Amos seemed to lose his sense of time the longer he and Phoebe flew through the air, perhaps a blessing from his mind to minimize the agony he was afflicting upon his body. Whenever he felt his speed gradually depleting, he tensed up after firing another bullet through himself to both keep his speed up and undo the damage. The body may have been rapidly keeping up, but the mind remembered the pain. It was perhaps the worst pain to carry. Scars heal, but the mind always remembers.

His body demanded rest from the constant abuse he was putting himself through, but a single drive kept him on the path ahead. The chilling air slicing against his skin and exhaustion plaguing him couldn't stop his drive to reach that mountain. He had to reach Mt. Algus by any means necessary.

He can't imagine a good future without Evelot being there to pioneer it.

Someone needed to remind her the good she believed in was still obtainable.

BANG!

Amos winced as he picked up more speed courtesy of Phoebe creating another wind tunnel with her rifle. The frigid air slammed ahead him with greater intensity, his tattered poncho barely doing anything to keep him warm. The frost coated his skin in a fine layer, stiffening his muscles. If he wasn't more focused on maintaining his flight through the sandstorm he was whipping up, he would've lost altitude a long time ago.

"Don't pass out on me yet, Lamecaster!" Phoebe yelled. "Mt. Algus is dead ahead!"

Amos panted heavily. "Shut…up. I know."

Phoebe growled. "We still don't have a plan for facing Harriet. If Evelot hasn't already ran into her—"

"That's not going to happen," Amos insisted, fighting through his fatigue. Even with his goggles misting over from the frigid air, he focused purely on the vague shape of Mt. Algus ahead. "The plan is to get to Evelot and get her away from the mountain before that comes to pass. We're not fighting Harriet. We don't stand a chance of getting out alive, so we can only bet on saving Evelot."

Phoebe growled. "With our shitty luck, is it really going to be that easy? We've been on death's door for too long without time to rest."

"We've pulled through before. This time, we're going to leave here with a victory. We're Outlanders, right? We've survived worse."

"…" Phoebe narrowed her eye. "But how do we reach her?"

"…" Amos closed his eyes, an action he almost regretted as he nearly drifted off to sleep from the brief dip into darkness. Shaking himself back to reality, he stumbled over his thoughts for a response, but lost his train of thought as something diverted their attention ahead.

It was hard to make out between the frost over his goggles and his own deteriorating mental state, but there appeared to be two shapes standing near the base of the mountain. At first, he hoped and feared to be Evelot, the latter reaction indicating they might've been too late.

To his relief, and eventual horror, Phoebe's eyesight proved superior.

"Wait, is that Tac down there?" Phoebe asked. She squinted, raising her arm to block the wind out of her eye. "Who is that in front of him? Is that Evelot? Or…?" She gasped. "Oh…Oh fuck!"

Amos grimaced. "Please tell me it's not Harriet."

"I'm…not sure the actual answer's going to be to your liking."

"…" He clenched his teeth. "Just. Our. Luck."

7th Rebirth Moon, 908 – Weeks ago…

"…What are your thoughts about my family, Caractacus?"

The Boltund turned away from the path ahead as Magni pulled their carriage through the empty roads of the Outlands in search of the unknown Abel Underhill. Without a destination to turn to and aimless wandering ahead, Evelot felt the need to break the silence, even if over an uncomfortable topic.

Caractacus wasn't sure how to entertain the Mimikyu's question. He wasn't particularly close with the Fauchers, only having interacted with them once. He barely knew Phoebe, so much so that the Aipom barely remembered him beyond their brief, yet irritable exchange of dialogue. He didn't know the Mimikyu's motive for asking such a question out of the blue, though he posited it was out of boredom.

Humoring her request, he leaned back in the coachman's chair and rolled his mechanical paw. "Decent. Remarkable talent in alchemy. Useful business partners at the time. Not sure what you want me to say. You should know all of this."

Evelot narrowed her eyes sadly. "Did you think they were good people?"

"Does that really matter? Who cares? What is good in the Outlands? I just see alchemists doing a job like any other, just a bit more…illegally."

"That's what I mean. Were my parents…bad people?"

"Again with that. Good? Bad? Who cares? Those words are meaningless out here. No one cares about doing the so-called right or wrong thing. Vice and desire take precedence. Why are you even asking?"

"…" Evelot sighed. "What I saw in Crimehallow was…traumatizing, I guess? Or maybe it put things into perspective. One of the Deadly Seven, Alibrand and Wigbrand, did business with my family some time ago. They used their research to enhance their abilities. Using it for their horrible pepper gardens. I've never thought much about what my parents did for a living, and I can't say I'm any better. I've done some shady stuff just to get by like them. I just…never saw the consequences of our work in person. And the secrets they wanted from my family…"

"Hmm."

