Andrew had found his way to an empty office in the castle. Judging by the view out of a window, he was on the fourth floor of the building. The office was desolate. The walls were made of plaster and coated in a layer of dull green paint which was slowly flaking off to reveal patches of white. Paint chips lined the floor.

In the corner was a desk made up of two connected tables, one positioned against the room's right side wall and the other parallel to the back wall. Two old, rickety chairs sat on either side of the desk. Andrew was sitting on the one closest to the window, gazing through it.

He sighed "It's not right, it's not fair. I wanted to keep a criminal in prison, so I get beat up for it? And somehow I'm the bad guy? He said I was the bad guy… he's a goddamned liar. So, why do I feel so bad?"

Andrew's thoughts would have to wait as the door slowly creaked open. Chloe stepped into the room, carrying a bright red bag sagging under the weight of its contents. Behind her was Charlie, who waited outside the room.

"I'll uh, leave you guys to it, I guess," the Raichu said plainly. "Get me if you need anything, Andrew."

The Marshtomp nodded before Charlie shut the door behind Chloe.

She strolled over to the lone chair across from Andrew. She placed her bag on the ground beside her, sat down, and rested her paws atop the desk. It groaned as she scooched it forward.

"I was in the middle of something, Andrew," the Flaaffy said sharply. She gave him a weary look.

Andrew put on a smile, "I do apologize about that Chloe." He spoke with a calm and confident voice. " I know that I missed our scheduled meeting earlier due to a few…"

He held out and gestured with his flippers, showing off his injured torso. "Complications."

"What happened to you?!" Chloe asked, her eyes widening.

Andrew lowered his flippers and leaned back in his seat. "Oh, you know, the usual. Ran into a friend of a former friend, he asked me to let his mom out of jail. I said no, so he attacked me, then I attacked him. It was quite a productive fight. But the guards hauled him off to Arceus knows where, so he won't be a problem. What were you doing?"

"Uh, I was just shopping," Chloe muttered before reaching into her bag and pulling out a dark blue scarf.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Anyways, we have some very, very, important matters to discuss. Charlie still doubts that I've been pulling this whole money thing. And we still haven't gotten his cash so I can prove it to him."

"Andrew?" questioned Chloe. "Can I ask you something?"

The Marshtomp raised his brow. "In theory."

"Do you think getting Charlie involved with this is a good idea? Isn't he your boss, or something like that? If I get caught doing this, I could go to jail! My mom would kill me if I ended up in prison! I don't think I can be a part of this."

Andrew groaned. "Don't be such a coward. Nobody's going to jail unless I say they are. What we're doing isn't a crime, it's just business. I've actually been thinking of a name to call what we've been doing, something like-"

"Embezzlement?" she asked flatly.

"That's not the word!" he yelled before his voice settled back down to a quieter volume. "I was thinking something more like… creative accounting."

"You mean embezzlement."

Andrew slammed his fist down on the table. Chloe instinctively leaned back as a loud BANGechoed through the empty office. Andrew immediately recoiled as pain consumed his flipper upon impact.

"Ow ow ow ow!" he cried childishly. "That… ugh!" The Marshtomp turned his attention back to Chloe. "Would you shut up about embezzlement? Nobody wants to hear it."

She crossed her arms. "Andrew, do you remember what you told me about this whole scheme— money laundering, embezzlement, whatever you're insisting I call it—being a game to you?"

"It does ring a bell," said Andrew, tapping his chin.

"I'm worried that is how you really see it," the Flaafy sighed. "I've tried to stop this, over and over again. And you just don't listen! You aren't listening right now I bet. I don't know what else I can say. I've told you that we're going in circles, Andrew, and now we're only continuing in circles just because I mentioned that. This is wrong. How else can I say it to make you understand?"

The Marshtomp studied her for a moment before nodding. "You're right, Chloe."

"I am?"

He snorted. "I know. Shocking, isn't it? But you ARE right. You keep telling me this nonsense about how using government funds for their allocated purpose is somehow wrong. That needs to stop."

Chloe had a surprised look, which quickly twisted into anger as she processed his words. "'Allocated funds?' Are you kidding me?! This is stealing! The intended purpose of this money wasn't to end up in some desolate cave."

"I'm the president. I say where the money goes."

She stood up, humphing. "Do you actually have no morals? None at all?! Do you not give a single care about the fact that you're stealing from hard-working Pokemon to do… whatever it is you do with that money?"

