Chapter 95 – Regroup

Within the King's castle, two Pokémon, one large, one small, sat on opposite ends of a large table. Leph always felt awkward playing with the Treecko opposite to her, and she was sure she felt the same about her… but they were the only ones who could really entertain one another. Everyone else was either dull or intimidated or downright irritating.

Aster's grinning, saccharine expression flashed through Leph's mind and she shook it away.

"Leph?" the Treecko asked, fanning her five cards. "Are you holding?"

Leph blinked, then looked down. Three kings—each one a different depiction of Alexander—a two, and a five.

"One card," Leph said, sliding the two forward, face-down. She did not move her hoof, and lacking a mouth made for a good poker face, but she had always been told that her green eyes were very expressive. And apparently, a mouthless Pokémon wearing sunglasses was cheating. Sharing the same species as the God of Creation? Just fine. Some eyewear? Unbecoming of an Arceus, apparently.

Beside Leph was a small pile of candies they used in place of chips. They didn't need money, after all, only the pride of winning. Her opponent had far fewer.

"And you, Mhynt?" Leph said.

The Treecko's fingers twitched, and Leph knew that simply dropping one card was intimidating her. Good. And she already had a trio.

"Three," Mhynt said, sliding them forward. With a flick of her fingers, a dark power danced around them and pushed the three cards into the pile, and that same dark power wrapped around the top of the deck. She was oddly stiff after she saw the cards, her expression even more stone-faced than before.

She was hiding her loss. "Something wrong?" Leph asked.

"No." Mhynt's eyes trailed for a split-second toward a lifeless Honedge next to her, its hilt balanced against the tableside. Common giveaway, looking toward the blade for support, even if it could not answer. It was sad, in a way, but Leph could take advantage of the insecurity.

Mhynt slid three candies into the pile. "Raise by three."

Trying to psyche her out? Fine. All she would need is to match, raise, and scare her into folding. "Five."

Leph's face contorted ever so slightly into a forced frown. Forced frown.

"All in."

No no no. This was a trap. Even if she matched it, Leph would have the upper hand in one play. If she backed out now, they'd be on even ground. Was it worth it? Three cards. Most of her hand was junk. The most she'd have is a pair. What was the point, then? To scare her? Or was it a lucky draw? A trio. But Leph had three kings. But had she seen a single ace from this deck yet?

Too risky. "Fold."

"LEPH!"

The shrill voice of Aster punctuated the sudden weight on Leph's back, and whatever sense of thrilling peace was evaporated with his shriek.

"Leph, Leph! I gotta go on a mission! Can you lend me some of your tricky spheres?"

Aster hung off of Leph's wheel, swinging his legs and tail forward and backward, gaining more height each time.

"Aster, can you please knock next time?" Mhynt said irritably; during Aster's sudden appearance, she had grabbed the hilt of her blade, but released it with an irritated huff. "Why didn't Alexander ask me to go on this mission?"

"I dunno!" Aster said.

"I haven't gone on one in a while." Mhynt stacked her five cards, set them down, and conjured a large, dark hand from her left arm. With it, she drew the candies toward her side of the table with a large, shadowy hand.

"I dunno!"

Leph grunted and said, "Just be glad you can stay here. I'm not interested in…" She shook her head. "Never mind. Aster, what's the mission?"

"Qitlan gave me a report! Null Village! There was a big spike in energy, way more than what a spire can make. I gotta investigate! Then I have to bring back the most powerful thing I see there so Alexander can talk to them."

"Recovery. Hmph." Mhynt crossed her arms, tapping her fingers. "It's better than nothing." She reached for her blade, pulled it closer, and ran her fingers along the flat of the blade. "Do you suppose this will finally be the key that gets us out of this place?"

"I would hope so," Leph said. "I don't remember what the sun looks like. Just pictures."

"What are you saying?" Mhynt said dully, twirling her wrist. "All you need to do is look at Aster's bright personality."

The Mewtwo grinned wider, staring up at Leph with open palms. "Please? Just a few!"

"Don't hurt anybody you don't need to," Leph said, tapping her hoof on the floor. Circles of light and various strange symbols appeared beneath it, and two bright, cyan spheres solidified beneath, each one filled with a white energy.

"Thanks, Leph!" He hopped high into the air and headbutted her on the face, then disappeared in a flash of light.

Leph didn't flinch, though her eyes showed signs of a sad smile.

