Chapter 78 – Back to Basics
He couldn't find the words, so he just stumbled toward her. It felt like even longer than the walk through the plateaus, but he finally collapsed into her lap. The first sound she made—a weak, entertained laugh—nearly made him break down, sobbing. It had been too long since he'd heard anything that even resembled another voice.
"Mom," Owen blubbered. "I th-thought you—"
"Shh, shh…" Using her free hand, she rubbed the back of Owen's head. Her voice was so faint that Owen tried to quiet his sniffling to hear her. "Are you okay?"
"I—I am now," Owen said, rubbing his eyes. "Ugh, I dunno where this is! Mom, where'd you go? Where are we?"
"I don't know," Amia said softly, scratching behind Owen's head. He stretched and pressed against her, letting out a happy chirp. "Owen, are… you okay?"
"You asked me that already," Owen said, laughing. "I'm okay, kinda. Oh, um, and I know I used to be a Charizard."
Her eyes widened at that.
"I don't get it, either. But, Mom, you—" He looked at her wounds, finally remembering them. It wasn't just on her side. There were cuts and bruises all over her body, and some of them were still bleeding—especially the one by her side. "What happened?"
Amia shook her head. "Wraiths… I…"
That was all he needed to know. The way Amia's injuries looked, compared to the single wraith he had encountered before, it seemed like she had suffered a lot more than a single one. Yet, she fought them all off!
Still… "I—I'll go and look for some berries, or… There are berries, right? Somewhere?"
"No, no," Amia said gently, reaching down. "I'll be f…"
"What? You'll be what?"
"I don't need…"
"You do," Owen insisted. "Please, do you know where any are? I've been looking for food, and I'll find some for both of us!"
Amia hesitated, squeezing her eyes shut. "It's dangerous."
"Well, it's—" Owen felt the flame on his tail intensify. Dangerous? Everywhere was dangerous! Was she just trying to make sure he was okay because he was a little Charmander again? He was still in a better state than she was. "Just tell me."
Amia bit her lip.
The words fell from his mouth before he had the chance to think about it: "Tell me, because it's my turn to take care of you."
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, another dry, dusty wind blew across the cave, little purple clouds creeping their way inside.
"Forest," Amia said. "There were a few…"
"A forest? That black stuff, off that way?" He pointed toward the wall.
Amia nodded weakly. "Please, be careful."
"I will, but I need to get us food, and berries for you." Owen stepped away, holding his crystal like it was a badge. He scanned the cave for something similar, but found nothing. Puzzled, he said, "Did you run into any of these things?" He held the crystal up.
Amia didn't recognize it.
What drew him to her, then? Owen had his doubts it was something sentimental. It felt too tangible.
"Okay." That didn't matter. He still had to keep Amia safe, and if a wraith happened to wander in…
Owen stood up, taking a few paces away from Amia and toward the cave's exit. There, he stopped and stomped his foot on the ground. Then, another, and another, a little bit of his power draining each time. He panted, but pushed through until he had stomped across the cave from wall to wall. "If anything tries to sneak in, they'll hit one of my Fire Traps," he assured Amia. "I'll be fast!"
Amia looked like she was about to get up, but Owen saw her weakness.
"No, I'll be fine," Owen assured her. "You've… I don't want you to get hurt more. Okay?"
After a long, reluctant pause, she sank back down.
Sparing one last glance behind him, Owen marched to the forest with renewed vigor.
Trina had prepared them for this, should it ever happen. It was one of their many drills—if something ever happened to her, or if she was away and something dangerous had approached, all of her Bug subjects knew where to go, what to do, what to wait for, and for how long.
Even with her gone, that plan remained.
Har rushed through the silken labyrinth, the silk now completely dark without any Mystic luminosity.
"Har!"
He spun around, greeting Ani. The Meganium jerked her head back. "Everyone's kind of freaking out. Are you…"
"Yeah, I'm working on it," Har replied with a little grunt. "I almost got everyone coordinated to make sure they know what they're doing. How's the east sector?"
"They're the ones freaking out."
Har rubbed his forehead, growling. "Oh, come on. We went over the drills!"
