September 10th, First Year

Ingo was woken by a harsh rapping at his door. He stumbled into wakefulness in a mess of blankets and paper scraps, swallowing at the strange sticky sensation around his neck and chest. He carefully rose, spotting Chandelure's faint violet glow near the ceiling beam as his partner dropped down beside him. A passenger? Ingo glanced to the window, surprised to see that the night had yet to wane. A passenger this early? Whoever it was knocked again, loud enough to rattle the door on its tracks.

"Please stall your engine!" Ingo called, pulling on his haori. "I am on my way!" He stretched and continued stiffly to the door. "Oh? Captain Zisu?"

There, bundled in her usual deep red uniform, swaddled with small leather bags and pokéballs, was Captain Zisu of the Galaxy Team. "Ingo," she smiled nervously. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I thought you might-" The captain shook her head. "Nevermind. I'll tell you later. By any chance, would you be up to helping my cadets and I take a look at something pressing?"

"Such as…?" Ingo carefully motioned Zisu inside of his borrowed lodging, pointing her to the small sitting table in the middle of the room.

"Well, Commander Kamado has grown a bit… concerned with the nature of how these frenzies are progressing. You know how long it took to get rid of Lady Lilligant."

Ingo frowned. "The Lady was not 'gotten rid of' Zisu. She was quelled and as I am aware, her cab is still in need of repairs from the ordeal."

Ingo took in Zisu's stock. He did not like what he saw. To Ingo, Zisu had always been an optimistic, cheerful, and sometimes brash young lady. She was known as the heart of the Security Corps and her scouts respected her without issue. It was Zisu who had first reached out to Ingo when the Pearl Clan and the Galaxy Team had first made contact years ago and so he regarded the woman as a good friend. Somebody who he could trust, possibly.

Zisu had numerous bruises across her exposed collarbone and neck, most worryingly a large purple bruise across her left cheek. Her hands had been hastily bandaged as though she had been injured shortly before calling upon Ingo. Her auburn hair, normally tied up, was in shambles, some sections looking as though they had nearly been torn at the roots.

"Zisu… what happened to you?"

"Eh, nothing too serious. My men and I accidentally got caught in a distortion out on the path to Jubilife. They seem to just appear wherever nowadays." Zisu then lit up. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. The commander does as well, but- well- he's a busy guy, hehe."

Ingo crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. "Your commander never seems to be available for anything. It is a wonder how your team accomplishes your endeavors." Ingo sighed. "What can I do for you, Zisu?"

"I want you to escort my men near a goliath of a distortion- one right over Lake Verity."

Ingo paused. A distortion over Lake Verity? Wasn't that one the very one that his fellow faller had created? "I… believe that that particular distortion has no entrance platform. We cannot enter it regularly."

"How can we enter it?"

"..I believe a special item of some kind could help to gain access to it," Ingo rambled, "but the item lies with a member of the Diamond Clan. As far as I am aware, they are M.I.A.- missing in action."

Zisu blinked. "Oh. I guess that's okay. I still want to check it out, though. See, Captain Cyllene has the working theory that distortions get the wild pokémon nearby all riled up. She thinks that's where the alpha pokémon are coming from. I think they're separate from Lesser Lords."

"They are," Ingo answered quickly. In years past, he had been taught the difference between Lords, Lesser Lords, and standard alphas. Lords dominated their regions. Lesser Lords reported back to their Lords. Standard alphas were essentially cabs running without tracks; hooligans, if he was framing it correctly. "It is… an interesting theory to be sure. It does sound promising."

"So will you help us out?"

"Of course," Ingo answered without hesitation. "Please do inform me when you and your passengers are ready to depart. All I must do is prepare a few items from the dojo and rouse my partners."

Zisu grinned, clapping her hands excitedly. "Thank you, Ingo! I knew I could count on you!" She quickly stood up. "You're the best!"

"I will take that as a compliment."

"You better!" Zisu began to head for the door, making plans under her breath for what the group would need and how they would proceed toward the lake. As she exited back outside, her eyes widened, and she quickly turned back to Ingo. "Hey. Listen. By any chance, did you notice these marks outside your door and window?"

"…Marks?" Ingo took a step out into the brisk morning air, watching as Zisu pointed out numerous scuffs and chip marks in the seals of the windows and doors. He then felt a shudder pass through him. There were numerous scratch marks on the wooden doors and windows but what got Ingo to freeze was the splintered wood at the bottom of the door track leading into his borrowed lodging.

