NSO Chapter 48
3 days remaining.
I don't own Pokemon.
One turret left. It hung from the ceiling, its laser-guided sights trained on him since the start of the exercise.
Zenith ran along the squarish sides of the Gym, while a spray of airsoft pellets trailed behind him. They were faster than the blue and red balls from yesterday, barely outpaced by the Umbreon.
He had given up on using 'speed' to get closer to these turrets. Probably through Dialga's tinkering, the turrets continued to track Zenith normally in his time-slowed state, ready to resume fire once he ran out of breath.
He estimated the turret to be ten metres off the ground, around three Pulses high. There may be a way to take advantage of this ceaseless attention on him. Zenith fired a Dark Pulse to his left and right, while the one charging in his mouth was released straight at the turret. He jumped above the sphere, watching white pellets tear holes through the dim orb.
Boom. With time to prepare, it was easier for Zenith to direct himself towards the moves he had launched earlier. The left Dark Pulse had been released at a lower angle than the right, and for good reason.
Boom. Zenith's forehead tingled under an unblinking gaze. He twisted his body to face the last Pulse.
Boom. The ridges in the design provided sufficient pawholds for his claws to hook into, hanging on for dear life with one forelimb while the other felt around the turret's flat armoured head.
And… boop. His paw pushed down on a button. The rotating barrels slowed to a stop. The turret slumped over, deactivated. As it retracted back into the ceiling. a white tile covered up the hole it had peeked out from, the inner mechanisms of this facility concealed once more.
However, the glass that separated Champion from his mentor still stayed up.
"Good job," Dialga stood at the control panel. "Now that you are decent at dodging, let's focus on expanding your combat competency. You'll create your own weapon soon enough, but you have to know how to fight unarmed first."
That statement earned him a puzzled look. "No offence, Dialga, but I've been fighting unarmed my entire life. Not that I'm not looking for ways to improve, or—"
"You need to kill."
'Dead' appropriately described the following silence. Zenith blinked at Dialga as the word truly sunk into his recognition.
"But I… but I can't—"
"Can't do it, I know. A minor setback, but we can resolve that issue quickly. Let—"
"No, it's just… I don't understand. Why do I have to… do it?"
"Zenith. Let me appeal to those mortal morals you still seem to have. The Pokemon you target are the worst of the worst. They are masterminds behind the suffering of countless Pokemon, and those under their employment are no different.
The mission that Champions undertake is to rid the world of these hidden evils. And during these missions, conflict is almost always inevitable." Dialga pressed a button on his control panel.
A tile in the wall opened up, and something stepped out. It was a quadruped robot, Zenith could see the internal mechanics through its translucent blue 'skin'. Around the same size and build, the only differences were its smooth, featureless head and a wire-thin tail. It uncannily resembled his subconscious, and that thought distracted Zenith enough until it was right on top of him.
"You will be fighting for your life, and so will they."
The robot tackled Zenith, managing to pin him down with the advantage of surprise. Though eyeless, the Umbreon could feel it return his piercing stare.
He wants me to 'kill'… this thing.
I don't have to do it. I can be better.
Right?
The bot wasn't very heavy. A kick upwards lifted it off Zenith, and ripples danced across blue silicone skin when a Dark Pulse slammed into its midriff. He made sure the explosion was small enough to just send it back a few metres.
"They will not hesitate to use any dirty trick in the book that helps them see another day."
Zenith was aware of more blue presences in the room. Four more robots had entered the Gym, exact copies of the one he was grappling with.
"Another day where they continue to exploit. Torture. Slaughter masses."
The five bots rushed at Zenith separately, and he beat them away in that order. However, they always landed back on their feet after a tumble, instantly charging him again.
"Tell me, how do you rehabilitate someone so full of sin?"
It was a cycle, and one stage was getting harder to keep up with. While erratic at first, the robots were starting to coordinate their attacks—and adapt to his. It was as if they were mocking Zenith's attempts to hold back when his usual Dark Pulses were now shrugged off.