"You're the only one studious enough to remember them off the top of your head, Owe—er, Har."
Har glared, but then felt his bag bumping against his side. He glanced at it, then at Ani.
"What's wrong?" Ani asked. "Hey, you aren't trying to Perceive me, are you?"
"No, I—I turned it off," Har said, looking down. Indeed, he wasn't reading them—it was rude, and they could tell by the glow of his flame when he was trying it.
"Good," Ani said. "Anyway, um… Sorry about that."
"Whatever, look—Is Lygo handling it? Where's Ax?"
"They are. I just wanted to tell you it's probably not gonna work until you go along, too."
"Ugh, fine, fine. Everyone here is doing okay, so can you just make sure nobody's wandering around while we're on lockdown?"
Ani nodded, but then eyed Har's bag. "So, what's with that? Looks kinda overstuffed."
Har clenched his jaws. "Nothing," he said uneasily. "Trina just left me something, that's all. And I'm starting to worry that it's the last thing she's gonna leave us."
"Don't say that," Ani said, flicking his forehead with a vine. "Honestly. She's way too strong to be taken down by some stupid whatever's going on."
"But since when did we ever just…" Har rubbed at one of his horns worriedly, the anxieties that he'd been shoving down in the back of his mind coming back rapidly. "Never mind, she's—she'll be fine. We'll see if she comes back in the morning and, well, if not, we'll… figure out our next steps."
"Right." Ani frowned again, looking at the bag. "So, seriously, what did she give you? Looks like a bunch of scarves."
"Y-yeah, it's nothing," Har said. The scarves were supposed to give back Ani, Lygo, and Ax's memories the moment they slipped it on. But it wasn't an appropriate time to do that, was it? In the end, he was supposed to keep Trina's subjects calm until she returned. Right now, returning all of their memories—what would that do to them? Was that necessary right now? Would he lose them? No—that part wasn't important. It wasn't fair to keep it from them, but if he just waited a little while longer—
A vine smacked him on the cheek.
"Gah!" Har rubbed his snout, waiting for another. When none came, he peeked out.
"You're zoning out again! What's wrong?"
"Did you really have to hit me?"
"I was jostling you! You didn't respond!"
"Oh." Har blushed beneath his scales. His flame shrank down shamefully. "Sorry. I'm just distracted. Can I tell you later? We need to focus on keeping the colony safe."
Ani sighed. "Fine, fine," she said. "But it looks like those are scarves for us, don't you think?"
Har tensed.
"Why'd she leave those? Our old equipment is just fine."
"Look, I need to take care of the east side, right?" Har said hastily.
Ani glared, not advancing, and Har felt frozen in place. It wasn't until several seconds later that Ani moved past him. "Fine, tell us later." She didn't look back.
Har's wings drooped and he nibbled at his tongue.
He wasn't afraid of losing them. Getting distracted simply wasn't good right now. Later. He'd tell them later.
"Go to room 4-C, the Bewear needs to have those bandages cleaned again. You, what's the patient in 5-A's status?"
"Stable. They'll be fine on their own for now."
"Good, then go to 8-E. Heal Pulse if you need to, and forget the berries, they're useless."
They headed out, and Incineroar grunted, looking frantically over a list written in scrawled handwriting. He left a small checkmark next to 5-A's, the paper lit only thanks to a nearby Volbeat standing on the table. The rest of the room was barely lit by the glows of the brighter Pokémon nearby, like a Rapidash's flames in the corner.
Several Pokémon shuffled in and out, testing the entryway to the hospital, either to bring more of the injured in, or to push out those who could be discharged—even if they hadn't been fully recuperated. They couldn't afford it compared to the most severely injured. Most of them had been from the training area; without a means to heal, intense sparring matches suddenly became lethal. And then there were injuries from nearby villages in the outskirts, outsourced to Kilo now that their basic berries were of no use, and their natural healers were rendered exhausted.
"Need me to adjust, Phol?" Volbeat asked, wiggling his rear.
"Yes. Don't do that again," the Incineroar replied. "I'm almost done. We're low on healers. They only have so much energy."