"Oh, like you care," Andrew scoffed, rolling his eyes.

The Flaaffy scowled. "I do."

"You care about not going to jail. At least that's what you were whining about five minutes ago."

Her expression twisted further, now exposing her teeth. "I care about other Pokemon, it's not a mutually exclusive thing. You think you're being clever, Andrew? Because you aren't. You're just trying to get under my fur and I'm not going to let you. I'm sick of how you've treated me after everything I've put up with for you. Is this how you treat everyone?!"

Andrew's eye twitched. I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill her!

He took a deep breath. "...You're pushing it."

"Give me a break."

Andrew grimaced and shook, his facade of calmness melting into a fiery aura of anger. "I said you're PUSHING it!"

Pain shot through his lower half as he stood up, but he did not show it. "I'm hurt, Chloe," the Marshtomp began to mutter. "I got messed up reeeeal bad. It's not supposed to be like this. This is bad. I can hurt you. I have a right to. I got hurt so you can too."

She took a step back as Andrew began to slowly lurch toward her. "W-What are you doing?"

"I was hurt, Chloe. Ryder bit me," he said, leaning his shoulder forward to show off the gaping wound, red and brown, it looked like it could start bleeding again at any moment. "Think it'll ever heal?"

She turned her back, walking at a quick pace toward the exit.

But before she could grasp the handle, Andrew yelled, "Stop!"

She froze.

"If you touch that handle, god help me if you touch that goddamned handle!" he shrieked even louder. "I'll have you arrested on the spot!"

A light crackling, similar to that of Charlie's electricity, began from around Chloe, the voltage centered on the horn-like appendages sticking out from her head. She huffed and faced Andrew without speaking another word.

Andrew, who finally managed to stumble over to Chloe, stood inches away. He sized her up, despite his eyeline being several inches below her's.

The Marshtomp grinned. "I'm injured. You can't hit back if I attack."

Chloe's hoof shot out and onto the handle. "I need to go r-right now!" She twisted it halfway before suddenly stopping and turning her gaze to her bag beside the table. "Crap!" she whispered.

Andrew smiled devilishly. "Go on, get it."

This is what she deserves for saying what she said I'm not crazy she's crazy she's trying to kill me I have to stop her it's pretty no it's not it's justified and I'm right I've always been right help me stop it.

The Marshtomp took a step back, giving her room to get past and even holding out his flipper to gesture her forward. Chloe shot him a glance, however, her focus returned to the red shopping bag as she began to walk toward it.

The Marshtomp's grin did not waver as he stuck out his leg. It didn't go far, but he had carefully positioned himself close enough that it obstructed the Flaaffy's path. She didn't notice.

Her leg collided with Andrew's and bucket forward, dragging her whole body down with it. With a hard thump, Chloe found herself on the cold, hard floor. Andrew looked down at her with a wicked and satisfied look on his face.

"Hey!" she cried out. "What was that for?!"

Andrew's head-fin vibrated and his flipper trembled. "For plotting against me!"

Marshmallow pulled back his leg. Then in one quick motion, he slammed it into her hip, only receiving a light jolt of pain and electricity while her body tensed and shifted as it processed the blow.

Chloe let out a shrill scream. Her chest heaved, her paws gripped the floor, the crackling noise grew even louder…

Andrew's smile stretched to its limit. It was a soulless, dead expression. It seemed he had no care in the world about the abuse he had inflicted on the defenseless Flaaffy.

She looked up at him in horror and shock, fixated on the expression as though in a trance.

"I don't take kindly to traitors!" Andrew announced proudly. "You, Charlie, Felicia, all of them! You've all been against me from the start. Right, Chloe? Right?! Admit it!"

Chloe shook her head, her eyes never breaking away from Andrew's. Suddenly the Flaaffy sprang up from the floor and made a beeline for the door. She grabbed the handle and threw it open, nearly ripping it off its hinges. Without another word, she disappeared.

Andrew's gaze turned to the spot where Chloe had laid, locks of pink and white wool the only evidence of her presence in the room. His smile dropped, replaced by a deep scowl as he grasped his chest. His heart began to beat rapidly. The pain that enveloped his body made itself known once again, pleading with him to sit down.

Andrew stumbled back over to the desk. He plopped himself down, heaving.