"They'll keep reverting to doing the same awful things again."
He had no way to incapacitate them.
"And again."
They were robots. They could do this all day. He was flesh. Tired flesh.
"And again."
One leapt onto his back from behind. The many light weights quickly piled up faster than he could throw them off, slowly but surely pinning the exhausted Umbreon to the ground.
"What will you have accomplished as a Champion then?" Dialga's voice was getting louder. From underneath the dogpile, Zenith felt the floor vibrate with the might behind his words.
"Who will benefit from your acts of 'mercy'?"
Zenith had gotten a paw free from the mass of writhing limbs. Limbs whose azure skin was starting to protrude outwards, straining against forces pushing from below.
His eyes widened as blades the size of kitchen knives unsheathed from their paws.
Three blades per front paw.
Thirty in all.
Six in particular that were pointed at his head, by a robot that straddled his neck.
"How will you make a change if YOU don't change?"
The Legendary's words reverberated throughout the Gym. They rang clearly in his head, forcing out all lingering thoughts.
Not that there was any time to overthink. His head had been yanked back by the ears. The imminent threat literally loomed over him, inching closer.
He had somehow managed to free an arm in his struggle.
I really don't wa—AAAARGH!
Six razor-sharp tips met no resistance when they simultaneously pierced the top of his head, lighting his nerves ablaze. It had been way too long since he had felt pain this concentrated, back when he had been strapped down on an infirmary bed on Earth.
This feeling was not missed.
With a shout that surpassed his mental cry, Zenith swung up as hard as he could, desperately hoping that something—anything—would make it stop.
There was a crunch, but his focus was on the slight ease of agony, a temporary relief when the blades sunk no deeper into his temples.
A weight dragged on his wrist when he pulled it back, landing on the floor with a thud.
Zenith wrenched his paw out of the motionless blue body. Bits of metal and plastic flew out of the hole punctured in its head.
The pressures that had pinned him down were gone too. The robots had dispersed, now circling the Umbreon in a slow prowl. Their 'claws' glinted menacingly in the white light.
They weren't just going to pin him down this time.
Zenith let a Dark Pulse charge up as the robots drew closer. He was okay with standing still for a while, especially when his mind was hyper-focusing on every affliction.
Blood has stained the lens of his eye, tinting half of his vision red. At least it hadn't blurred with how much blood there was. It welled up constantly at the six gashes left in him, and ran in rivulets through his fur, streaming down his face and neck. He felt the itch to wipe some of it away, but the steady stream of crimson droplets splattering on the tiles below was a good reminder of what would happen if he lowered his guard.
His head throbbed with pain. His breathing was still frantic, matching the manic rhythm of his heart that beat loud between his ears. It was a deafening cacophony of his ragged gasps for air, and the roaring currents of fluids within him as they were pumped out his body through gushing wounds.
Focus.
The ring was shrinking. One of them had to make a move eventually, and when the moment came…
Things have changed.
I want to make a change.
I have. to. change.
A bot leapt at him, swiping wildly. Manoeuvring around the blades in slow motion, Zenith reflexively flung his Dark Pulse at it.
A Dark Pulse, which setting a limit on its size had slipped his aching mind. Unbeknownst to him, he had let it continue charging until it left his paw.
The orb was four times larger than normal when he shot it into the robot's chest. Not even his stunt yesterday involved a pulse that big.
Oh, shi-
At that size, his attack had a vastly different effect than before. The explosion was massive, and in such a cooped-up space, everything was blasted by immense force. Resulting shockwaves of darkness rippled through the training area in numerous waves, keeping them pinned to the walls.
Shadows finally faded to light. Zenith slid to the ground, a sticky red trail smeared on the wall behind him. The aftermath was clear: another robot was down, its parts and strips of 'skin' strewn around the gym.
