A/N: Shocker I actually got another chapter posted this quickly. Just had some free time due to Veteran's day and was able to get a lot done. Like I said I really have been wanting to get to this moment for as long as this fic has been in my head. The only hard part was figuring out how to make it all make sense for all parties involved to behave the way I wanted them to behave. I hope you all continue to enjoy this fic and if you like this next chapter and haven't done so yet leave a review and/or favorite this fic.
Ash felt himself stirring, a familiar weight against his side. Pikachu was nudging him, his fur singed in places and his eyes weary but determined. Groaning, Ash blinked, taking in the dawn light piercing through the smoke-streaked sky. The haze of smoke and ash filled the air, mingling with the coolness of morning, and he could feel the soreness in his limbs as he pushed himself upright from beneath a charred beam that had collapsed across his legs.
Pikachu gave a tired but encouraging "Pika," staying close as Ash dusted off and took in his surroundings. The aldea was nearly unrecognizable, reduced to smoldering ruins and broken structures. Fires still licked at the edges of several homes, and the acrid smoke clawed at his throat, making it hard to breathe or see very far.
The sight was eerily familiar, painfully similar to the first Solaran aldea he'd stumbled upon, burned and destroyed beyond recognition. He remembered the despair he had felt then, the hopelessness that had nearly driven him to turn back and save Saharos altogether. Now, as he stood in the midst of this fresh destruction, the weight of it pressed down on him even harder. These people had taken him in, shared their lives and homes with him. And now, so many of them were gone, their homes reduced to nothing but ash and rubble.
Moving slowly, Ash began to search through the remains, his eyes scanning for any supplies—anything that might be left behind. His throat was dry, his body drained from the battles, but he pushed himself to keep going. Water, food, even small medical supplies…anything would help.
As he lifted a half-buried wooden plank, he froze, his heart sinking. Beneath it lay the body of a Solaran man, his face still and eyes wide open, staring vacantly at the sky. Ash swallowed hard, the sight hitting him like a punch to the gut. Kneeling down, he reached out, gently closing the man's eyes. It felt like such a small gesture, but it was all he could offer. A silent acknowledgment, a moment of respect.
"Thank you," he murmured quietly, his voice hoarse. "For everything."
With a heavy heart, he began to dig a small, shallow grave nearby, the sandy soil giving way easily as he worked. He placed the man carefully within, covering him as best he could, creating a makeshift mound as a marker. It wasn't much, but it was the least he could do.
Rising, Ash looked around, searching through the haze for any sign of where the others might have gone. The swirling smoke obscured his vision, but he knew he had to find them. Misty, Brock, Soraya, Nadia…they had to be somewhere, regrouping, planning their next move. They couldn't have gone far.
"Come on, Pikachu," he said, his voice stronger now, the weight of his determination returning. He brushed a hand across Pikachu's back, feeling the little Pokémon's steadying presence beside him. They had to find the others. They had to keep going—no matter what lay ahead.
Ash tightened his grip on Pikachu, remembering the survival skills Soraya and her brothers had taught him in the unforgiving desert. He moved with careful steps, keeping his posture low and his body close to the ground, conserving every ounce of energy as he weaved through the ruins of the aldea. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning for any sign of useful supplies or indications of where the survivors might have gone.
A glint caught his eye near a half-collapsed structure, and he approached it cautiously. There, tucked beneath a pile of debris, he found an abandoned water holder—half-buried in sand but miraculously intact. He quickly pried it free, unscrewed the cap, and brought it to his lips, the cool water flooding his parched throat. He hadn't realized how desperate he was for it until the first sip hit his tongue.
After taking a few swallows, Ash knelt down and tilted the holder toward Pikachu, who drank eagerly, his eyes brightening as he lapped at the water. Ash smiled faintly, a surge of gratitude flooding him for his partner's resilience. They'd both taken a beating, but Pikachu was still here, by his side, pushing forward.
As Pikachu drank, Ash's mind drifted to the nightmarish vision of Iron Thorns towering over them, its armor gleaming with an unnatural power. The image of Zephyr atop that monster was seared into his memory, as was the horrifying sight of Misty's Mega Gyarados being struck down in one brutal blow. He clenched his fists at the memory, the power radiating from that creature feeling all too vivid in his mind.