To Ingo's knowledge and from what his fellow Pearl Clan members had pointed out to him, Ingo was the only person within the Pearl Clan to lock his doors and belongings. He would either enlist Probopass's help in making metal bars to lay in the door tracks or window tracks to keep them from opening or he would have a strip of metal banded around his possessions to keep people from taking them. Ingo had never remembered himself to be a possessive person when it came to his belongings. He only remembered making more locks once he had joined the Pearl Clan. One of the rangers had insisted on taking his worn hat and jacket once to "repair" them. Ingo only barely remembered nearly coming to blows with the younger man as they attempted to steal his precious items from him.

Somebody had clearly attempted to break into his home. "...I don't presume you tried to force the door open upon arriving?" Ingo asked aloud.

"Of course not. I have standards." Zisu frowned. "As captain of the Security Corps, I'll take a look into this. You're my friend Ingo and it's clear that whoever was here really wanted to get in." She then turned to look closely at him. "You didn't hear anything?"

"No."

"Your pokémon didn't hear anything?"

"Not that I am aware of." Ingo then paused and peered back into his longhouse, finding nothing out of place. Whatever had wanted to break in clearly hadn't succeeded. He froze as a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Ingo… why is there blood on your kimono?" Zisu had spun him around, carefully peeling back the collar of his kimono, her eyes widening. "Ingo, there's blood all around your neck!"

"Not possible. I don't remember being attacked in my sleep." But Ingo reached back his hand, finding the source of why he had woken up feeling damp and clammy. His hand came back red. He felt around again, finding an insidious straight cutting wound across the back of his neck just an inch above one of his vertebrae: a deadly wound. "I think… I think I should make haste for the medical wing."

"Let's go together."

The nurse's touch to his wound was gentle. Overtly so. Almost as if afraid she would kill him. In lantern light, the sheer severity of his wound had been made known. Whatever had injured him had struck to kill. The cut originated on the right side of his throat and all the way across similar to a crescent. Another cut, one that slashed over his chest from his collarbones to the proximal tip of his sternum, was surprisingly causing him the least pain. Coagulated blood stuck to his entire throat and the front side of his chest.

"How are you not dead?" Zisu gaped. "How did you not notice somebody attacking you like this?"

From Ingo's side, Chandelure hummed concertedly, one metal arm tenderly curled around Ingo's waist as though the ghost-type had been struck by that comment. "I do not know. I consider myself to be a light-sleeper so to be unconscious through sustaining a wound such as this…" Ingo ruminated on that thought a bit longer. Not even two days prior, his brother, Emmet, had done an inspection of a similar accident where his fellow faller had been injured. Emmet had shared a few of his notes; notes that remarked that his fellow faller had been injured in such a fashion as well. A pattern. This is a disconcerting pattern. To be attacked in such a nature and survive. "…Zisu?"

"Ingo?"

Ingo stilled. Cameras did not exist at that time. Asking her or the Security Corps whether they had seen anything suspicious would yield no pertinent information. Ingo was careful to wrap his lacerations in clean gauze once the nurse had disinfected his wounds. This should take priority over Zisu's favor, but… Somehow, Ingo had survived. Somehow, those two terrible intentional wounds hadn't killed him. But who could have targeted him?

Ingo did not have enemies to his knowledge. People sometimes feared him for his outward appearance or for his loud way of speaking. They also feared him for the manner in which he trained and guided his full team of pokémon. But he couldn't figure out who would have the animosity to try and kill him.

Emmet's new Zoroark came to mind. Ingo was hesitant to dispel that thought. Zoroarks were masters of illusion. If the beast had wanted to break in and kill him for revenge for what happened in the icelands, it would have had no problem breaking through the paper section of the doors to climb in and maim him. There was Gaeric, his fellow warden. The two did not enjoy one another's company that well, but Ingo couldn't imagine angering the man well enough to incite coming to blows.

"Ingo? You're scaring me here." Zisu had forcefully pulled him from his stupor, giving him two gentle knocks to his forehead. "There you are. Back from thinking?"

Ingo hummed. "I think this is a matter we should raise to the commander or the captain. This makes the second time somebody has been attacked and nearly killed within the walls of Jubilife Village."

"You're… well, you're not wrong." Zisu stood. "I think it's past sunrise. Nurse!"

"Yes, Captain Zisu?"

"Can you tell one of your younger assistants to fetch Captain Cyllene? She'll want to hear about this."


September 11th, First Year

The winds were growing colder. The skies were growing darker. Ingo kept to his position in the center of the group as he and Galaxy scouts ascended the hills leading to Lake Verity. He'd been keeping his promise to the nurses by cleaning and rewrapping his wounds as best as he could.