Can't leave…
Something picked him up by the scruff, hurling him against the same wall he bloodied. The air was knocked from his lungs, and Zenith struggled to inhale more with the two paws pressing on his trachea. He scrabbled against this vice-like grip, eyes searching his opponent for some way out of this.
…have to get rid of the rest.
There was a small 'x' on the neck of the bot, marked in a slightly lighter shade than the rest of the skin. From his expanded knowledge of anatomy, Zenith knew that underneath the mark lay the windpipe for any living quadruped. Was this a coincidental discolouration, or an intentional design?
He did not care which it was. Under this much pressure, it was an opportunity, not a choice.
A Shadow Ball ripped a hole straight through the robot's neck. It crumpled immediately, hydraulics slackening enough for him to free his neck.
Need… rid…
Zenith's thoughts were getting sluggish and fragmented, probably due to the amount of blood he had lost. But there were still two robots left.
Two 'x's he had seen so far; he spotted the other on the forehead of this deactivated robot.
Two words that his task had been reduced to, repeating themselves in time to a slowing heartbeat.
KILL. THEM.
Sharp pain from his shoulder directed him back towards the current threat: a robot had lunged at him with both paws outstretched. It missed, barely nicking his shoulder before the two sets of claws impaled into the wall behind. Caught between its arms, Zenith could hear the whirrs and grinding of gears from within, but these claws were stuck fast.
Giving him a clear view of an 'x' on each wrist.
Two Shadow Balls severed the paws from their arms. Another blow to the off-balance robot toppled it backwards. Exposed wires sparked wildly as its arms spun circles in the air, fizzling out only when another projectile punched through its 'face'.
KILL THEM.
There was one last robot, and Zenith managed to avoid a collision as it rushed at him. However, its run cycle did not falter, jumping onto the incoming wall to keep going. Leaping from one vertical surface to another, the streak tracing the perimeter of the Gym was picking up speed, head indistinguishable from tail in a blue blur.
A sudden wave of fatigue washed over him, his exertions finally catching up in his moment of stillness. The Umbreon hung his head, a deadweight upon his neck. His eyes longed to close, but he forced them back open, staring at his murky reflection in a pool of blood.
A single bead of sweat dripped from his fur. It struck the calm surface of the crimson liquid. Zenith could see the crater created in the fluid surface, followed by a crown around it. A central jet protruded from the centre of the crater. His eyes tracked the rising jet until it pinched off, smaller droplets splashing out of the surface. Ripples spread slowly across the pool, the small curve of every wave warping his reflection.
He was still time-slowed.
Zenith looked up. The robot's actions were clear now; it had pushed off from a wall, telegraphing a leap right onto him. It was travelling in an arc, on its way to reaching the peak of its jump.
He squinted, narrowing the already fading vision in one side of his head. There was another 'x' on the exposed underside, located atop a component barely visible through diaphanous silicone. A black box with a beeping red light. It was labelled with an electrical symbol, conduits snaking from its sides to other hidden parts.
KILL IT.
A blue glow surrounded the battery, isolating it in one place. As time resumed flow, existing momentum dragged the rest of the robot forward while the battery remained stationary, stubbornly refusing to budge.
The former was the first to give. With a rip, the battery was left suspended in the air, the body plummeting like a stone.
It crashed onto the gym floor, and Zenith's legs buckled at the same time. There were no more robots active. He had done it.
I… killed… them.
The glass wall retracted back into the floor. Dialga walked up to his Champion, veering around the large puddle in which the Umbreon had collapsed. He was still alive and conscious, noting the shift in Zenith's glazed eyes to focus on his mentor's approach.
"Congratulations, Zenith. You did about as well as I had expected."
Ragged and erratic breathing was the only response.
Dialga sighed, eyes glowing a bright blue. Protocol was to bring the injured Zenith to the Infirmary, but there was no time in his schedule for that.
"Consider this a favour."