"They know now… they know that I know," he gasped, clutching his gills. A lone tear fell from his eye. "...What am I going to do now? They're going to kill me! I'm going to die!"

Thunk thunk thunk!

Andrew turned to the door, hearing the rapid footsteps of a sprinting Pokemon. He gasped upon seeing that he had left the door open.

Chloe burst back into the room, speeding straight at Andrew.

He threw his flippers up in defense. Please don't kill me! I didn't mean anything, Andrew thought but chose not to say aloud to the barrelling Flaaffy. I don't deserve this, I'm good. I'm great! I don't wanna die!

Between the gaps in his fingers, Andrew watched Chloe skid to a halt. Instead of attacking, she reached to the side and grabbed the red bag. She grunted and sprinted back out the door.

The sound of her running slowly grew quieter. After a moment, the room fell silent.

"That was… odd."

Andrew placed his flipper onto the desk, and his face into his flippers. He felt a knot form in his throat.

"What am I going to do? I know I'm still going to die, somehow. I'm too young. I don't want to die a Marshtomp, it isn't fair!."

A river of tears began to flow from the Marshtomp's eyes as he began to sob.

Louder and louder he cried. He couldn't breathe. Everything hurt. He felt terrible. Everything was terrible.

"It's not fair. Help me, Arceus!"

"Cellblock ninety-four B!" said a gruff voice. "This is your new home, kid. Get comfortable!"

The guard, an Onyx, laughed. He loosened his tail, releasing Ryder from his tight grip before tossing the Zorua into the dark cell. Its walls and floor were made out of a glossy, flat stone. There was a single window in the back providing a tiny bit of light for him to see.

Ryder hit the ground with a grunt. He narrowed his eyes at the guard, who simply guffawed again in response.

"I let you be in prison with your mommy, and now you're gettin' all pissed? Jeez, kid, beggars can't be choosers," the Onyx taunted. He grabbed the cell door, wrapping his tail between the hard iron bars, and slammed the door shut. The lock clicked, and the guard slithered away.

Ryder muttered to himself. "Piece of shit."

"...Language," a voice called out playfully, albeit weakly.

Ryder turned his head to see a tall and slender Zoroark laying in a bed of hay—his mother. She was gesturing for her son to join her.

Ryder wasted no time, dashing and leaping into her arms. He squeezed her to the best of his ability, and she pulled him into a tight embrace.

The two stayed like that for minutes. They exchanged no words, only emotional whimpers and euphoric smiles.

That was until his mother broke the silence, pulling herself away slightly to look him in the eye.

"Ryder, I'm happy to have some company…" she began, her tone turning solemn. "But why are you here? You have a life, friends! You shouldn't be here in this place. You're not a criminal, you don't belong here, Ryder."

Ryder brushed her off, peeling himself out of her arms and laying in the hay. "This place can't be that bad. I've been in some real crazy dungeons these past couple years, I think I can handle a little old prison."

"A little old prison?" his mother asked as she narrowed her brow. "You can leave a mystery dungeon, even if it's like a maze to navigate. There's no leaving here. How long were you sentenced for… and what for?"

Ryder smirked. "Oh, not too long."

"How long?" she pressed with a serious expression.

Her son let out a nervous laugh. "Maaaaaaaaaaaybe ten years."

"Ten years?!"

The Zorua bit his lip. "Well, three consecutive sentences of ten years."

"You were sentenced to thirty years?!" his mom yelled, sitting up as fury and panic grew in her eyes. Ryder could not tell if the anger was for him, those who put him in prison, or both. "Did you kill somebody?!"

Ryder pouted, turning away from his mom. "I tried. Would've gotten away with it if that little asshole hadn't been bailed out by the cops… or whoever those guys were."

"Little asshole? Did you try to kill the Marshtomp?!" the Zorark gasped as she clutched her chest, anger and desperation twisting her expression further.

The Zorua grinned sheepishly. "Maybe."

Suddenly, his mother grabbed his foreleg. She held Rudertight—not too much as to hurt him, but enough for him to know that she was serious. "Are you insane? I didn't raise a boy so stupid that he'd-"

"I'm not stupid!" he cut in, growling. "He put you in here! He stole my job! That stupid Marshtomp ruined my entire life. And he screwed everyone at the guild over. Someone had to fix things. I wish it didn't have to be someone like me, but some Pokemon has to off him sooner or later."

The Zoroark shook her head. "Y'know, there's something your grandfather used to tell me."