"Well, that voice in the sky said—"
"I do not care about that right now," Phol said flatly. "I don't care if the apocalypse itself is coming; I have patients to take care of, and if the world doesn't end, they're living to see the sunrise."
"Y-yes, sir."
A few more checks, and Phol was confident that he had finished it off for the patients in critical need of attention… except he knew that it was only going to tie them over until midnight. They needed more healers, but without any berries to replenish their energy, the healers would be outpaced by the injured.
"We need to send people out to gather volunteers," Phol finally concluded. "Gather any spare hands and have them scout out. Bang on doors. Disrupt their sleep. I don't care. We need healers, and I know more people will be coming in with fresh injuries once the night guard realizes their healing items don't work. This is a code red."
Volbeat stood there, along with a few others who had stopped to listen to Phol.
"Are you doing anything productive right now?" Phol said behind a growl.
"Well, er, we don't really know what—"
"Then get out there and find more healers!" He slammed his hands on the table. "This is not a time to hesitate! People will die if we don't act now!"
"Yes, Sir!"
Phol looked back at the list again, realizing that, with that complete, he had to find another use for himself. His eyes were heavy, but that didn't matter. He'd worked long shifts before, sunrise to the following sunrise, even. Perhaps this would be one of those shifts.
Wasn't there a Smeargle near this place? Yes, there was. Always up late with his art projects, depriving himself of sleep for the sake of his craft. But Smeargle could learn practically any move—and Heal Pulse, when it was possible, was incredibly popular to have on hand. Surely, he would know of it.
Not wanting to waste time, he looked back at the others. "Keep maintaining the critical patients. I'll be back. I think I know of someone who can help here."
He also thought about Spice, the Salazzle. She was a strange case; their berries didn't work at all on her on the field, and that left permanent scarring on her body when she had finally been brought to Kilo Village. A rare sight. He remembered her talking about her vials of special, concentrated berries—her potions, she called them—that could heal her much more effectively.
Was she home? She could be useful, too. In fact, anybody from the south might. Before annexation, they didn't have much in terms of blessed berries. Perhaps some of their old traditions still persisted.
One thing at a time.
Phol stepped out of the hospital and weaved to the side, allowing a Chimecho, two Gallade brothers, and a Clawitzer pass through, all of them channeling healing energy in their bell, blades, or claw.
That eased his mind enough to actually leave the hospital in the others' hands. Kilo's decentralized sense of leadership once the Hearts were out of the equation made it easy for Phol to take charge when he needed to. As much as the culture perplexed him—as he, too, had been raised by southern natives—it made it easy to step up and organize the others. Leaders and followers, no matter how it was officially outlined.
Most of the buildings were completely dark. A few luminescent Pokémon were a lot easier to spot, each one wandering around with aimlessness or at least a vague sense of purpose. Some utilized their techniques to light the way. He spotted a Blaziken maintaining the flames of a Blaze Kick to keep part of the street lit while they conversed with a few others. He was careful to stay on the dirt or stone roads rather than the grass.
Phol passed by the nearby grocery shop next, glad to see that most of the facilities there—aside from the lights—were still operational. A chilly frost emanated from the frozen aisles, and everything else seemed to be perfectly in order. But without Waypoints, Phol wasn't sure how they were going to resupply it once their current inventory ran out.
And how would they get supplies out to the rest of the world?
Not only that… but all of the outskirts and remote villages scattered around Kilo, once connected by the Waypoint system—they were stranded. Those with Teleport could only do so much on their own.
But he would have to deal with that later.
"Angelo?" Phol called, hoping he got the name right.
"Yuh-yes?"
A golden light circled around the Smeargle's tail, acting as some kind of illumination while he painted. Phol doubted it was efficient compared to working under proper light, but he wasn't surprised that he had some kind of utility for when the lights went out. Perhaps he had gone a time without a Luminous Orb before.
"Do you know Heal Pulse?" Phol asked.
"Er, I do, but—my projects, I—wait, what's wrong? Why do you need Heal Pulse?"
"The hospital needs anyone who can use the technique. You know how useful it is day-to-day. Come with me."
