit lands, and never unchanged. The drums beat before the Hell of Steel, the halls of the Enemy, upheld by horror, where no power but the Evil One reigned, the greatest example of Hell Upon Earth, the epicenter of This Present Darkness.

A black nightmare of a creature, borne on membranous wings, bowed in reverence before the Evil Djinn.

"My Lord...the ones from the temple are coming south. Although the portal frame is nearly fin-"

The Enemy held up a blackened claw.

"Patience, Lucius. I do not value haste as much as one would believe. I have already foreseen these things. If you have any...other news, then I will give my ear to you, for a time."

Lucius stuttered. Even a interruption by his master was not welcome to his immense ego. He regained his demonic composure, and told the rest of the news.

The Enemy was upset, but only in the way that you would be if you found a pebble in your shoe. The power of him in his domain sometimes swelled his head.

"Lucius...go to Thunderous and Tornadus, if Landorus is otherwise occupied. They must plague them with storms and hail as immediately as practical! I do not wish for this 'bottle' to be crafted, no matter how small the risk!"

Lucius bowed, as no answer was expected of him. He dissipated, going to Tornadus and Thunderous.

The Enemy gave a horrendous chuckle. Standing in hell-forged boots, he threw back his great hood.

There was no head to be seen, only void. Nothing. Absence. Ex Nihilo. Above the Nothing was a faint shape of a crown, and it had a name upon it that none but the Enemy and the Original One knew.

What was once known as Marcus drew a blade of cold steel, and flames ran down the length of it.

"It is time..."

"Time!"

"TIME!"

All the armies of the Pit heard his cry. They resumed their duties with renewed fervor, forging weaponry and shields, crafting equipment for sieges and machines of war, breeding new half-men, directing lower canaglia, mining ore, digging deeper and deeper pits, down into the second earth.

The call for battle was at hand, and many followed.

Oppersive spiritual darkness spreads like a rotten blanket from Dor Daedeloth.

Foul winds blow from the Land of Shadowy Horror.

Half-men crawl like maggots from holes innumerable, more and more assemble.

The Deathless ready for battle, and hordes of wicked men gather in the south.

The Abyss grows fat with blood. Some folk of Logaria flee, or even join the Enemy as a last desperate bid.

His arm is long, and his servants many.

No one, Man, Pokémon, or Elohim can stem the tide.

The War of Wrath approaches...

There is little more to be said.