"What?" Ryder asked, shaking his head.

"If you take a shot at the king, you better not miss," his mother explained.

Ryder scoffed. "Andrew's not a king. He's a faker."

"I don't quite know what that Marshtomp is…" she began before releasing her son from her grasp and balling her paw into a fist. "This is his reward for nearly killing me? Becoming Grandeport's new king? Is that right?"

"He's a fake, Mom, I'm tellin' you."

The Zoroark stood up before walking over to the cell door and running her fingers along the bars. "A fake king's still a king, far as I'm concerned. He can hurt you, Ry-Ry, he already has by throwing you in here with me. I'm lucky they didn't have to chop my leg off after he stabbed me."

"I'm lucky he didn't put me in a coma after he smashed a bottle over my head," grumbled Ryder, shifting to get comfortable in the hay.

His mother turned around her mouth agape. "He did what now?!"

"Heh. Didn't I tell you?" he chuckled. "The little asshole smashed a bottle over my head at some restaurant and put me in the hospital for a week. I don't go around attempting to kill people for no reason."

The Zoroark covered her mouth. "I-I didn't realize."

"He deserves to die!" Ryder shouted before punching the floor with his paw. "I failed! But at least we get to be together, right?"

"Keep it down in there, you insignificant Wurmple!" the Onyx guard yelled from down the hall.

His mother began to hack. The coughs were deep and loud, lasting several moments before she was able to speak. "I'm going to kill that guard when I get the chance. Can't shank him, though."

Ryder laughed. "Too hard-headed for that?"

"You could say that," she concurred with a soft smile.

Without warning, the Zoroark's legs buckled and she fell to the ground. She managed to catch herself with her paws to relieve some of the impact, but she still let out a low groan after she fell.

"Mom!" Ryder yelled, jumping off the hay and running over to her.

"QUIET!" bellowed the guard. "Or do I need to come knock some sense into you?"

"N-No sir!" the Zoroark called back, her voice weak and strained.

Ryder tried as best he could to pull his mother up, however, there was ultimately little he could do with his smaller and quadrupedal body.

"Thank you, Ryder," she said as she pushed herself. She wobbled back over to the stack of hay and laid down, shutting her eyes. "I might just need a few minutes to rest, sweetie."

Ryder nodded before looking away, worry and frustration on his face.

As she rested, his mother's breathing became quieter. After a few moments, she began to snore lightly, having fallen asleep.

As he inspected her body, he began to notice just how frail it was. Her arms, once well-developed with healthy muscles, had become shadows of their former selves. They were shrunken and bony. Ryder was not sure she could even pull the prison door open, even if it was unlocked.

Beneath the Zoroark's eyes were thick, dark bags. Her once smooth fur was matted, dirty, and ruffled. Her mane was a mess, tangled and rough, lacking the softness Ryder had known it for. Its red hue also had dulled.

The Zorua let out a sad sigh, seeing what his mother had been reduced to.

"It's not fair," he whispered. "You don't deserve this, mom. I'm gonna get us out of here."

As Andrew hobbled back home, he reflected on how the last few hours—or however long it had been since his fight with Chloe, he had lost track—had gone.

"It's going to be fine, it's going to be fine, everything's gotta be fine. Everything always works out, right? Talking to yourself about this, reaffirmations, it's because it's gonna happen. You don't say these things if they won't happen. I'm gonna win, I've already won!"

As the castle disappeared from his sight, after he passed the forest separating the castle and the city, Andrew found himself strolling through Grandeport and passing through the main square. The space had come to occupy a nostalgic part of Andrew's mind. He began to calm down, the bright lights and colorful stands and storefronts of the square distracting him from his plight.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He was at peace…

But then he turned the corner.

On the cobblestone street before him were dueling factions of protesters. On the left side were hundreds of Pokemon adorned in dark green bowties, identical to the one the Marshtomp was wearing.

On the right side of the street stood another, similarly vast group. They had no obvious markings. However, from beneath the mess of shapes and bodies composing the crowd, towering wooden polls shot up fifteen feet in the air, with crude Andrew dolls attached to their tops. Some of them were on fire, their stitching blackened and disintegrating into ash.

Between the two amalgamations of Pokemon stood a dozen police officers. Their Dark green bandanas were identical to Andrew's and the protestors' in color, but none of the officers wore theirs' like a bowtie. They wore their bandanas on their arms, wings, and paws. In the case of a Kangaskhan officer, so did the baby in her pouch.