"But my—"
"I'm not giving you a choice, Smeargle. Lock up your things and come to the hospital. What other techniques do you know? Can your kind switch between more than four?"
"Well, I'd need time to recall my forgotten ones, but—"
"What else do you know?"
Angelo hesitated. "I, er… Nothing particularly useful."
Evasive. Bothersome. He didn't have time for this. "List them out in detail when you're not needed for healing. People are going to be pulling you left and right for your utility, understand? You aren't an artist anymore. Time to save lives."
"Bu-but I like my art, I—"
"Angelo, let's go." Phol reached out and grabbed the Smeargle by the arm, having barely enough courtesy to not smudge his current project, which seemed to be depicting a half-drawn Aerodactyl, and carried him over his shoulder and out of the building.
"But—but didn't you hear that voice? What does it even mean? And those explosions, and the sky, and—I just don't want to think about it," Angelo rambled. "This must all just be some sort of big trick, or a bad dream. A-and when I wake up, it'll all be over, like it never happened."
"How ambitious of you," Phol said with a low growl. "Are you even equipped with Heal Pulse now?"
"I—I'm switching to it now. Just give me some time to break it back in."
"And you aren't going to explain to me the list of techniques you have otherwise?"
"Th-that's private! You don't just ask a Smeargle about that; it's like reading my diary!"
"…You keep a diary?"
"…No."
They went past the grocery shop again, where a few nighttime dwellers stepped inside to see if everything was okay. The night-shift cashier, a Weavile, seemed nervous, sparing occasional glances outside and toward the starry sky.
Angelo, spotting this, also looked up while over Phol's shoulder. "What's going on with the world? It's all gone insane…"
Phol stopped when he spotted a little Squirtle on the ground, thinking he was another of the injured in the streets. But he got up and continued running, so Phol advanced again. "It's going to get a lot worse before we can find our footing again. We need to focus on lessening the impact right now, and we need your help for that, okay?"
Angelo whined, looking down. "I just can't escape it, can I?"
"Responsibility? No, that's life."
"No, just…" Angelo sighed. "Never mind. Are we almost to the hospital? My chest is starting to ache from all the carrying. Your shoulders are very hard."
"Comes with the species." Phol adjusted the Smeargle, but something in the sky caught his attention. He hoped it wasn't another strange light show. Between the pink explosion and the apocalyptic meteor shower, maybe the world really was coming to an end.
"Is that a Joltik?" Angelo said.
"…Joltik can't fly."
"That one has wings."
"They don't have wings, either."
The Joltik landed in the middle of the main square, right next to the hospital and the now-defunct central Waypoint. Just what were they going to do with that main spire, now? Affix a light to it to guide fliers in? Maybe.
Speaking of fliers.
"A flying Joltik. What do you know?" Phol set Angelo down and pointed toward the hospital, but the Smeargle was too curious. He approached her as well.
"I think I drew you, once," Angelo muttered. "Are you a rare subspecies of Joltik?"
"I'm the Fairy Guardian!"
"…R-right. Right. That's good to hear."
The tiny Joltik shook out her fuzz and folded her wings down. Even Phol couldn't remain stoic when a Lucario, Porygon-Z, and Torkoal came tumbling out of that fuzz, followed by a pink mist enveloping them. They grew to their normal size, and the Joltik skittered onto the Lucario—who was collapsed on the ground.
"Can you heal him? He's beat!"
Angelo pointed at Joltik. "H-how did—why did—"
"Heal him," Phol said firmly.
"R-right, right. Sorry."
Angelo grabbed his tail and made a motion in the air with it—a little circle. A pink orb formed. With another flick of his tail, like a tossing motion, the ball enveloped the Lucario, who seemed very familiar.
Passersby Pokémon murmured to one another.
"…Wait, isn't that Elite Heart Rhys?"
"I dunno about Elite Heart, but he's Rhys!"
Rhys groaned at his name being called, opening one eye. "What happened?"
The Torkoal—who might have been grown too large, since he was even bigger than the Lucario—poked his head out of his shell. "Are we at Kilo Village already? Oh, that felt like such a short nap…"
The Porygon-Z was motionless, though Phol recognized the appearance in his vacant and dim eyes. He was still asleep.