"Why did you tell him not to hurt anyone?" Mhynt asked, cocking her head.

"Aster's trying to please Alexander. I can tell. But I don't want him to lose himself now that activity's getting hectic…"

"Mm." Mhynt returned her blade to the tableside. "Things would be a lot easier if you just followed his orders instead of giving him a hard time. He can kill you if you push too hard, you know."

"I'd love to see him try," Leph said automatically, but then her throat hitched at Mhynt's glare. "I—I mean… I am only following…"

"He makes the orders," Mhynt said. "Without him, you would be nothing but a Void Shadow. Don't forget that."

Leph's fur bristled with golden energy, and Mhynt's scales coursed with black light. At the same time, they both settled to normal. He won't let me.

"Still," Mhynt said, "I suppose he sees some value in your cautious approach. Helps even out Aster, I guess, and he's more than happy to please him."

Leph said nothing.

"Should we continue our game?"

She had forgotten. Nodding, Leph pressed a golden hoof on her folded hand. "Three kings." Now she wanted to know what Mhynt had that made her so confident as to go all-in.

The Treecko set her cards face-up. "Junk."


The southern horizon was a lot gloomier, Angelo thought. All the more reason to stay inside and relax. Was it morning or noon? Afternoon? He wasn't sure. He had passed out and spent the day inside after that. They had gone without him to Yotta Outskirts with that strange Joltik. Somehow. Was there a point in asking how?

Under his bed, something shifted and bumped. Everything seemed a little darker in his room, but Angelo attributed that to the gloomy weather outside. Not much light got in his room anyway, aside from the single open window on the opposite wall. The door into his work station and the front of the shop taunted him on his right. To his left, a wall with a few sketches to motivate him for the day. Never worked.

The bumping continued, and then he sank a little lower into his sack of cotton, like some of its contents had leaked out. Angelo curled up tighter, shivering. It wasn't one of his sleep paralysis demons, was it? Apparitions of old nightmares of his grandfather cackling in his final days. Staring through the window while he was helpless to move.

No, no. This was different. He could move. Angelo squeezed his toes to make sure, then rolled over and curled his blanket over his face again.

The door opened and Angelo's heart may as well have stopped. He didn't dare move. No breathing. Then it closed. Was he going crazy? No, he had a visitor. That was right. This was normal now. He wasn't living alone anymore, and he was too afraid of what would happen if he told it to go away.

Working up the courage to face it again, Angelo finally took a new breath and removed his soft, gray blanket. The cold morning air reminded him to regret that decision, as per usual, and then he sat at his bedside. The door opened again, and near the bottom was a strange, featureless mass of darkness with five little eyes that blinked asynchronously at him. Balanced on top of its head—was it a head?—and secured with countless tiny fingers was a plate of stir-fry noodles.

It slid closer and stopped in the middle of the room, four of its five eyes staring at Angelo. The last eye darted this way and that, focused on the sketches and drawings that littered his walls, and all the fallen papers and used supplies that covered most of the floor.

"Yes?" Angelo asked, his throat feeling dry from the night. Had that been his first word in the past full day?

The thing inched closer.

"I'm not usually hungry right when I wake up…"

To this, it shrank a little.

"Guilt tripping me, huh?" Angelo muttered, sighing. "I'll try to eat it. Thank you."

Angelo lifted it and gently worked the utensils, simple chop sticks. A lot like a brush—he was just more comfortable with that sort of tool, and he was surprised this apparition was so conscientious.

These things were also not much for conversation. He only knew that they were part of that monster that was now curled around Kilo Village's crater. But sometimes, he'd hear its voice in a whisper in his mind.

Near the middle of his meal, someone knocked at the entrance to his home. Heavy knocks this time, so it couldn't have been that insomniac Salazzle. The Lucario from before wasn't back, and the Fairy one refused to be seen in public after that one incident with the child saying he was pretty. That must have meant it was Phol.

"Come in," Angelo called out.

"Angelo, are you feeling any better today?" Phol called. The Incineroar opened the door to Angelo's room next—he had to duck to get through the frame—and frowned at what Angelo assumed he thought was a sorry sight.

The Smeargle slumped over, and the five-eyed creature slid to the corner of the room. Behind Phol was another one of those blobs, this time with three eyes and two small arms that it used for walking.

"Oh, you have one, too," Angelo remarked.

"It won't leave me alone," Phol grunted. "Still, at least it can get supplies."