"Have you ever regretted working with the Outlanders?"

Caractacus scoffed. "What does it matter who I offer my services to? Whatever keeps me from going hungry is the most logical course. I'd say your parents were doing what was necessary."

"But was it the right thing?"

"In their eyes, it was. That's all that matters."

Evelot closed her eyes. "Why…do bad things happen?"

"Because Pokémon will always be inherently selfish. That's a law of all life."

"That's not true!"

Caractacus gestured to the open snow-covered desert. "Do you think it's fair life doesn't flourish in a place like this? Why doesn't nature provide life to this particular part of Virdis? Or what about the northern parts of the world where food is harder to grow? Or the parts of the world that are frequently struck with earthquakes? Why do some areas seem like pristine paradises while others make the lifeforms residing within suffer? Because nothing in this world is equal, thus it is our desire to balance out that inequality through selfishness. Pokémon with exceptional talent can terraform the world into their image, yet we use these gifts to benefit ourselves."

"But we can just as easily help others with those gifts—"

"Is a selfless desire truly selfless, or is it a selfish desire to be a better person?"

Evelot winced. "I…"

"Your parents selfishly used their alchemy to selflessly keep their family safe. If they were truly selfless, do you think they've been selling off all those poisons and drugs? I've heard reports of how that stuff gets into the wrong hands before being mishandled."

"A selfless desire can be born from a kind wish, not from a corrupt hubris."

"A selfless desire. Heh. What an amusing contradiction."

"…" Evelot looked aside before shaking her head. "I want to make a difference in everyone's lives. I want there to be a future where kindness prevails."

"What a delightful fantasy."

"You may think it's a fantasy, but I'm not a cynic who bends to a cruel world. I want there to be a world where kindness is the norm. Is that really so hard to imagine?"

"…" Caractacus closed his eyes, refusing to speak another word on the conversation.

Minutes Earlier…

Caractacus couldn't deny what the Annihilape proposed. Being versed in the dark undertakings of the Outlands, saying the Fauchers were saints was laughable. They weren't the cruelest crime lords, but they weren't compassionate to anyone outside the business. Dealing with all sorts of alchemy just to get by in a lawless world, all to keep whatever secrets they had from being used.

Indeed, the Fauchers caused a great deal of harm during their reign. It was a matter of time before someone like Harriet finally tracked them down and exacted revenge. He didn't know how the infamous mercenary's involvement with the Fauchers began, but it showed they made powerful enemies from their careless business practices.

And yet…

"For all that talk, I still don't see what you get out of this."

Absalom glared. "I believe I've made my point clear."

"Have you? Because it seems to me you wish not to take responsibility for your own actions, instead blaming some higher force for your misgivings. Tch. You hear it all the time from overzealous believers claiming the voice of gods or whatever persuaded them to undertake their work as a vassal. Just some excuse to force their beliefs onto the world, mainly through death and despair. Granted, I suppose they don't have an actual alien entity's influence hiding away in their mind, so at least you have something akin to an excuse, if you can still call it that."

Absalom sighed. "My actions are beyond your understanding—"

"How poetically cliché."

"I serve to unravel the mysteries of these tapestries I've been blessed with seeing, all to serve the will of my master. The true king of Virdis." He bowed grandly. "I have no other desire. All that I do is to push his plans closer to the present, making way for the future he desires. That is my role. The reason I survived was to carry out his will."

"And you still pretend this is all to serve a higher purpose? You have no desire of your own?"

Absalom stood up and huffed. "I've seen the repercussions of a strong desire. I'm far older than you can imagine, MacGyver. My king is a man of strong conviction and desire. I know how dangerous such a dedication to one's ideals can become if left unchecked. It was that very same hubris that doomed Virdis to the Ten-Ways Invasion. Another idealistic soul with no direction. No upbringing. No goal. Just a selfish ideal."

"And what makes your king's unchecked hubris any better than the rest?"

"Because he also understands my curse."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he's seen Virdis for what it is. I've seen the threads of his fate. He understands Virdis' self-destruction because he's experienced it for as long as I have. And yet, despite all of that, his decision is still wholly to the betterment of Virdis. Whether or not his actions bring disaster, they were not made on a whim, but through cold, calculating patience. The only rightful conclusion is to create a new era where Virdis returns to that time of peace."