How could something like that even exist?* Ash thought, frustration and confusion gnawing at him. Iron Thorns was unlike any Tyranitar he'd ever seen—larger, more brutal, and terrifyingly precise in its attacks. And with that mysterious orb Zephyr wielded, the Pokémon's power had only grown, transforming it into something beyond comprehension. No Tyranitar should be able to summon electricity like that, let alone wield it with such devastating force.
The memory played over in his mind, the relentless strikes, the overwhelming strength that had felled Donphan and Misty's Gyarados in mere moments. Ash felt a chill run through him as he recalled the glint in Zephyr's eyes, the ease with which he commanded the creature. It was as if he had unlocked some forbidden power, a force that defied the natural order.
"Pikachu," he muttered, his voice low as he glanced down at his partner. "We have to find a way to stop that thing. We can't let Zephyr…we can't let him keep using that power against everyone here."
Pikachu looked up at him, a glint of determination in his eyes, and Ash felt a renewed strength settle within him. He could see faint footprints in the sand, leading off in the direction of the Circle of the Ancients. It seemed the survivors had fled toward the sacred site, seeking refuge and regrouping.
Ash glanced down at Pikachu, a flicker of memory surfacing. He thought he'd heard Misty's voice calling out to him just before he'd blacked out beneath the debris. The sound had lingered, barely reaching his consciousness as he drifted in and out of awareness. But now, another sound punctured the silence—a low, rumbling roar that echoed through the dunes, vibrating through the air with an intensity that made his chest tighten.
He tensed, glancing around warily. His first thought was that Zephyr had returned, Iron Thorns in tow, ready to resume the devastation. The thought made his pulse quicken, but he knew he couldn't leave without investigating. He heard the roar again, more ragged this time, filled with a pain that struck him in a different way.
"Come on, Pikachu," Ash whispered, his voice low but determined. They made their way toward the source of the sound, moving quickly but cautiously, sand shifting beneath their feet as they ascended a dune.
As they crested the dune, Ash's eyes widened. Below, sprawled out on the sand, lay a Tyranitar, its scales caked with blood and its powerful body slumped in defeat. Deep gashes marred its sides, and the sand around it was stained dark with its blood. Tyranitar's breathing was labored, its chest heaving with each painful breath.
Pikachu stayed close as Ash started down the dune, his movements careful, measured. But as they neared, the Tyranitar's eyes flickered open, wild and full of defiance. It pushed itself up just enough to gather energy, and a glow began to build in its jaws—an attempted Hyper Beam, raw and fierce.
"Hey, easy," Ash said, raising his hands calmly. "We're not going to hurt you."
Tyranitar's energy faded, and it slumped back down, too weakened to maintain the attack. Its heavy eyelids fluttered, its breathing becoming shallower.
Ash approached slowly, his heart pounding with a mix of awe and sympathy. This powerful beast, a creature revered by the Solarans, was lying here in such pain. *If only Brock were here* he thought, glancing back to see Pikachu watching the Tyranitar with solemn eyes.
"I know you're in pain," Ash murmured softly, as if his words might somehow reach the creature's core. "But we're here to help, not to harm."
The Tyranitar's gaze lingered on Ash, wary but acknowledging his presence.
Ash knelt beside the injured Tyranitar, his movements calm and gentle. As he looked closer at its wounds, his heart sank—the gashes were deep, torn flesh exposing raw muscle and scales that had been shredded with brutal force. He wasn't a Nurse Joy, nor did he have Brock's medical expertise, but it didn't take much to see that these injuries were fatal. The realization hit him like a weight, heavy and sorrowful. Tyranitar's breathing grew weaker, each breath more labored than the last.
Slowly, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it gently on Tyranitar's massive neck. "Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, cooing in a soothing tone. "I'm here with you. You're not alone."
Pikachu moved closer, pressing a small paw against Tyranitar's side, mirroring Ash's sentiment. "Pika…pika-chu," he said softly, as if to reassure the creature that they truly meant no harm, that it was safe to let go.
Tyranitar's wild, pained eyes softened, its breathing becoming more shallow as it seemed to find some comfort in Ash's presence. The tension in its massive body began to ebb, its muscles relaxing as the life slowly started to leave it.