Captain Cyllene had been disturbed upon learning what had happened to him. Now, every station controlled by the Galaxy Team was on high alert. Lady Irida had been informed about the situation but to Ingo's knowledge, his clan leader had yet to respond.

The wound in his neck did not ache. It didn't burn or sting when the wrappings became wet from rain, and it didn't throb when Zisu would occasionally grab him and redirect him toward solid ground. He found himself pulling up his Xtransceiver, checking for Emmet's position for the fifth time that day. Like it had been doing, Emmet's white point would consistently bob between the east side of the Horseshoe Plains and the southeast depths of The Heartwood as though he were pacing back and forth between those two locations. He wished Mespirit had blessed him with the ability to communicate between one another like… like… What were they called again?

He felt the distortion before he saw it; a strange clammy heat upon his face and arms as he approached the crest of the hill, the winds ceasing to blow. The grass around the perimeter had been flattened. The woods around the lake were dense with creeping ivy and fog, the group turning to attaching one another via ropes to keep from getting lost. Emmet had also mentioned this area to him as well; the entrance into a bigger distortion. A time distortion.

Within hours, Ingo had been the first to arrive from the foggy forest, holding his breath as he surveyed the truly massive distortion before him. Everything within the great dark dome was paralyzed. The leaves did not blow. The churning waves of the lake sat upon the surface, forever holding their potential energies as the aquatic pokémon below lay dormant. Ethereal cracks of light spread across the top and center of the dome, its other side both unfathomable and too terrible to gaze upon for too long.

"Here we are," Zisu announced. "This is the distortion I was talking about."

Despite Ingo's reservations, the research that the scouts commenced around the distortion were quite tame. The scouts divided themselves into two groups: those with strong pokémon and those with weak pokémon. The group with weaker pokémon would gently introduce their partners to the distortion's protective layers and then record the results. Most of the pokémon did nothing but shy away from the darkened edge, cringing back to their wielder's protective embrace. Others reacted negatively to the forcefield, attempting to push themselves in and swiping at their wielders when being pulled back.

Ingo sent out his Chandelure. Cautiously, Chandelure peered into the abyss, swaying this way and that and humming as if attempting to communicate with something within the field. After a few minutes, it turned, confused. So ghost-types cannot cross through it either. Ingo supposed that it made sense. If time was paralyzed in that section, then nothing should be able to pass as the space that they made up would need the progression of time to be able to move.

He let his weathered hand rest against the edge of the distortion, his brows furrowing when a tingly sensation between to itch through his fingers. Slowly, as if moving through quicksand or a wall of honey, Ingo began to seep through the edge of the distortion, his chest tightening and his eyes beginning to dry. He barely heard Zisu's voice calling out for him, instead pushing through until he was standing on the other side of the distortion.

It was frigid there in the sparse, yellow grass. A horrible pressure began to build around his chest, nose, and throat, and as he looked back at the other side of the barrier, his stomach dropped when he realized he could no longer see his companions.

"Do Not Be Afraid, My Champion."

Ingo visibly relaxed as Mespirit's ornery voice came to him, a succinct pressure falling upon his shoulders. He opened his mouth to speak, pausing when no sound came out.

"Time Is Paused Here, Thus Sound Does Not Travel. I Speak To You Inside Your Mind, My Champion." After a moment, Mespirit continued. "You May Exist Within This Pocket Of Paralyzed Time Due To Palkia's Protection; I Advise That You Return Back."

Are you here too? In this distortion?

"No. I Cannot Exist In My Lair, So I Bide My Time," Mespirit explained. "There Is Nothing To Be Gained Here."

Very well. Ingo turned back to the edge of the distortion, his eyes catching on the landscape before him. Everything was much more different than it had been, almost as if he was looking at a different cross section of Hisui either years ahead or years before he had arrived. The mountains surrounding Lake Verity were smaller. Tamer. Hills instead of treacherous mountains dominated the slopes and a wide river spilled into the lake from the north. Multiple smaller streams and rivers spilled out of the lakebed heading south for the sea.

What really caught his eye was a large structure situated atop Mount Coronet where The Rift should be. Floating above the summit on an island all of its own, layered in dilapidated floating rubble, was a tower of sorts. Great white clouds swirled around the tower, flashes of lightning occasionally grappling the walls as if some great battle was being fought there.

What is that?

"Temporal Tower," Mespirit answered solemnly. "The Ancient Celesticans Referred To It As The Gateway Between The Mortal Realm And The Realm Of Dialga, The Temporal Deity. The God Of Time."