Geez, she must hate that kid, thought Andrew, who had stopped to admire the battle unfolding in front of him.

The police were yelling orders, but they were easily drowned out by the shouts of the protesters. The two groups inched closer to each other. The police became squished together, losing ground. A midnight Lycanroc protester wearing a green bowtie clawed at an Azumarill officer. A Rillaboom from the anti-Andrew side attempted to punch an Emolga officer, but they flew up and dodged effortlessly.

But despite the police managing to remain uninjured, the protesters continued toward each other. Then with one final push from the crowds, the officers became completely engulfed within the brawl, swallowed up like vessels in a tidal wave and disappearing from Andrew's sight.

"Goddamn," he muttered, stunned.

It was hard to make out exactly what happened next. Each group rushed into the other—attempting to maim anyone who got in their way in the process—including those on their side.

Balls of fire, jets of water, spurts of mud, leaves, rocks, and gaseous substances of purple and green—which Andrew had no desire to learn the nature of—were flung from either side. The Marshtomp could see them land, and occasionally there would be a space cleared of Pokemon when an attack hit, but only for a moment as they filled back in just as fast.

But even with the imminent danger posed, Andrew did not move, instead opting to talk to himself. "Is this a riot? I wish I had popcorn. Do Pokemon have popcorn… Do they even have corn?!"

In an odd turn of events, ordinary Pokemon began to pour into the streets, beginning to block out the unfolding brawl.

Cue tons of Pokemon running away in three, two, one.

However, this was not the case, as they strolled down the street, entered and exited shops, and stole the occasional glance at the carnage.

Soon more police officers arrived. This time, Andrew estimated there to be about fifty or sixty officers. They arranged themself into a square formation, with larger Pokemon forming the front and smaller Pokemon occupying the center.

A Venusaur officer in the center—who appeared to be the leader based on the golden bandanna tied around his tree-like protrusion—motioned with his foreleg before the formation of Pokemon charged right into the fray, disappearing into the amalgamation.

The members of the crowd no longer seemed to resemble Pokemon. The crowd has melded together into an eldritch beast, writhing and screaming as it struck itself over and over again. Occasionally a Pokemon would be knocked out of the beast, either falling to the street unconscious or running back in to assimilate with the creature.

But much to Andrew's chagrin, the entertainment factor of the fight waned with the sun. It had long since disappeared. Without him realizing it, the city had been cloaked in a blanket of darkness and the air had grown cold.

Andrew groaned. "Guess I'm going to have to find another way home."

He backtracked, finding his way onto a familiar street, one filled with bakeries and the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries. The Marshtomp sauntered down the road until it intersected with the one where the protest was occurring, though luckily the fray was several hundred feet away.

The dense environment of Grandeport began to spread out. Crowded row houses and connected hops began to widen. Eventually, the shops disappeared and the buildings grew shorter. He entered his neighborhood, seeing the large houses spread apart, eerily reminiscent of the neighborhood he lived in back when he was human.

Andrew navigated through the streets until approaching his two-story white house. Carefully, he climbed up the front stairs, slowly enough so as to not trigger any pain. He raised his flipper to the door.

Knock knock.

After the brief shuffling of footsteps, the door swung open, Thomas greeting the Marshtomp with a smile.

"Andrew, you're home!" he cried happily, leaning forward and wrapping his vines around Andrew.

A warm sensation overcame the Marshtomp, who reciprocated the hug the best he could with his constricted flippers. It hurt a little, but he didn't mind.

Thomas released Andrew and they both went inside—the Marshtomp immediately smelling the warm scent of freshly cooked… pasta.

Pasta, goddamnit.

Andrew had no idea how he had been able to stomach the dish for so long. Five days a week, every week, every month since he and Thomas had begun living together.

God, I'd kill for a damn salad right about now. And not one of those stupid fruit plates here in Grandeport, like, a real salad, with lettuce. Wait, would eating a salad offend Thomas? That's not like eating a Servine, right? Am I dating a plant?

"Uh, Andrew? Are you alright? The doctors said you might have gotten a concussion…" remarked Thomas, prodding at Andrew's chest.

He waved a flipper. "I'm fine, Thomas! Sure, I got a bit scratched up and needed a quick check-up, but who doesn't from time to time?"