"I'm sorry," Ash whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "I couldn't protect you… I couldn't stop any of this."
He gently rubbed Tyranitar's neck, his fingers tracing the rough texture of its scales. He kept his voice low and steady, murmuring to it softly, wishing he could do more, but knowing this was all he could offer. The mighty Pokémon, once so fierce and revered, lay still beneath his hand, finding peace in its final moments.
As Tyranitar's eyes slowly closed, Ash leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the creature's, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."
The last breath left Tyranitar's body, and a deep silence fell over the dunes. Ash stayed there, forehead against its cool scales, eyes closed in a silent, heartfelt apology for all the suffering it had endured.
Ash stayed beside the fallen Tyranitar, his hand still resting gently on its rough scales. The silence around him felt heavy, like the weight of the desert itself pressing down. But then, from the top of the dune, a voice broke through.
"Ash!"
Ash looked up, squinting against the morning light to see the figure of a man standing atop the dune. Lieutenant Jiro Makoto, clad in his Tsika Army fatigues, peered down at him. Jiro was a broad-shouldered man with close-cropped dark hair and a strong, weathered face marked by a perpetual five o'clock shadow. His intense brown eyes, often shadowed under the brim of his cap, had an unexpected softness to them now, though his posture was as firm as ever.
Ash rose slowly, his body tense, readying himself. Pikachu leapt to his shoulder, cheeks sparking fiercely as they prepared for a possible fight. "Pika… Pikachu!" Pikachu's eyes narrowed, casting wary glances at Jiro.
Jiro held up his hands, palms open and facing forward in a gesture of peace. "Whoa, easy there, Ash. I'm not here to fight. I'm… relieved to find you alive."
Ash's gaze was sharp, his eyes unwavering as he tried to gauge Jiro's intentions. "So, what are you doing here, Lieutenant?" His voice was cold, the distrust evident. "Last time I saw you, you were taking orders from Zephyr."
Jiro hesitated, lowering his hands slowly as he took a cautious step down the dune. His usual confidence was replaced with something more subdued, a hint of guilt behind his steady expression. "Look, I know how it looks. But… I can't keep doing what we're doing in the Tsika Army. Not after seeing all of this."
Ash narrowed his eyes, his stance still guarded. "And what exactly is it that you're doing? Because last I checked, your army was trying to wipe out entire aldeas. That's what this was for, wasn't it?" Ash motioned toward the lifeless Tyranitar at his feet, his voice thick with accusation. "Another one of Zephyr's targets?"
Jiro's face fell, and he looked down, unable to meet Ash's intense gaze. "I… I wasn't here, Ash. I didn't know this was part of the plan. I knew Zephyr was focused on destroying Tyranitars, but I thought… I thought it was different. Controlled." His voice grew quieter, as if he was finally admitting a hard truth. "I didn't think it meant this."
Ash took a step forward, his expression hard, his voice edged with bitterness. "So you just followed orders, then? Just went along with whatever he said without questioning it?"
Jiro took a deep breath, meeting Ash's gaze. "I know it sounds bad, Ash. I wanted to believe we were protecting people, that we were bringing order to this land. But I was wrong." He looked down at the Tyranitar's still form, his eyes betraying a hint of remorse. "And I'm not proud of it."
Ash's shoulders tensed, not fully convinced. But he felt a slight shift, a sliver of understanding. "So, what now? You're just going to walk away from all of it?"
Jiro nodded slowly, his face resolute. "Yes. I want to help, Ash. I want to make things right, if I can."
Ash looked at him, still wary, but something in Jiro's eyes held a sincerity that was hard to ignore. He pulled out his Rotom phone and held it up. "Fine. If you're serious about helping, then I need you on the inside. If you get intel on attacks or spots where we can ambush the Tsika Army, you share it with us. But I swear, if you participate in another massacre, if you lay a hand on another aldea…"
Jiro nodded, his face somber, accepting the weight of Ash's condition. "I understand. I don't want any more blood on my hands."
The tension lingered in the air, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Ash gave a final nod, a tentative signal of trust.