Caractacus scowled. "And what is your definition of returning to a time of peace? Not exactly an overnight process. All I'm hearing is something worse, like suppressing the region into peace whether they want it or not. You push people toward what you desire because you can't stand a world where individuality exists, can you? Or is it you fear those of strong passion? Is that why you're pushing Evelot toward this fight? Are you afraid of what she'll become if she realized her true potential without the trauma setting her off?"

"Strong ideals and stronger passion. They are far more dangerous than you can imagine. When too many idealistic individuals coexist in the same world, each with their own definition of a perfect future, it will ultimately lead to disaster. Evelot Faucher is another of these idealistic souls who could change Virdis' fate."

"Thus, you pushed her toward revenge to blind her from her potential."

"You may accuse me of whatever you believe, MacGyver. I serve only the will of my king. He already has an heir for this region in mind, and we don't need another idealist turning the world upside down. Just one who will keep the region on track. No more hardship. No more wars. And no more territories. All shall be ruled under a single entity of unshakeable idealism. The perfect heir for thousands of years."

Caractacus scoffed. "What a joke. Maybe if you had some sense in that corpse-riddled mind of yours, you'd know this world doesn't operate like that. For as much as I hate the Outlands, I prefer its lawlessness over a utopia where my freedom is suppressed in the name of peace."

Absalom sighed. "You will come to understand the truth in time."

"Spoken like a madman, and I'm fluent in the language." Caractacus stomped his paw down and growled. "Your supposed future for Evelot will never come to pass. Regardless of what you've said to her, she will change the future for the better!"

"Her fate is already sealed. You cannot save her."

"I don't believe in that crap."

"And what will you do to defy me? We may be at a stalemate, but you cannot overcome my power. Eventually, while I will remain inexhaustible, you will succumb to weakness in time. I am beyond mortal limitation."

"…" Caractacus' ears twitched. He glanced once over his shoulder, then returned to scowling at the Annihilape. "I still don't understand what your Heavenly Emotion does to make you so powerful, but I do know one undeniable fact."

"And what would that be?"

"You don't decide my future. The prophecies you've fabricated against us are merely our darkest impulses." Caractacus reached inside his coat. "And we have the power to decide how those fates are written."

"Hmph. I thought you didn't believe in fate."

"I don't, but then again…" He pulled out a metal disc. "At the end of the day, it might as well just be another scientific phenomenon. Just as real as the gravity that draws people together." He scowled. "Isn't that right?! Lancaster! Burkhard!"

Absalom's eyes darted toward the sky as a tunnel of wind broke across the snow mounds. Emerging from the wind, withered and scarred from battle, Amos and Phoebe sailed through the air with their guns trained on the undead ape.

"They're alive?" Absalom reared his fist back, aiming to snipe them out of the air. "Malicious Fog—"

He mistakenly took his eyes of Caractacus for a moment, giving the Boltund ample time to race through the snow and tackle him. He slapped the metal disc over the Annihilape's front and flipped over him as an electrical barrier expanded around Absalom.

"Inverted Negative Space!" He landed and took off running toward the mountain path. "You two! Kill him until he stops moving! I'm going after Evelot!"

Phoebe gasped, then snarled. "We just got here, and you're leaving the murder monkey to us?!"

"Glad you understand!" Caractacus shouted, disappearing up the winding path.

Phoebe stamped her foot down in frustration. "We just went through hell and back to get here, and he's dumping his fight onto us?! How fucking rude—"

"Phoebe, less complaining, more shooting!" Amos yelled after loading his pincer.

Absalom punched into the barrier, finding himself unable to break free no matter how many strikes he dealt to it. He turned his attention to the disc clamping into his fur and gripped it. He focused his energy into the disc, using the pressure to slowly shatter it.

"FIRE!" Right as he was about to break the device, Absalom recoiled as a hail of bullets peppered him.

Amos screamed like a madman, furiously switching between firing and reloading his pincer. Phoebe fired with just as much efficiency, rapidly reloading her rifle after every shot with pinpoint precision. Amos' bullets pierced through Absalom, tearing out chunks of fur and spraying heaps of blood while Phoebe's bullets drilled gnarly holes through his body, leaving enough space to peer through from a distance.

Their firing eventually dislodged the Inverted Negative Space's control disc, causing it to fall into the snow. Absalom's bullet-riddled body teetered back on the heels before falling backwards into the snow, his ectoplasmic blood mixing with the snow.

Amos, having seen the ape dead once before, didn't waste the moment celebrating. Catching his breath and still fighting against the exhaustion wracking his body, he waved to Phoebe and yelled, "Hurry!" The two bolted for the mountain path, hoping to put some distance between them and the corpse before catching up to Caractacus.

