Authors note: It has been years since I did this hobby, and I wanted to take another shot at it. This is the 4th instalment in my series. While you probably won't need to read the previous novels, I am re-using some characters throughout.

Volume 1 - Rise
Volume 2 - Legends
Volume 3 - Convergence

This story will be a retelling of Pokemon White. All my stories are based off of Nuzlocke runs. This means that the Pokemon caught, used and battles are under Nuzlocke rules: I will only be catching 1 Pokemon per route/area. I will be nicknaming all Pokemon caught. If a Pokemon faints, it is considered dead or perma-boxed. I will be adhering to level caps and will not be using items in battle unless it is a held item.

There will be a couple of team members who I plan on using in this run which I have already decided upon.

This story will stay somewhat true to the game, however, there will be some additions from other forms of media surrounding the game. Thank you for reading and please feel free to leave a review with your feedback.

Prologue

Black smoke obscured everything above, but were lit from below with the ruby flickering of the fires light. Swaths of the city burned thanks to the unleashed rage from the Hero's fight. People and Pokemon alike were crying out, attempting to either beat back the flames or find more to fight as they rallied around the fear which gripped the city.

What need was there for understanding, when the Gods went to war? Were these people not simply gnats to be crushed under heel from such devastating power?

Small hands reached up and pulled the tiny body up between the crenelations of the tower. Deep blue eyes stared out at the devastation visited upon his home. He did not understand the reasoning for this. Why would they fight? Footsteps of feet encased in armour sounded along the stones. The man came to stand just behind and to the right of the child, also staring out. There was a helplessness to his stance.

"You shouldn't be out here" the old and tired voice finally said after a time. Sounds of the people were not able to assault this high up, unlike the distant roar of the flames. The child looked at his elder, who stood straight, yet weighted and not from the armour that clothed him. Rather the weight of weariness and impossibilities. Iron-streaked hair was glistening in the flickering light from sweat, yet no helmet was worn.

"Is it true?" the child asked. The older man sighed. The child frowned down at the city.

"I cannot say for certain, but it would appear that way."

"I wish I could fight" the small voice replied.

"I hope you never have to." A white shape detached itself from the smoke, drifting down to the tower. It was a magnificent apparition, something none have ever seen before. Which would have been hard to do, considering today was the day it came into being. It stood over two-man length's high, its wing span closer to five the child thought. Its white body seemed almost blinding and yet those green eyes could not tear themselves away from staring at it. Ivory tipped claws alighted on the tower, shaking dust from the mortar thanks to its weight. An elongated wolf-like snout, fangs still bared in both pain and intimidation, dipped down to appraise the two on the roof, its brilliant blue eyes taking in those standing before it. It was only now that both the elder and the child could see the beast was breathing heavily, blood still flowing from numerous gashes along its body. Muscles twitched beneath the bulk.

Another man dropped down off the back of the God. He too was wearing armour, but his was a touch more elaborate than the elder man standing beside the child. This armour belonged to one of the royal princes. Its silver sheen beaten into shape of the family crest along the chest plate, outlined in gold. The pauldrons were made to look like wing tips flowing back, but it seemed the one on the right was missing. And the left leg had a gash, a red stain along the edges of the armour. Removing his helm, which bore the sigil of truth, the embattled prince favoured the leg as he stood before the two, sea-green eyes staring out at the city. It was a time before anyone spoke.

"My brother has fled." The elder man nodded a single tear falling unseen. "We will need to send the guard down to restore peace. And to put out those fires."

"It will be done my prince."

"My father?"

"I fear for him. This… unrest. The energy unleashed; it has taken its toll."

"Would that my brother could have seen the truth in this, Sentinel." The Sentinel was silent as it was his role to protect the royal family. And he had failed.

"There is one more thing sire." The prince looked to the Sentinel. "It would seem a husk was left. I am not certain what to make of it, but it unnerves me. The king has forbidden its removal and even now sits before it." The prince frowned at this.

"I will go speak to my father. I will make him understand." The Sentinel nodded not saying anything more. The prince finally looked at the child.

"Today you are witness to a new age. My brother in his ideals was wrong to push this so far. But we will rise from this, stronger. Reshiram here proves the truth of this!" The child was only able to stare back into

Before the sun crested the horizon, bring shape into a new day, both princes had left the city. Stone littered the streets, along with people and Pokemon. Even those who were still gripped by their senses barely took note of the three people wearing simple clothing navigating the city. It would be difficult the Sentinel thought, but not impossible. His armour was hidden beneath the blankets in the wagon he led. The small boy sat in his peripheral, hood still up to disguise the features.

Reaching the gates, the old Sentinel noticed that part of the wall was destroyed, as if struck by a bolt from the heavens. Guards simply nodded as the Zebstrika pulled the wagon out beyond the walls. It was going to be a long journey.