The first breath of fresh air was a slap to his senses, jumpstarting Zenith back into reality. The pain was subsiding, blood trails on his body reversing back into wounds that were closing back up. Torn fur regrew, and matted fur untangled themselves, bringing Zenith back to a pre-fight appearance. The pool of blood remained untouched, and he immediately collapsed back onto it once he tried to stand.
"You'll be experiencing a bit of blood loss. Obviously. Just sit down and listen to me."
"What… how… huh?"
"I just reversed time around you back to a previous state. Keep on my training schedule, and you'll be able to do that too. Now, listen-"
"But… I still remember the… the exercise?"
Dialga scoffed at such a naive statement.
"I'll let that insult slide for now. Our power is extremely precise. It'll only affect the parts of your body I WANT to affect. I left your mind untouched so you can remember the exercise, and all you have to do now is JUST. Listen."
Another sigh from Dialga. The Legendary looked away from his Champion, staring into a distance that Zenith, in his current position, could not follow.
"That was just a small, simple taste of real combat. I know you're used to those scrappy fights in the schoolyard, but as I've emphasised many times before, you have to change that narrow way of thinking. Things no longer revolve around your ordinary mortal life. You have an impact on the bigger picture now, and you have to play your part. If not…"
Dialga trailed off.
"…If you can't do that, then maybe I misjudged the potential I saw in you."
Even as Dialga turned away, even as the back of the Legendary grew smaller when he walked towards the Gym's exit…
"Don't you have someplace to run off to now, Schroff?"
Drenched in his own blood, Zenith had never felt smaller.
…
Zenith sat in the Combat Chamber. Like any sports stadium, rows and rows of seats surrounded the ovalish arena in ascending stair-like arrangements. Beams and rods of all thicknesses crisscrossed from columns to the covered ceiling, from which hung powerful floodlights. Their powerful beams of light illuminated the area, but there were spaces where shadows lurked.
Including a shadow of doubt.
He had finally 'killed', though his first two had been accidental. However, it was the final three that worried him the most. He had been beaten and bruised, pushed physically to a point where he wanted them dead. It was the only way to stop the… the suffering he faced.
He was a Champion now, the newest addition to the team of eight.
Did they condone murder too?
"I know that face. You just killed someone."
Zenith jumped at the voice from above. Void dangled upside down from the ceiling's support beams with her tail. Swinging off like a trapeze artist, the Noivern showed off her impressive wingspan with a mid-air twirl
as she descended beside him.
"How—how'd you know?"
"I used to be an assassin." She said it so matter-of-factly that Zenith had to do a double-take.
"Sorry, what?"
"An assassin. Here." Still perched on the backrest of the seat, Void extracted a Half-Life disc case from her chest fluff. A gentle toss landed it on Zenith's lap. "You can skip it if you're too squeamish. You don't mind blood, right?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Neat."
The two of them sat in silence for a while. Void's spiny tail swished back and forth aimlessly. Zenith turned the purple case over in his paws.
"So… I guess you liked to kill?"
"Um." Void seemed to ponder that question for a bit. "Maybe. I mean, it was the only thing I was actually taught how to do. And trained to do. And ordered to do."
Another pause before Zenith's ears pricked up at a small whisper, spoken in a hushed tone that he was sure wasn't supposed to be heard by him.
"I don't think I really know how to do anything else."
"Anyways!" Void almost shouted the word. "What about you? Who'd you kill?"
"Oh. I had to… deactivate some robots."
"Baby steps." Zenith felt the pat of claws on his back with reinvigorated gusto. "So, how'd ya feel about your first couple of kills?"
"I feel awful. Do Champions really have to kill all the time?"
"Yep."
The both of them looked at each other.
"Oh. You want an incentive to murder."
"More like a justification?"
"Well… the Pokemon we're taking down are evil. Worse than you can possibly imagine. They work completely off the grid and are extremely hush-hush, so you may not even have heard of them or their operations. The things they do there…it's chilling. Every single Pokemon working there is irredeemable. And if they show no remorse for the crimes they commit, why should we when killing them?"