Unfortunately, despite their actions guaranteeing a death sentence, Absalom's body suddenly jolted to life right as they passed him. He grabbed them by the ankles, leapt onto his feet, and hoisted them in the air before tossing them away like sacks of potatoes.

"AAAAGH!" Amos and Phoebe bounced off the snow, slamming into the snow mounds ahead. Snow topped over their heads, burying them up to their necks.

Absalom rose, shaking off the bullets embedded in his skin as a ghostly mist hissed off his skin and sealed the wounds shut until he looked to be normal again. He dusted himself off and grumbled as he looked up the mountain. "Typical." He turned to chase the Boltund up the path.

BANG!

Absalom collapsed to the ground as a well-placed shot to his leg tore his ankle away. He landed on his hands and knees, glaring calmly over his shoulder just as Phoebe picked herself out of the snow.

She loaded another bullet and aimed at his back. "You fucking think after the stunt that asshole pulled that we're just going to let you get away without a fight?"

Amos pulled himself to his feet, staggering as the cold and exhaustion continued to fray his senses. He nearly doubled over, huffing and coughing so hard that it felt like his chest was compressing. Wheezing felt as if his ribcage was bruised. After fighting Babylas, surviving a brawl with Evelot, overcoming the terror that was Plouton, and the abuse he subjected himself to just to reach the mountain in time, it was a miracle he was still alive. The damage to himself should've hospitalized him by now.

It was the hatred burning in his vision that kept him going. He planted his feet firmly in the snow, wiped his mouth, and aimed his pincer gun. "We're not letting you go after Caractacus. Your fight is with us."

Absalom narrowed his eyes. He stood up, shaking his leg as a dark energy swirled up from the ground and wrapped around his injury. Upon the mist's parting, a new foot had regrown in the old one's place. He stamped it down, testing it out, before igniting his fists in a dark blue blaze.

Phoebe winced. "Oh, come on! He's unkillable and regenerates?!"

Amos extended his pincer blade, though took a hesitant step back with teeth clenched tightly. "This guy's the boss of the Deadly Seven. He's the strongest."

Phoebe growled. "We barely survived a fight with Babylas and Amadeus, and we just got out of a fight with that damned skunk. We didn't prepare for this guy!"

Absalom took a step forward, the pressure exuding from his aura blasting ahead like a stiff gust that nearly knocked the duo over. Each advancing step, the pressure emanating off the Annihilape grew in power, turning from periodic gusts into hurricane-like winds that blew a powdery mist of snow in their faces. All they could see of Absalom through the mist was his red eyes, his shadow, and the dark blue violently crackling off his fists.

"It seems a new tapestry is being woven before my eyes," Absalom stated. He glared. "Curious, though. I sense a thread that leads to your deaths, yet another diverges. Perhaps you will survive this battle, but the chances are slim. There is no use for you two in my master's future. More trash from the Outlands."

Phoebe reached for her wind cleaver. "Screw this! Maelstrom Cleave—"

"Wait, Phoebe, don't—" But Amos couldn't get the words out in time as the Aipom leapt into action.

"Tailwind!" Randomly assigning a move to her broken sword, she swung and fired a massive wind blade into Absalom, the sheer speed and volume of wind slicing into his midsection and spraying his blood across the earth. Using the wind to her advantage, she sailed toward the stunned monkey, clashing her heated dagger against the broken sword. "Burn!" The wind stoked the heat as sparks blew between the weapons. She swung, assailing Absalom in a torrent of flames.

Her eye widened as a scorched hand reached out from the flames and seized her by the face. The flames blew away from the force of Absalom's pressure. His skin and fur rapidly grew back as darkness continued swirling up from the ground and into him.

Absalom ignited his fist again and reared it back. "Silent Fury Lv.1."

Just before he could crush Phoebe's skull, Amos suddenly darted across the field and stabbed his stinger through Absalom's eye. The shock briefly stunned the ape, gifting Phoebe a window of escape. She slipped free from his grasp and kicked off his face to get some distance.

Amos attempted to unscrew his stinger and inject Absalom with the same vile concoction that killed Ulrich, but Absalom suddenly grabbed him by the throat and reared the scorpion's body over his head, prying the stinger loose.

"Not good enough."

With the eerie calm of the ape's voice, he slammed Amos into the ground with the force to split the earth open. The rumbling carried far out across the field, shaking Phoebe off her feet in a collapsing wave of overturned earth.

Amos had the wind knocked out of him, screaming in a breathless, bloodied gasp. He blacked out for about three seconds before being lifted by his neck again. His eye twitched from the pain, peering through the cracks in his goggles as Absalom's eye healed itself anew.