"Mine can cook." Angelo gestured to his stir-fry. "…I'm not sure how, but…"

Phol waved dismissively. "Angelo, do you have time to come with us? We need your help."

"Is the hospital at capacity again?"

"They might be tomorrow. We got word that Micro Riverside's inhabitants ran into a mutant and the casualties weren't pretty. They were on their way, but then ran into another one…"

"Oh, Mew…"

"Elder sent scouts and that Joltik to check on them, but we fear the worst. But now, we're organized enough that we need to toughen up the town. The Thousand strongest are spread thin, so only the administrative Hearts can actually help bring us up."

"Thousand strongest, hm." Angelo sighed. What was the point? The whole reason there were only a Thousand was because apparently there was only enough energy to maintain a thousand Badges. But now those were useless. Did that dissolve the Hearts, too? Hopefully that didn't send things into more chaos.

Phol had been talking and he missed it. Angelo perked up, and it seemed that Phol noticed. "Did you get any of that?"

"Er—toughening up. Does that include me?"

"Yes. Do you know Protect?"

"I do."

"Can you demonstrate it?"

Angelo nodded, standing up and setting his half-eaten stir-fry on his bed. Suddenly self-conscious of the noticeable, Angelo-shaped depression in it, he moved the blanket over the mattress. Clutching his tail, he drew a circle in the air, and a sea blue barrier formed around him, fading seconds later.

"Good. Then you can help teach the others the same technique."

"Protect? Why Protect?"

"While most Pokémon here aren't the best at fighting, more focused on their own careers, there are still some invaluable skills that we can use no matter our skill level. Protect is one of them, and it only takes a little practice to get it going, and from there, it's easy to repeat and strengthen."

"Right…"

"Not to mention, nearly everyone is capable of it," Phol added. "Right now, there are people in the town square trying to enchant some discs with aura so it can be passed onto others. We found a whole store of blank ones in the Heart HQ, perhaps ready to be enchanted for other techniques. We'll be using some of those to spread Protect."

"Oh, I'm, I don't know how to enchant," Angelo said. "I thought only Anam could do that, and maybe others with, er, with a lot of practice. But Anam was the prodigy, right?"

"Well, I can, and I've already enchanted a few. If you can't, then perhaps instead you can help the townsfolk practice."

Angelo hemmed and hawed a few times, and Phol tapped his foot with the occasional halfhearted encouragement. Eventually, Angelo relented, and when he was finished with his meal, he stepped out of his bedroom and followed Phol to the town square.


Spice narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the southern horizon, standing at the very peak of Kilo Village's crater. "I don't trust those clouds," she said. "Too dark."

"Could be rain," Leo replied, though his eyes were more focused on the base of the mountain. "Spice, is that a mutant?"

Her eyes darted down. A Rampardos was wobbling around the lower edges, though there didn't seem to be anything abnormal about it from afar. "Maybe he had one too many swigs," Spice mused. "He doesn't look hostile."

"Hmm…" Leo fidgeted again. "I hate sentinel duty. I'm so helpless. I should be home making sure my parents are safe. What if another mutant attacks? Or those wraiths in the Dungeons get out somehow?"

"Yotta Outskirts is way too important to be left unguarded," Spice assured him, patting his shoulder. "And those wraiths never leave Dungeons."

"I suppose…"

Spice looked down again, but her eyes trailed to the dark clouds. They were closer than ever. Occasionally, she saw purple lightning dance along the bottom of them. "It's not normal lightning," she said.

"Well, I don't know what it is."

"I think it's coming from the other side of the world."

Leo gave her an odd look, and Spice ignored it.

"That isn't one of your sleep-deprived theories again, is it?" Leo asked. "Ever since Yotta Village, you've said that you can feel something underground."

"Well, I do. Or maybe not underground… Just far away. I feel it everywhere sometimes. Up north, where that Dark Matter storm keeps swirling… Southwest, by that Void Basin place…" Spice motioned vaguely in its direction, though all they could see was a lush, green forest, even at their height. "And then underground. Chances are it's actually on the other side of the world."

"Nothing but ocean there," Leo said with a frown. "Spice, did you get any—"

"No. Stop asking." It was a routine question by now. "Just accept it like I have. I don't sleep anymore. I've been fine."