I have never seen it before.

"There Is A Purpose To That. Dialga Hid That Gateway In A Swatch Of Paralyzed Time. Thusly, Temporal Tower Can Only Be Seen Through Time Distortions." The deity spoke carefully, its words low and dark. "Never Go There," Mespirit warned. "It Is A Place Impenetrable By Other Deities. A Locked Dungeon That Can Only Be Opened By The God Of The Realm."

Ingo took a deep breath. A gateway to Dialga's dimension. Dialga who ruled over time. His fellow faller had mentioned needing to escort the gears to an ulterior location. That is their end station, isn't it? Temporal Tower?

"It Is." Before Ingo could ask any more questions, Azelf continued. "Perhaps, It Would Be Best To Enlist Azelf's Help In That Subject. They Are Closer To The God Of Time Than Myself."

Very well. Thank you, Mespirit. Ingo pushed his way out of the distortion and incidentally, right into Captain Zisu's arms.

"Ingo! Thank the stars! You're okay!" Zisu did not hesitate to yank the man away from the boundary, pulling him up for a quick, bone-crushing hug. She nearly held him aloft, gently setting him back down. "Never-" she growled- "do that again. Nearly scared me half to death!"

"…My apologies."

The day continued. The scouts, satisfied with what they had discovered, retreated back to their encampment atop Aspiration Hill leaving Ingo to perform his own duties. Palkia and Mespirit had requested that he busy himself with collecting the remaining Old Verses. He already had a decent amount but with the extra time on his hands, Ingo set to collecting the remaining ones still situated in the fieldlands.

With the help of Gliscor, Ingo hopped from point to point, enlisting Tangrowth and Probopass's help to dig up the two verses he hadn't found. One Old Verse was barely hidden in the sand by Ramanas Island, meters down the coast from where the Outlander Settlement was located. It was a harsh topic, even harsher when Ingo considered himself having been hairs away from joining the outlanders himself.

Outlanders were, to put it simply, those who lived in Hisui who rejected the control of both the Diamond and Pearl Clans and the Galaxy Team. They were scrutinized. Cast aside. Some were thrown out of their clans because they no longer served a purpose; the elderly, the disabled, and soon-to-be-dead were amongst the list. Some were rejected entry into the clans and were forced to beg to be let in. From what Ingo knew, most of the people Commander Kamado rejected that he had failed to execute were sent to Ramanas Island where they were both out of sight and out of mind… and disturbingly, susceptible to attacks from wild pokémon.

The Outlander Settlement were hermits. Hostile and mean and wary of the clans, they isolated themselves and refused contact with harboring boats or curious explorers. The colony had been known to sink ships with arrows or chase off interlopers with torches and hatchets.

Ingo quickly set to digging up the Old Verse he was after, his kimono wet with ocean water and sea spray as he put the box in his traveling bag. He alighted into the air again with Gliscor, not pausing until the two had touched down in the northern part of The Heartwood. There, finding the last Old Verse was a matter of checking under every bush and gnarled root until he found it sticking out of a tree knot.

He kept the four Old Verses safely in his pack, a grim smile painting his face as the indicator points on his Xtransceiver went out. Palkia had apparently acknowledged his success. Now, the screen had changed to display the Crimson Mirelands and a handful of points scattered about the map. Seemed his job would never end. With the sun sinking toward the horizon, Ingo found himself dreading sleep. Would he be attacked again? Would something try to break in and possibly steal his Old Verses?

A call. A curious chirp. Something was heading toward him. Ingo's hand went immediately to his saber, pausing as he realized what was approaching him: a Staravia. The small falcon quickly alighted on Ingo's shoulder, a piece of parchment crunched in its beak. It dropped the piece of paper in Ingo's hand and immediately took back to the skies again, leaving no room for Ingo to respond. He unfurled the paper.

Ingo, get to the beach by Ramanas immediately. Trapped by an alpha Gastrodon. My team is down.

His gut sank like a stone. His brother was near the ocean? Ingo hopped astride Gliscor's back, quickly checking his Xtransceiver as he alighted into the skies once more. He paused. Emmet's point was still pacing around near the southern portion of The Heartwood. With the cold wind battering his face, Ingo recalled the hastily scribbled note. That was not Emmet's handwriting.

The new handwriting was certainly forged as though whoever wrote it had been in a hurry, but it didn't match his brother's handwriting. It didn't match the tracker that Mespirit had bestowed upon him. It didn't match anything. Maybe… Ingo's eyes narrowed, and he motioned for Gliscor to slow, his silver glare scouring the hills of the fieldlands. Maybe, the note had been a lure. A way to trick him. He had been attacked that morning. Maybe whatever had tried to kill him was trying to move him somewhere secretive.