History is simply the tale of the victor. There could be not other interpretation. Cities doted the region, growing from those small villages to the holdfasts which would eventually give rise to the current civilization. But travel throughout, and you heard tell of the legends and stories passed down through the ages. Here was the Hero of Truth! Behold the Sage of Ideals! Here lies the King!

Of course, kernels of truth were usually at the heart of such stories. Ruins of old showed that these cities grew from the bones of their ancestors. Those which nature had not wiped away with an easy swipe of the hand. Catastrophes whether natural or manmade, forced people to move on and seek greener pastures. It took years of researching and exploring to finally find what he was looking for. And while he would have preferred to work alone, he was in the company of three others who believed much in the same, and were loyal to a fault. Time was a constant pressure, that ever-moving pace upon which man had dictated their lives. But now, they could finally restore their world.

Yes it had taken years to restore the grandeur of the palace. There had been no lack of manpower though. It had started with one, but now they were seven. Each of the seven had their talents, and were put to task accordingly. Legends, myths, histories. Nothing was left spared as the plundered the secrets of the castle. More people from all walks of life started appearing as the tendrils of power seeped their way out from the grounds. None who ventured in left the same, if they left at all.

These grounds served another purpose. Wild Pokemon here were truly wild. They did not fear those who now resided within the palace grounds. This made the towering man's dreams that much more of a reality. Or so he had thought.

Two years into finding and living in the castle, the man had gone out searching for something. Only his three loyalists with him. What came back scared the other six. A scar had ripped into the man's right eye. Burns were evident everywhere, but the right arm was not just burnt. It had been blackened and maimed, as if a darkness was attempted to wrest the arm from the man. The three were silent as to the events of that day, and would not leave the man's side. One of the six began working.

Twelve years passed. The man had regained some function of his arm over time, and his speech had come back. The savage head blow had caused some neural damage, but it seemed that resilience and a sense of righteousness had driven the man to recovery. The new acolytes were both terrified and mesmerized by this man's power. As his heal progressed, the man had taken to wearing a robe of sorts in order to hide his condition more easily. An eyepiece had been fashioned for him from one of the finest jewelers in the region. All in all, it more cultivated the sense of grandeur in the man.

The servant stepped away from dropping the tray of food off, backing all the way out of the room nervously. The smell of coffee infused the room, while the giant of a man stood facing out on the grounds he now called home. It would be here, far enough away from civilization that he would make his reality. A knock sounded against his door.

"Enter." The voice was quiet but powerful. Charisma and confidence oozed against the ears like dripping honey. Another man entered the room, standing quietly at the threshold. A grey mustache painted the man's upper lip, while the thinning grey hair atop was neatly combed over. Crows' feet at the mans eyes gave away a bit of age, but otherwise he was somewhat unassuming. Blood red robes covered the man's body. The larger man turned finally.

"Sage Rood."

"Sage Ghetsis. I come bearing news." Ghetsis motioned for Rood to continue while Ghetsis partook in his breakfast.

"I believe we have found him." This news startled Ghetsis.

"Truly?" Rood nodded. An almost feral grin spread across Ghetsis face. "Take the Triad. Bring him to me."

"I do not believe it will be that simple." The grin faded, replaced instead by the faintest frown.

The young boy tripped and fell. He cried out as the skin on his knee scrapped away. More movement followed, and so, crying, the child began running once more. All sorts of noises were heard all around in these woods. Tears mostly blinded the child as he ran through the undergrowth. At last, he could run no more, and sniffling, he huddled up against a tree. He was only five, and could not process all that was happening. All he knew was his father had told him and his mother to run, and run they did. That did not stop whatever that darkness was though from attacking his mother as well.

Sounds were quieting around the child, and he looked up from his knees. There in the gloom, a lantern light illuminated the woods and a man holding aloft the flame. The child faltered upon seeing the mans face, partially hidden as it was behind an eyepiece.

"Poor child" the man said in a soft voice. He was huge, larger than the boy's father by far. Yet his voice was kindly. "I am sorry my boy, I was not able to be there in time. As you can see, I am no longer as strong as I once was." The robes parted, and the child was able to see a blackened arm. Then this man too must have understood what had happened. He had been through something similar. Slowly the child reached out, tentatively touching the maimed appendage. The man did not move, simply kneeling before the child, offering him salvation.

"Come with me, I will take care of you" the man said. Fresh tears fell from the boys' eyes and he leapt forward into the gut of the man, wrapping tiny arms as far as he could. Ghetsis fell back onto his backside, but carefully set the lantern down, bringing his good hand to the back of the head of the young child who was crying into his chest.

"There, there. Everything will be better some day. You'll see."

An enraged roar tore through the night in the distance, and none could see the smile upon Ghetsis' face.