"It's been half a moon at this point…"

"And I'm just fine." Spice shrugged, though she did admit—inside, not out loud—that it was starting to worry her. Fifteen days of no sleep, with no side effects? Something was seriously wrong with her, but she didn't want to take up the hospitals' time right now. Her performance as a Heart was more productive than ever, though, so it couldn't be all bad…

Leo shifted his weight again, playing with his robe-like fur, and then with his ears.

"If anything, you're the one acting sleep-deprived," Spice said. "What's gotten into you? Burned your bed?"

"I haven't burned my bed since I was a kit, thank you," Leo growled. "Ugh! Is our shift almost over?"

"How about I go down and check?" Spice slipped off of her rocky seat and glanced at the steep slope behind him. "Don't follow me! You'll trip and fall!"

Leo grumbled something, but the wind drowned it out, and Spice hopped from slope to slope. She was tempted to go straight to the HQ when she saw the crowd gathering at the Central Waypoint. Leo could wait a little while longer.

On her way there, she was flagged down and asked if she knew Protect, which was odd and annoying. Sure, Protect would have helped her guard against attacks, but it wasn't her style, and learning a whole technique like that was cumbersome. It wasn't as if the blessings from berries worked on her anyway. How was society today any different for her? It was just like living in the south before annexation.

Still, they were persistent. "I have a whole battle setup, you know," Spice complained.

But the Hypno that flagged her down shook his head and said, "But we need to switch to more defensive fighting styles, now. Come on. At least try to learn it."

Spice sighed. "I've got scouting to do."

"It won't be long. You can practice on your own later, Heart."

So, he knew she was a Heart. She didn't even have to flash the Badge. Must have been the lightning scars…

Oh, that was probably why the lightning made her nervous.

"Salazzle?"

"Right, coming."

She was given the fast track and cut in front of most of the others waiting. Apparently being a Heart meant they wanted her to get right back to work. Understandable, and good, because she wasn't about to stand in a line this long or this crowded. It felt even more packed than the Ceremony of Advancement.

The discs were strange, reflective materials that shined in the sun like prismatic coins. A weak aura flowed through all of them, little gifts and enchantments that had been left there. Anam was able to do this sort of work with a sneeze; it took these Pokémon, if they could do it at all, several kiloseconds to get it all done.

"There was this kid I knew who had a weirdly colored Protect," Spice remarked while she waited for the aura to resonate with hers. "Sort of a bright yellow, or gold, or something, like the sun."

"Oh, gold aura folks?" remarked a nearby Cinderace. "I have a friend who's got that! Used to show it off at parties. Really rare."

"I noticed something about that, actually. All of the Pokémon that are channeling Protect into these things… they all happen to have golden auras. I've never seen it all in one place. I thought it was just a myth!"

"Nah, that Incineroar at the hospital? The one who handles the unruly patients? He's got a gold Protect."

Spice rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe we can all get together and have a gold Protect party and show off how shiny our spirits are." She wanted to roll her eyes and look skyward, but the disk on top of her made movement risky. "Is this thing done yet? I kind of feel like an idiot with this on my head."

"Almost, almost," said a nervous-sounding Gothitelle. "It's taking a while for your aura to register it, I think… You can tell when the disc gets dull."

"Right." Spice sighed, flicking her tail impatiently. If anything, she was irritated that she would be expected to keep this on her quick-draw techniques rather than something she could draw on situationally. Defensive policy… who had the authority?!

"All done!"

"Finally." Spice sat up and inspected the disc, no longer very prismatic. "Alright, see you—"

"Can you use it once to make sure it worked?"

"Fine, fine. Give me a second to find it…"

Spice closed her eyes, drawing into herself. It definitely felt different. She remembered someone vaguely… someone who used to draw out Protect with a certain pose. It looked silly… but maybe, intuitively, it would help.

Spice crossed her arms and drew out her spirit's shield.

It suddenly got a lot darker, and at the same time, several people gasped. Spice dropped her shield and looked around. "What was—"

And it was brighter again, and Spice stepped in a small circle. "Why did it get dark? Is Dark Matter coming? Are those clouds—"

But everyone was staring at her.

"What?"

She glanced at the Gothitelle, who seemed too stunned and confused. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "We just, er…"

"Wow… if gold's supposed to be rare… what's black mean?"

"Black?" Spice spun around to face the Cinderace. "What do you mean?"

"Your Protect. It was black."

"Black."

Spice tried it again with some difficulty, and the world was dark like twilight again. That wasn't the sky. That was her shield, pulsing with black waves of non-light from the top to her feet. She loosened her post and stood up straight.