"Doesn't that make us no different from them?"
"I think there's a bit of a distinction. Mostly that we're trained for this. And by Legendaries, even. It's not like Arceus doesn't know good from bad."
Zenith touched his temple.
"I don't feel trained yet."
"Yeah, but that's 'cause you're new here. You'll get some real-world practice soon enough. For now, just go with the flow of your training. At least, that's how it worked out between me and Marshadow. Pick up everything you can. Your mentor knows you best, and I'm sure he wants the best for you too. So the stuff you learn should be helpful in actual combat. Hopefully."
Reassuring.
"We also have a weekly spar with each other. Which they fit our session into."
As if on cue, Champions started to stream into the Combat Chamber, along with their mentors. Each Champion sat where they liked. Most of them gravitated towards where Void and Zenith already sat, exchanging small words of passing with one other.
Meanwhile, Solaire sat as far away from him as possible. He could feel her gaze burning a hole in his forehead even from so far away.
Maganza had stopped moving ever since she entered the facility.
Son Dan-O sat by herself, her leaf hoodie pulled closed around her beak.
All the Legendaries were grouped together on a large balcony high above the stadium seats, engaged in deep discussion. Marshadow, Deoxys, Registeel, Darkrai, Mew, Hoopa, Shaymin and Mewtwo. As Void pointed out, everyone's mentor was here…
…except for his. Dialga was not among the gathering of Legendaries.
"They're arranging our sparring partners. They may not include you, since you're new—"
"Zenith and Maganza," Mewtwo announced.
"—Okay then. Good luck, Zenith." He heard similar encouragements from the other Champions around him, but they were muffled as he made his way down the aisle. Maganza had already been teleported into the arena, still stationary.
"Tournament rules. Sparring session begins in three… two… one."
A shadowy arm shot out and grabbed a stunned Zenith by the throat. It lashed like a whip, hurling the Umbreon aside with a sharp CRACK. The other three extended one by one from her body, slamming down on the floor hard enough to kick up dust.
His paws found the floor again as he flew, slowing him down enough to stop short of the circular walls. That throw had sent him halfway across the arena. Intended or not, she had given him time to process this new Champion-related event.
Tournament rules. Right. Zenith knew about them from Uxie's 'lessons'. A simple, no-holds-barred battle between two Pokemon until one of them either faints or yields, whichever comes first. It was just another battle like before. He was no stranger to circumstances like these.
He could not say the same about Maganza though. The speed of her limbs already surprised him once. And her responsiveness, or lack thereof, gave her actions unpredictability.
Zenith rushed back at her, a Dark Pulse growing in his mouth. The arms that snaked towards him all grabbed handfuls of thin air as he dodged around them nimbly. With the grasping threats behind him, there was a window to pounce onto Maganza's chest, and a point-blank Dark Pulse detonation sent both Pokemon reeling backwards. Maganza's toppling body was caught by her arms, keeping it parallel to the floor as they skittered her across the arena. Zenith easily kept up with her, forcing the Cofagrigus to zig and zag to evade his barrage of Shadow Balls.
They were nearing the edge of the arena again, but this time it was on his terms. Maganza had finally been backed into a corner, and Zenith had another Dark Pulse charging in his jaws, aimed right at that wide grin of hers. The eternal smile was plastered across her face, masking any sign of emotion or deliberation. It unnerved him, but he had the advantage this time and was determined to make full use of it. He took in a deep breath, watching the projectile grow a bit more—
He was suddenly aware of two hands that had risen out of the ground next to him. They twined themselves around his front legs and yanked him forwards, reeling him forwards so fast that his yelp of surprise was directly in Maganza's face. The Dark Pulse still went off, but with her back braced against the wall, the Cofagrigus hardly flinched at the explosion.
That smile. Zenith pulled on his restraints, unable to break free. Those two rows of sharp teeth separated to reveal licks of purple flame burning in a gaping abyss.