As Jiro turned to leave, Ash called out, "Wait." He looked at the lieutenant, eyes narrowed, a question brewing in his mind. "How did Zephyr find that… that thing he was riding?"
Jiro paused, shifting uncomfortably before responding. "He didn't 'find' it, exactly." His gaze turned distant, as if he were back in another time and place, recalling a memory he wished he could erase. "When I met Zephyr, he told me he'd been to Paldea. Said he broke into some teenager's house—some kid named Arven. Apparently, he took a notebook from there that held all kinds of research, things about past and future Pokémon. I didn't ask too many questions at the time, but I knew he had plans. Big ones."
Ash clenched his fists. The idea of breaking into someone's home, stealing personal work—these weren't the acts of a man merely hunting Pokémon. This was something else.
Jiro continued, eyes still unfocused. "We crossed paths officially a few years ago, in Vermillion City. He showed me this shard, a crystal—what he called a 'stellar tera shard.' He claimed he found it here, in Saharos. Said if we followed the specs from the notebook, we could actually build a portal. A… time portal."
Ash's eyes widened. The idea was unsettling, and yet it explained the strange, unnatural presence of Iron Thorns. A future Pokémon brought to the present—weaponized.
"We put out feelers," Jiro went on, "sent word to anyone with a specialty in Pyroar, machine engineering, anything that could help build Zephyr's army. People came from all over, all lured by his promises." His voice grew quieter. "At first, when we encountered Solarans, we told them we were researchers—explorers interested in learning about Tyranitars. It seemed harmless enough."
Ash's jaw tightened, feeling anger rise within him.
"But… that changed quickly. Once we established trust, or when they resisted…" Jiro's voice became hollow, tinged with a deep regret. "We'd wipe out the aldea, one after another, leaving nothing behind except ruins. Zephyr made it clear—no survivors. The goal was simple: eradicate, but preserve what was valuable. It was all to 'cleanse' the land, in his words, a way to start Saharos over, reborn, purified."
Ash's throat tightened, his mind filled with images of the ruined aldea he found when Soraya and her brothers told him to leave.
Jiro, sensing Ash's horror, added quietly, "Zephyr believes this… death and destruction… will bring new life. But I can't… I can't see it that way anymore."
Jiro hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Zephyr believes he's part of some prophecy, some 'moeng legend' he heard from the Solarans themselves. He thinks the destruction he's causing is fulfilling it, that by eradicating the old Saharos, he'll somehow usher in a new era, a rebirth of this land." Jiro shook his head, looking more defeated than ever. "To him, every ruin, every life lost, is justified. He's convinced he's following destiny."
Ash's stomach twisted as he listened, feeling the weight of every word. This wasn't just some madman on a power trip—Zephyr truly believed he was fulfilling a sacred purpose. It gave Ash chills, hearing how distorted this so-called rebirth was in Zephyr's mind.
Ash steeled himself, looking Jiro directly in the eyes. "How can I know this is genuine?" he demanded. "What if this is just some trick to get me to lead Zephyr to more Solarans?"
Jiro looked back at him steadily, his expression calm. "You don't know," he said plainly. "I can't make you believe me. All I can do is tell you the truth and hope you use it to stop him." He turned away, his voice barely audible over the desert wind. "I'm just glad you didn't die. Zephyr was convinced he'd left you in the rubble."
With that, Jiro walked off, vanishing over the dunes.
Ash stood in silence, processing everything he'd just heard. The "moeng legend" flashed through his mind—the prophecy, spoken in solemn tones during the ceremony at the Circle of the Ancients. *Lightning tames the sand… stranger and tyrant entwined… shaping desert's hand.* The words echoed in his thoughts, and a creeping feeling took hold. Could it be that Zephyr thought he was the stranger? Or was Ash meant to play a part in this twisted version of destiny Zephyr was carving out?
He looked down at Pikachu, who gazed up at him with a mixture of worry and resolve. This wasn't the first time they'd been tasked with something monumental, but it felt different here. Like the weight of Saharos itself bore down on them.