"Well," she said, "I've got Protect. That's all I need, right?"

"Um, yes. Yes, sorry for keeping you, Heart. Thank you for your service." Gothitelle bowed.

"Thanks." Hasty, and without another word, she crawled to the Heart HQ to ask for a scout rotation.

She should have done that in the first place.


It had been four days since Marshadow had left Null Village with Owen and the others, and Jerry was starting to get worried. Perhaps not concerned—Owen had a knack for finding ways to pull things off, like saving his own hide—but for what was taking them so long. Did he find his mother? And then what? This place was too big.

"Aerodactyl, are you feeling alright?"

Jerry stiffened and glanced left to a Breloom chaperone, standing by the wall of a great, obsidian room. "Yeah," he replied. "Just thinking."

They were in some sort of communal dining hall, from what Jerry had gathered, lined with long tables and plates of all sizes. Before Jerry was a plate of meats. He'd long since learned that it was all imitation meat—finding real meat, let alone low-level ferals in the Voidlands was next to impossible—but it was a darn good substitute. Maybe even better than what Kilo had, though considering how hungry he'd felt lately, his judgement could have been clouded.

Next to him was Zena, and then by her, Demitri and Mispy. They were all on a tour of Null Village and were on a break to enjoy lunch. They'd seen all the facilities, the residential district, even the entertainment district. The technology there had been... confusing. Jerry hadn't recognized half of it.

Next on the agenda was the town perimeter. Now that they'd all been cleared of their 'evaluation' period, they had to start searching for jobs to help contribute to Null Village, no matter how long or short they intended to stay. Fair, he supposed, but it only reminded him of that cursed Broken Heart system when he'd been arrested. Was this any different?

He had to get out. There had to be a way, right? He certainly felt alive. And after everything that had happened… to die now, and get stuck here?

There had to be more to it. He felt it in his gut.

Mispy mumbled something to Demitri, who nodded awkwardly and whispered to Jerry next, "Do you think they allow seconds?"

"Don't look at me. Feels like I'm on thin ice as it is."

"What? Did you get in trouble?"

"No."

"Then why?"

"I always feel that way."

Demitri frowned and inched away, eyes searching uselessly around the dining hall.

Aside from himself, the pair, and Zena, they were accompanied by a tired-looking Slowpoke and a shifty-eyed Scyther. Neither were much for conversation; Jerry wasn't sure they could have a conversation. They were probably C or D.

"What class did you guys wind up getting?" Jerry suddenly asked Demitri and Mispy.

"B for both of us," Demitri said. "I think it has to do with, y'know, the whole mutant memory scramble thing."

Jerry finished his plate and glanced at Zena. "You? Think I forgot to ever ask."

"C," Zena admitted, looking away.

"C, eh… you had it pretty rough out there."

"I can't remember how rough I had it, is the part that worries me," the Milotic said with a hum. "The only reason I know anything is because Owen told me."

"Yeah, you two spent a lot of time together," Jerry remarked. "Still, you barely knew each other, too."

"We didn't?" Zena asked.

"I mean, what, a moon or two at most. That's nothing."

"Maybe it was love at first sight," Demitri piped up.

Mispy frowned, and Zena mirrored it.

"I don't think I'm fond of that idea," Zena said. "That's so strange. When I saw him, I was very… happy. Like some deep part of me was happy to see him. Why, then, did I only know him for such a short time?"

"You were pretty alone before then," Jerry said. "Maybe Owen was the first person to be something like a friend."

"Mm." Zena looked down at her plate, then pushed it forward. Despite the huge portions, the Milotic had eaten it all. The chef in the back—a Typhlosion—had a wide grin.

Jerry looked back at Zena. "What, having second thoughts?" He smirked.

"A little."

Didn't expect that one. "What?"

"Sorry. Just thinking." Zena sighed.

Pots and pans gently clattered in the kitchen from the chefs cleaning up. Most of the others had finished eating and Jerry had gotten distracted. Hastily scarfing down the rest of his meal, he occasionally spared a glance at the Milotic, who was clearly still pensive.

"Jerry, was it?" Zena asked.

She had caught him while his mouth was full, so he nodded.

"Do you think I should, no, do you think it's… no…" She focused on the wall.

Mouth finally empty, he said, "If you're worried about Owen, I doubt he'd try to force anything too fast with you."

"But could we have already—two moons, Jerry. That's… that seems so unlike me."

"Didn't Owen tell you it was only that long?"