Void winced at Zenith's cry of pain. She knew how it felt being at the receiving end of a Will-O-Wisp, and being slammed into the ground shortly after wasn't pleasant either. As much as she loved an underdog, she doubted if the Umbreon could withstand the onslaught that awaited him.
Twinges of agony wracked his body. Prickling sensations pierced the layers under his skin as Zenith picked himself off the arena floor again. The floor that was… glowing?
A light blue cuboid with translucent sides had appeared in the arena. It was large enough to occupy half of the battlefield, enclosing the two Champions within it. The light blue glow then faded away, and the sides of the rectangle became invisible.
A strange feeling passed over Zenith. Gravity seemed to have strengthened its pull on him, tripling his weight—and the amount of effort required to move a muscle. On the other paw, Maganza was feeling the opposite effect. She pushed off from the arena walls with ease, a single leap that covered half the distance between her and a struggling Zenith. The moment she landed, the four powerful springboards that were her arms sent the Cofagrigus soaring back into the air.
Zenith looked up to track her ascent. The lights above him were all blocked out, covered by a silhouette that was rapidly increasing in size.
His limbs were sluggish and aching in protest, but he forced each one underneath his body. Focused on putting all his strength into his screaming muscles, willing them to push as hard as they could.
MOVE!
Void heard a gasp behind her at Zenith's roll out of the way. Maganza slammed onto the ground a split second later. A cloud of dust kicked up that only grew in size as Maganza repeated the move, covering the battlefield until the only thing visible was the Cofagrigus leaping back into the air.
Zenith coughed. He had gotten somewhat accustomed to this room's tricks and managed to stand up, although the ground rumbling beneath him threatened his balance. He couldn't see a metre ahead, much less his opponent or the edges of the 'room'.
THUD. Dust swirled from another tremor, far from where he stood. There wasn't even a silhouette of the Pokemon that had caused it. Everything had been obscured.
Including him.
THUD. There was an opportunity here; a chance to use a strategy like before. The air was too dirty to draw a deep enough breath, and each heavy foot forward required more. He just hoped that he had enough left.
THUD. Maganza slammed inches away from Zenith, knocking him back onto his rump. A whoosh and she was gone again, leaving a hole punctured in the clouds above. The Umbreon squinted up at the light of stadium LEDs, and that silhouette outlined in its glare. Dust particles were suspended in the air that only moved at his touch.
He'd have about 15 seconds.
There were definite differences, Zenith noted, as he charged up Dark Pulses. Besides the burns that inflicted constant pain with every movement.
This battle, this situation, this sequence of moves… all nearly identical to that back on Earth. He had more confidence in his abilities then. He even doubted that this, which had taken down Kurt, would have the same effect on such a stronger opponent. Since he entered the Halls, the rug had been pulled from beneath his feet. Every battle here had ended in desperation, fear, fighting for his life.
And his mind was as quiet as ever.
Black orbs ballooned into existence, rupturing the created cloud cover. Shot from a multitude of directions, they converged towards the plummeting Cofagrigus.
BOOM.
The explosion blew all the dust into the stands. He could hear the coughs and wheezes from the audience, but the spectating Pokemon were no longer in sight.
Zenith padded over to Maganza, who was laying on the floor. Her red eyes were open, staring intently at him. The dark aura that enveloped her body and sourced her arms was gone. She did not move when he climbed into her chest, Shadow Ball in paw. She just watched him raise it to her face and meet her perpetual smile. It was time to end this fight.
Like before.
No. He shook his head, steadying his trembling paw. Things were no longer like before. He had to go further. To do what was expected–no, needed of him. He needed to k—
Zenith flickered under the gaze of a new pair of eyes. Dialga. For a Pokemon with such a huge frame, Zenith hadn't noticed the Legendary enter the Combat Chamber, or take his place on the balcony with the others. There he stood in the back row, where he towered over the other mentors easily. Had he been watching the battle from the start?