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"Ugh, why does everybody keep asking that?" Andrew sighed. Finally, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Thomas grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, Andrew. You know I worry." The Servine walked past him, strutting down the hall and raising his arms proudly announcing. "I made dinner!"

"Pasta, yay," Andrew muttered to himself. Luckily, it didn't seem that Thomas heard.

The Marshtomp sat down at the table and choked down his dinner. It was of good quality, as always.

One of these days this stupid pasta isn't going to slide down my goddamn throat.

Thomas looked at Andrew with his signature kind, sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry that you got hurt. Again. I feel like it's been happening more often…"

"You don't need to apologize," said Andrew before getting up and bringing his empty bowl and silverware to the sink. "Things have been getting a bit more tense lately, though."

Thomas walked over to him, placing a vine under the Marshtomp's chin. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he reassured, placing a flipper on his partner's shoulder.

Thomas leaned his head to the side and kissed Andrew's cheek. The Marshtompwas incapable of blushing, but Andrew knew that he would have if he were still human. He kissed Thomas back before letting out a content sigh.

"Good," said the Servine. "You don't want me to get angry. I'd destroy this city from the inside out if it ever destroyed you."

The soft sheets of his bed provided Andrew with a relief he had not felt all day. As he swaddled himself in their soft fabric and laid his head on his pillow, all his pain dulled to the point where if he squeezed his eyes shut, he could almost pretend it wasn't there. Unfortunately, squeezing his eyes caused pain, too.

Exhaustion weighed upon him, replacing the weight of his body on his aching legs.

No longer was there Andrew… Or Thomas, or Ryder, or any Pokemon at all. There weren't even any sort of beings in existence, all there was sleep. With a long exhale, Andrew was whisked away to dreamland.

I found myself in a familiar place. The black had become comforting to Andrew. There was nobody there to judge him, to hurt him, or to punish him. There was just nothing. Peace. But peace was boring.

It is boring.

White cracks formed in the neverending abyss, growing larger. The void fractured jarringly into bits and pieces—like pieces of silverware dropping onto the floor—until it gave way to a magnificent void of pure white, and the mighty form of the one, true god of all Pokemon: Arceus. That's a good description, I think.

"I commend you on it, child," the voice boomed back in response. "I welcome you again. I believe it has been some time since we last met. More than I desire."

Andrew smiled. "I'm here now, Arceus. Not sure if you noticed, but I asked for your help a few times… and I think I got it. Right? I really hope that was you."

"My child, when you requested aid, I delivered. And should it be the case you are endangered again, I will protect you once more," the god told Andrew, looking down upon him warmly.

I gave him a thumbs up. "That's cool."

"But such protection, Andrew, does come without consequence. For this universe we inhabit works in mysterious ways, ones in which even I do not fully understand. In exchange for my favor, my will must be carried out. There is no other way. Can you do this, Andrew?"

The Marshtomp—the human—the creature, nodded. "Yeah, it shouldn't be much of a problem. I don't want to die."

"Very well, then. I issue you only one principle," Arceus, God, told me.

I studied him. I think he was smiling. I know that maybe it's pointless to try to discern the features of a god that you can't entirely see, and that don't truly exist. But some part of me knew he was smiling.

"You must cleanse the evil, wretched, Pokemon from the earth. All of those you interact with, Chloe, Felicia, Charles, Lawrence, Everett, Ryder, Jason, must be taken off this mortal plane for the sanctity of our reality. Can you do this, Andrew?"

"All the Pokemon I interact with?" the human questioned. "I don't have to do anything to Thomas, right?"

"I have taken a liking to your… partner. I find it challenging to believe that you've found one, Marshtomp. But it has happened. Rest assured, there is no need to bring any harm to him," said Arceus.

"Phew." I felt relieved. For a second there, I almost doubted Arceus.

"But for the rest of them, Andrew, allow my power to guide your hands. Let me guide you in bringing down the wretched Pokemon which walk high above, down to this earth. They shall feel my wrath. Every last one of them. Go forth, my child…"

…Is what Arceus commanded.

AN: Things certainly do seem to be getting… interesting, in Grandeport. I sure do hope nothing horrible happens!

Regardless, thank you for reading, as always. Not much I have to say this time around, so I'll leave it at that,

Thank you to DaGamestar, DoomHuntley, Sonic Ramon, and Zee102!

Comments, feedback, and general chaos are always appreciated. Until next time!