"He, I, we… Well, I think so. But it feels so much longer because it's all so vague, and—and what if the reason I felt so strongly for him was, well, what if I…"

Jerry didn't have the emotional investment to continue. He shrugged, uncommitted, and finished his meal. "Ask him yourself," he defaulted.

Just then, a siren echoed across town—they had heard that a few times, and it always indicated that scouts were returning and to be ready, just in case. But the rhythm was different, and for some reason, the chefs had stopped what they were doing. Their chaperones had suddenly left the building.

"What's going on?" Demitri asked, but Mispy was already sliding out the door. Jerry followed, Zena right behind him.

"Gahi…" Mispy sped up.

"What? You can sense him?"

"Mm."

Down the clay-tile roads and toward the large, pointed spire in the middle of town, Jerry carefully weaved past hasty guards and civilians. It was hard to tell which was which.

"Signal compliances are all clear!" someone shouted from above.

They must have followed the flashing pattern properly. A team of scouts flew away from the village next, and then came a tense silence. Jerry, not knowing what to do with himself, shifted his weight to his left foot, stretched his wings, and glanced at Zena again. She had a lost, distant look in her eyes, like she was trying to figure out how to feel.

"Just say hi to him," Jerry mumbled, jolting Zena out of her trance.

"What?"

"Even if you don't know how strongly to feel about him, you can still be friends with someone after two moons."

"Oh." Zena's ribbons folded over one another. "Am I that transparent?"

"You two have that in common."

Jerry looked up, and when he did, he was glad he wasn't holding anything. A great, looming shadow darkened the town, which had been lit only by the crystals that embedded the walls and the dim, red sky. Now the crystals seemed a little brighter, and the figure above them all the darker.

He knew this creature from the Book of Arceus. The shapes were basic, but seeing Dialga in person… that—that was Dialga, right?

"That can't possibly…" Someone to his left stepped forward.

"Dialga?" Demitri said. "From… from the Book? Dialga's here?"

"Which book?" Zena asked. "I'm sorry—I'm not very well-versed."

"Book of Arceus," Demitri said. "I mean, if Arceus is real, then Dialga must have been, too, but… here? In the Voidlands?"

A cold pit sank in Jerry's stomach. If even the gods were being imprisoned here, what hope did he have of escaping?

"Hello!" Marshadow called cheerfully from the top of Dialga's back. He hopped off of Dialga, fell at least twenty feet to the ground, and landed lightly. "Need a room in th' large-Pokémon eval building. Also need a high-security room in th' normal building fer another rescue. Lemme attend that one fer special permissions fer Charmander, too."

"Charmander? The class A?" This voice was from Steelix, who looked up at Dialga skeptically as he descended. "If this is the Timekeeper, what's the point in keeping him in evaluations? These buildings may be Protect-insulated, but I don't think they can withstand the wills of a god…"

"He's weakened," Marshadow said simply. "This is more fer temporary housing 'til we figure out what ter do."

Everyone had been riding on Dialga's back and hopped off as the great Legend descended. The slowest was Gahi, who had several parts of his body, particularly his tail, looking charred and blackened. He didn't shine like he usually did.

"What happened to him?" Jerry asked.

"Void Titan," Marshadow said.

Trina didn't look much better; her entire left half was dark and blistered with old, leafy scales, though a new set was growing in. Jerry winced, wondering if it would scar, but then turned his attention to Eon. The Ditto took the form of a Charizard, and was carrying several bags over his shoulder, and was noticeably distanced from Owen. Uncharacteristic. Maybe they got in another spat.

Owen himself, though…

Despite having no injuries, Owen looked like he was doing the worst. Dull eyes stared at a blob of darkness that looked to be frozen in place.

…They had gone off to rescue Amia, hadn't they? Where was—

A sudden weight dragged Jerry's stomach downward from the inside and he looked away. "Well, they're back," he muttered. "Don't we have a town tour to finish?"

"Can it wait?" Zena asked.

"It's gonna wait," Marshadow said, and then made eye contact with several other scouts and guards. "Everyone rest fer now. I gotta straighten out a few things."

The scouts, organized as ever, escorted Dialga to an oversized building further down the clay roads. More scouts came with a strange, glass-like container and placed the Void Shadow inside before rolling it into the main evaluation building. Owen followed them, and thanks to whatever permissions Marshadow had given him, they let him through.

Jerry's legs worked without him thinking, and he followed them in, too.