"It would be wrong of me to take pleasure in the death of another," Absalom stated. He pressed his thumb against the Gligar's windpipe, causing Amos to choke and sputter. "But for scum like you to have the audacity to face me with such brazen resolve? I've fought in wars. You fought in scraps meant for the schoolyard. That's what separates me from the rest of the Seven."

With little effort, Absalom tossed Amos across the cracked earth, sending him into a recovering Phoebe who barely caught her teammate. However, without giving them a moment to catch their breaths, Absalom kicked the ground and knocked up a wave of earth, blanketing the duo's vision in snow and rock.

Phoebe quickly armed herself with her rifle and loaded an alchemical bullet. "Drill Bullet!" Bracing herself, she fired the spiraling force bullet, blasting a hole through the wave of earth just as it collapsed down over them. She covered herself and Amos against the loose stones pelting them, ultimately spared from being crushed under its weight.

"Malicious Fog."

Phoebe's eye widened as Absalom punched the air, sending forth a fist of darkness that plowed through all in its way. Acting fast, she loaded her rifle again and aimed for the ground, firing a Burrowing Bullet to drop her and Amos underground instantly. The fog missed them by a hair, but the insane pressure it carried traveled after them through the tunnel, blasting them straight to the bottom.

"AAAAGH!" Phoebe cried, feeling rough stones digging into her back.

She felt that same trembling terror come over her again, sensing the slow approach of Absalom from above. His voice boomed down on them despite not being directly over the pit yet.

"The powerless aim to rise and usurp in the name of change. I will not comply to the follies and whims of children guided by dreams of unstructured passion. Drogo, that foolish fox, couldn't comprehend the power he wielded. He brought about this disaster to Virdis because he desired change. His actions brought ruin to the land of Virdis. He was no hero. He was undeserving of celebration. And he will forever be remembered as a monster, just like all the rest who follow in his name."

Phoebe loaded her rifle and aimed at the top of the pit. "Lamecaster, now would be a good time to do something," she pressed, kicking his side roughly as he continued to lay in a daze. "Lamecaster, come on!"

She sensed Absalom at the top of the pit and steadied her shaky aim. She had about three seconds to stun the ape and come up with an escape plan that didn't result in their untimely burial.

"The weak do not understand true power. Therefore, they must either comply…or embrace destruction. That is their fate!" Absalom lunged over the pit and fired down Malicious Fog, giving no time for Phoebe to fire.

"FUCK!" Phoebe attempted to fire before the fog crushed her and Amos to dust when her footing suddenly gave out. They plummeted deeper down the pit, escaping the clutches of the fog's power.

They continued falling until their backs crashed back against earth. However, upon landing on their backs, they suddenly fell forward and landed on their faces. Phoebe instantly recovered and discovered they both landed back on the surface, hidden underneath some rubble overturned by the Annihilape's earlier attack.

"Eh…?" Phoebe gasped.

Amos finally picked himself up, shaking himself out of his daze. "My head…"

Phoebe blinked, then slapped him angrily in the back of the head. "You idiot!"

"AGH! What the hell?!"

"Warn me when you're about to pull a stunt like that! I don't know what bullet you fired to get us out of there, but we were this close to being turned to paste!"

Amos winced. "W-What? The hell? I didn't fire any—"

"There you are." Their eyes widened as Absalom was already above them, fists blazing like two comets in the night.

Amos slammed his pincer down and created a Sandstorm. It barely slowed Absalom down, but the updraft scattered the rubble away and threw the duo backwards, narrowly avoiding the ape's devastating punch as it rent the earth to dust.

Amos growled. "If we take a single direct hit from this guy, we're as good as dead…"

Phoebe scowled. "And we can't even run away this time."

They landed with the sandstorm lightening their fall. They backed away slowly, their backs to the mountain. As tempting an idea it was to ditch the battle and race after Caractacus, how far would they actually get before they were found dead in a massive, fist-shaped crater?

But what was the alternative? How do you kill something that was not only hundreds of times stronger, but also unkillable? Something told them it wouldn't be as simple as finding a weak spot on the ape like they did with Plouton.

Absalom ignited his fists again and approached the duo with a calm stride. He snorted as the pressure kicked up around him, creating light tremors through the earth. Amos and Phoebe steadied themselves, gathering their senses and readying their weapons.

"You cannot challenge Fate. All that has been written and all that will be written. I've witnessed it all, and your fates will be woven into a tapestry of haunting beauty. Surrender. Resist. It matters not in the end. I've already seen this outcome."