Ash clenched his fists, feeling the enormity of it all settle on his shoulders. Ash looked out over the desert, his gaze lingering on the faint trail he remembered leading to the Circle of the Ancients. Part of him knew that heading there would bring him back to the Solarans, back to Misty, Brock, and the safety of their numbers. But his eyes drifted away from that path, sweeping over the expanse of rolling sand dunes stretching far into the horizon. In that vast emptiness, he felt the weight of what he'd just learned, and an undeniable urge settled in his chest.
He looked down at Pikachu, whose steady amber eyes met his with unshakeable loyalty.
"Do you trust me, Pikachu?" Ash asked quietly.
Pikachu gave a resolute nod, its little voice sounding out with conviction. "Pika-pi."
Ash smiled, though his expression held a tinge of worry. "Well… you're not going to like what we're about to do."
Pikachu tilted its head, confused but unwavering. Ash knelt down, brushing a hand across the desert sand, his fingers sifting through the grains as he thought. Ash looked out over the dunes, his gaze shifting from the distant trail to the Circle of the Ancients back to the endless stretch of sand around him. He could feel the weight of his decision, but he knew what had to be done. Looking down at Pikachu, he took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"We need to find that Shiny Tyranitar, Pikachu," he said, his voice low and determined. "The one that started all of this for Zephyr… if we can find it, maybe we can put an end to his obsession. And if we do it quickly enough, we can stop the Tsika Army from finding out where the Solarans went."
Pikachu's ears twitched, its expression serious as it took in Ash's plan. The little Pokémon gave a firm nod, signaling its unwavering support.
Ash smiled, reaching out to scratch behind Pikachu's ear. "I know it's a long shot… and it's dangerous. But we don't have much choice if we want to protect them."
He turned away from the familiar path leading back to the Circle of the Ancients, taking his first step into the unknown desert. The dunes rose and fell around them, shifting with the wind, almost as if the sands themselves were alive, hiding secrets in every shadow and ridge. Each step was heavier than the last, but with Pikachu by his side, Ash felt his resolve grow stronger.
In his mind, images of Zephyr atop the strange Iron Thorns flashed before him, a reminder of the power and danger that lay ahead. But the thought of finding that Shiny Tyranitar—the catalyst that had set everything in motion—gave him hope. If they could find it, maybe they'd uncover the truth about Zephyr's crusade and stop this devastation before it spread even further.
With the sun climbing higher, casting sharp shadows across the sand, Ash and Pikachu ventured deeper into the Saharos dunes, their footprints quickly swallowed by the shifting sands. He knew the path wouldn't be easy, and every instinct told him to be cautious. But he also knew that if there was even a chance to protect the Solarans, to save the aldeas and his friends, he had to take it.
"Let's go, buddy," he murmured, glancing down at Pikachu with a look of determination. They continued forward, driven by a quiet, fierce hope that somehow, they'd find the Tyranitar—and with it, a way to bring peace back to this unforgiving land.
Soraya moved quietly through the bustling crowd at the Circle of the Ancients, her gaze intent on helping those who needed it—whether offering water, assisting injured elders, or comforting frightened children. The ancient statues and rock formations seemed to shelter them, but the weight of the recent attack lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. She barely had time to catch her breath when she noticed her brothers setting down their packs nearby, their expressions as stormy as the sky after a desert thunderstorm.
Before she could even speak, Rashid's voice cut through the low murmur of voices around them, sharp and full of accusation. "This is on you, Soraya," he spat, his eyes narrowing with a bitterness she knew all too well. "You brought this on us—all of it."
Soraya's face flushed, her hands balling into fists at her sides. She knew this argument had been brewing since the attack, but she wasn't about to let Rashid cast the blame without a fight. "I didn't bring Zephyr here to destroy us, Rashid," she replied, her voice low but fierce. "I saved him—he was on the verge of death. I had no way of knowing what he would become."
Rashid shook his head, his face twisted in anger. "You think that excuses you? That because you didn't know, it somehow justifies the destruction of our aldea? You should have seen him for what he was, even then. That...moeng, that stranger you brought to us, he nearly killed us all."
Before Soraya could answer, Samir stepped forward, his face set in a scowl as he looked at Rashid. "That's enough, Rashid. You talk as if you could've predicted what would happen. None of us could. And it's because of Soraya that we even understand the threat we're facing now."