Ingo scowled. This time, he would be awake and his pokémon at the ready. No tricks; just a good fight, and he would get to the bottom of things.

Pale moonlight shone upon the ocean waves as Ingo touched down on the beach. Gliscor covered his back, snapping his pincers irritably as it too surveyed the area behind Ingo. He wouldn't be caught unaware this time.

"Emmet!" Ingo called falsely. "I'm here, Emmet!" He could see the massive hulking figure of Lesser Lord Gastrodon as it circled about on the waves, hardly paying him attention from the other side of the bay. Lessor Lord Gastrodon would never swim further than Ramanas Island, let alone cross the narrow channel.

A horrible chilling sensation swept up Ingo's spine. He turned quickly, drawing his saber. Gliscor let out a piercing hiss and rose, his wings flared as he darted across the sand. A white-hot pain exploded across Ingo's shoulder and he tumbled down into the sand. Something snarled low, Gliscor's shrieks of rage fading all too quickly. Chandelure called itself out, illuminating the beach in a terrible violet light. It hovered protectively over him.

Ingo saw the long shaft of an arrow embedded into his shoulder. He got low, his breathing beginning to pick up as Chandelure moved forward. Flames spilled from her head and arms, the wisps chasing after something that was inherently too quick for Chandelure to pursue. Ingo's ace faltered and then… moved away. Chandelure's once golden eyes had gone white and she began to twitch, her movements carrying her further and further away from Ingo.

Ingo gritted his teeth as something sharp sliced into his calf. He picked up his head, his eyes searching for whatever had attacked him. He paused. A pair of eyes stared ominously at him from only a few paces away. Silver eyes.

Sand was thrown into his face, causing him to spit and shut his eyes. A fatal mistake. Almost immediately after Ingo had closed his eyes, fast footsteps surged toward him, a pair of arms locking around his throat. Ingo bucked back, fighting past the pain in his shoulder and leg as he rolled himself over, grappling for his opponent's face.

He slammed his opponent's face into the sand, hissing when a pair of teeth tore into the flesh of his palm. He dug in his nails, knowing that he was ripping flesh as he straddled his opponent. Waves of sand were continuously tossed into his face and in the fraction of a second, a slip of fabric had been forced around his head. Whoever is attacking me must really not want me to see them.

Ingo heard his Machamp appear before almost immediately being silenced. Whoever his opponent was must have had a team similar to his own. Ingo continued fighting blindly, feeling with his bleeding hand until his fingers felt the thready start of his opponent's throat. He squeezed. His opponent thrashed beneath him.

Something sharp lacerated his throat. Blood sprayed into the sand and all over Ingo and his attacker as he faltered. His attacker quickly forced Ingo off and into the sand, a pair of hands wrapping around his throat in turn. When Ingo reached weakly for his saber, blood spraying out of his neck, his attacker kicked it away, squeezing hard enough that Ingo couldn't breathe.

Cold terror flooded through him. He fought and twisted. Clawed with his bare hands and attempted to regain pressure over his slashed throat. Pressed his feet into the sand to try and regain control. I'm going to die… I'm going to die! I can't die! Not here!

Ingo seized as icy cold water surged around him. His attacker had used his dwindling consciousness to flip him over, dragging him into the surf as they continued to strangle him. He still couldn't see. He felt so exhausted. Ingo willed to fight but his limbs, slow and heavy, dragged in the water as he was forced under the waves. Quietly, slowly, Ingo faded, and as he did, he only barely felt his attacker cut open his wrists and throat. He'd been right. Emmet had been right. He hoped Emmet would forgive him…


September 12th, First Year

Cold. It was cold. Ingo blinked awake, recoiling when his eyes began to sting. His mouth was dry and his limbs felt as though they were made of stone. He pushed himself upward, nausea roiling in his gut as he collapsed on the sand… Sand?

He blinked. The sky was blue and he felt as though he had been dragged along the beach. I… I'm alive. He slowly sat up, no longer feeling the wounds of when he had been… murdered. I've been murdered, Ingo pondered. I… died. I was strangled to death. Or did I bleed to death?

He stared at the beach for a long time, only interrupted when a cold limb curled around his arm. A familiar hum reached him before something heavy and warm curled up in his lap. He recognized Chandelure. She too had been battered, her violet flames coming in spurts, her metal frame dented and nicked in numerous places.

…Ingo really needed to get back to camp.