"This concludes your sparring session." Mewtwo's voice startled the Umbreon back into reality. "Congratulations, Zenith."
"Oh. Right." He could barely hear his own voice as he dissipated the Shadow Ball, stepping off Maganza.
Dialga was no longer looking at him.
Then Zenith threw up on the arena floor.
…
Zenith poked at the cookie on his plate. A single bite had been taken out of the pastry, the rest lay untouched. Like Palkia had described, the food before him looked exactly as he had imagined. Dry and flaky from when he accidentally spilt flour into the bowl. Misshapen because his mom didn't have cookie cutters at the time. He could remember her paws on his that gently guided the kneading of dough into a crude circle.
Zenith took another small nibble before finally pushing the plate away. The taste was heavenly. The only thing wrong with it.
"Feeling… batter?" Clara slowly eased her way onto the seat next to him. Band-Aids and bandages peppered most of her body from the neck down, with a thin red line in the middle of each fabric rectangle that hinted at precise, bloody cuts. "Ouch. Hey. At least you won your fight."
"Sorry." Void dropped down on Zenith's right. "It wasn't bad for your first-ever spar, though." The Noivern broke a large chunk off his cookie. "You're not eating this, right?"
"Nope." He watched her flip the piece into the air and catch it with her mouth. He wanted to ask her about the Erasure, but judging from what little she had divulged about her history, she…
"Shoot. I left your Past-Life back at the—"
"I gotcha." Void slid the purple case across the table. "Don't want you to catch up on everyone's backstories but mine, right?" She grinned at the grateful Umbreon who tucked it under his ear.
"I heard you three might be in here." Poll-E floated over the saloon doors and over to their table. "Congrats, Zenith. I think Maganza would've said the same."
"Thanks. But I didn't see you back there?"
"Yep… I'm not really a fighting Pokemon. Do you have your list? Wait. You don't have pockets. Give me a second." The Porygon-Z twitched in place for a moment. A red light blinked in the middle of her pupils. "Okay go. I'll record your words."
With Zenith preoccupied rattling off a bunch of features, Void turned her attention to the other Champion in the facility. "So," Void devoured the crumbling remains of the cookie. "Why'd you tag along?"
The Salazzle waved a hand in Poll-E's direction. "She asked me to help with his eye."
"… right. Anyways, about your moves earlier…"
"… and I think that's it."
"That's a long list. It's going to take me a few days to help you add all this." Poll-E gestured for Clara to come over. His lower eyelid was pulled down by a long, slender finger while the pointed fingertips of her other hand slowly slid the eye out into her cupped palm.
"There you go." The Salazzle passed the blue orb to Poll-E. "And my work here is done. You coming, Void?"
"Sure. Why not." Void hopped off her chair. "We'll see you around."
"So, you've met more than half the cast." Poll-E opened up a hatch in her body and placed the eye inside. "How do you feel?"
"Honestly?" Zenith turned back to his plate. All that was left were a few crumbs. "I feel more uncertain than before. The others are great, but it's all this Champion stuff. The Erasure, and now knowing that I have to kill… I don't know how long it'll take to get used to all this stuff."
"Woah, woah. Calm yourself." Poll-E floated to his side. "You've been here for what, five days? Feeling overwhelmed is natural when there's so much to process in such a short duration. Not to mention everyone here's new in your eyes. You need another Pokemon to share all of your problems with. What about Dialga?"
"I don't think he likes emotional stuff."
"Okay… what about Son Dan-O? She's a great listener. Plus she tried to help me with my stuff when I asked her."
"Son Dan-O?" Zenith thought back to the Decidueye and her constantly icy demeanour. "I think I'm meeting her tomorrow. Why not you?"
"I am not confident in my abilities to provide therapy outside of generic platitudes. If you'd like, I could drop her a word before your session. Give it a shot."
"Sure." Zenith sighed. He swept the crumbs off the plate, watching them disappear once they hit the table. "Tomorrow."