Rashid sneered, his anger shifting from Soraya to his brothers. "You're fools, both of you," he said, his tone bitter. "You stand here defending a woman who nearly doomed us once, and now you want to trust her judgment again. What if she's wrong about Ash? What if this is all history repeating itself?"
Tariq stepped up beside Samir, crossing his arms. "We're all still here, aren't we, Rashid? Because of Soraya. Because she brought Ash back, and he's been fighting alongside us. He's not Zephyr."
Rashid scoffed, crossing his arms. "And you think that makes a difference? That because Ash is helping us, he's somehow immune to becoming just like Zephyr? I don't believe that for a second."
The tension between them was palpable, each word from Rashid laced with accusation, each response from Samir and Tariq underscoring their trust in Soraya. Soraya clenched her fists, struggling to keep her voice steady. "You don't know what you're talking about, Rashid. I did what I thought was right then, and I'm doing what I believe is right now. You have no idea what it was like—seeing Zephyr barely clinging to life, thinking I could save someone, and watching it all unravel."
Rashid's gaze didn't soften, his face as hard as the desert stone. "Then maybe it's time you stop trying to save everyone, Soraya. You think every moeng is worth risking our people? You brought one back, and he almost destroyed us. You brought another, and here we are again, running for our lives."
Soraya's anger flared, her voice taking on an edge. "I didn't force anyone to help Ash. He's proven himself more than once, and he's nothing like Zephyr."
Rashid's lips thinned, his face set with the same bitterness that had haunted their family since that first fateful encounter with Zephyr. "You think you know that now, but one day, you may find out just how wrong you are."
Samir stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. "Rashid, enough. We're all in this together, and if you can't see that, then you're only going to make it harder for us all."
Rashid glared at Samir but didn't argue further, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Soraya turned away, forcing herself to let go of the anger that burned in her chest. There was too much at stake, too many lives hanging in the balance. She couldn't afford to let Rashid's accusations distract her, even as his words lingered, echoing in her mind like a bitter wind across the dunes.
As the crowd moved and settled into makeshift spots around the Circle of the Ancients, Misty and Soraya's eyes met across the bustling aldea. Soraya noticed Misty's look, one of understanding, her face soft with sympathy. Misty had clearly overheard Rashid's outburst. Rather than turning away, she offered Soraya a small nod of acknowledgment, a gesture that carried unspoken words—she understood.
Without thinking, Soraya slipped through the clusters of Solarans until she reached Misty. "Rashid…" she began, struggling to find the right words. "He isn't… Rashid isn't thinking straight right now. He's… scared."
Misty paused, then gave a gentle shrug. "Hey, if I were him and my home—" she corrected herself, "or, hjem as you call it—had just been torn apart like that… I'd probably feel the same."
Soraya let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Misty's words felt like a small balm against the harsh judgment Rashid had just laid bare. But then, Misty's face took on a more serious look. Her blue eyes locked onto Soraya's, unwavering. "Just tell me Rashid doesn't plan on… well, killing me or Brock," she said, half-joking but her tone edged with genuine concern.
Soraya managed a laugh, a quick, light sound that was half relief and half reassurance. "No, no. Rashid isn't that far gone. But… maybe just steer clear of him if you're ever alone," she added with a small, teasing grin, hoping to ease Misty's nerves. "For safety's sake."
They shared a faint smile, but the weight of their situation lingered between them. Misty turned, ready to walk toward Kaida, when Soraya reached out, her voice softer, filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Misty," she said, her tone sincere. "For trying to stop that monster Zephyr was riding."
Misty looked back, a fire flashing in her eyes. "Don't thank me yet, Soraya. Not until we actually stop it."
Soraya watched her walk off, her heart heavy but also steadied by the quiet determination in Misty's voice. As Misty continued toward Kaida, she paused at the edge of the circle, her gaze lifting toward the vast, empty desert beyond. A silent longing filled her eyes, her thoughts drifting far from the Circle of the Ancients.
She squinted into the golden light, half hoping, half wishing that somehow, a familiar figure would appear—just a glimpse of Ash striding toward them, Pikachu perched on his shoulder, both of them resilient and unstoppable. But the horizon lay quiet and empty, stretching on, leaving her with nothing but that distant hope and the hard reality of what lay ahead.