"Porygon-Z. Are you able to wake up?"
His head twitched. A feminine voice buzzed. "Initializing Hope O.S. Warning: Hope O.S. shut down abnormally during the last session. Boot in safe mode? Y/N."
"Y," Phol replied.
"Wait, what did you just tell it?" Angelo said.
"When a Porygon-Z is knocked out, they speak in a strange dialect that seems to be universal across their kind. Apparently, Safe Mode is the proper protocol when making sure they're okay, because it keeps the rest of their selves in a safe place while we talk to some… base part of them."
"I have no idea what that means."
"I don't either. I'm just repeating what one of my colleagues told me about himself. The legend is that their kind came from humans, and humans, when they existed, spoke like them."
"Creepy."
Phol rolled his eyes. Rhys, meanwhile, got to his feet, using the Torkoal as support. "Thank you, Elder. Are you alright?"
"Yes, just fine," Elder said. "Goodness, it's dark. Is it morning yet?"
There was the smallest hint of blue in the otherwise black, white-speckled sky. It really was going to be a sunrise-to-sunrise shift. Exhaling through his nose, he turned his attention back to Elder. "Are any of you critically injured?"
"No," Rhys replied. "Nobody with us. Are Waypoints truly destroyed?"
"Yes. Along with berries, orbs, seeds, and the vast majority of our medical supplies. It's as if we're in the south, pre-annexation."
"Pre-what?" Joltik said.
"Before Anam spread his blessings, or whatever they are, there," Phol clarified.
"Oh—Anam…" She looked away.
"Do you know where he is? We need him immediately." Phol eyed Rhys, who was also avoiding his gaze. "What happened to Anam?"
"Anam's… not able to be here at the moment," Rhys said. "We need to organize everybody in Kilo Village as soon as we can."
"But it's almost morning and I didn't get a blink of sleep," Angelo said. "I—I know, I know, I'm going to focus on healing people, but—think about it. Nobody is going to remember what anybody says until it's at least noon. It's too late, er, early, to do something like this, don't you think?"
"Hrmm…" Rhys and Phol exchanged a look. Then, the Lucario asked, "Willow, are you tired?"
"I'm Mystic! I don't need to sleep!"
"Safe Mode boot complete."
"Hope O.S., what was the cause of your shutdown?" Phol asked like it was a routine.
The feminine voice continued. "Checking logs. Cause of shutdown: Depletion of energy and disorientation due to a series of percussive blasts of Fairy, Normal, and Dragon energy at close proximity. Onslaught against unknown entity: 'Dark Matter.' General stress. Static electricity from a Joltik."
"Current status?" Phol said.
"Normal."
"Hrm. Alright. Restart normally." He must have been a fast healer to not need a Heal Pulse to patch things up. He'd ask for the hospital's digital duo, but they didn't have the current shift, and he wasn't sure where they lived.
"You do not have the necessary user permissions."
Phol did his best to keep calm. "I am a doctor at Kilo Hospital. I have your best interests in mind. Restart normally."
"You do not have the necessary user permissions."
"Guess she doesn't trust doctors," Angelo remarked, shrinking away when Phol flashed a glare at him.
Rhys sighed, looking like he was ready to fall asleep again. "Restart normally."
"Restarting."
Phol's left eye twitched, but felt no desire to press the subject. Moving on, he asked, "What were you saying about being Mystic? You aren't related to the Aggron that snowed over half the crater, are you?"
"Oh, you mean Step? She's mean! …But we're friends."
"Of course." Phol wondered if most of this was some kind of sleep-deprived hallucination. Still, on the off-chance that this was real, he motioned for Angelo to head into the hospital.
"Rhys, do you know Heal Pulse? I believe your kind are also capable of learning it."
"Er—not immediately," he said. "I could channel my aura toward it if you give me time."
"Please. Healers of all kinds are needed right now. I suspect we will have a lot of injured coming toward Kilo Village on foot."
"On foot…" Rhys frowned deeply. "We need to find a way to help all of the villages that used to be connected by Waypoint, immediately."
"Oh, oh! I know! What if I shrank down the villages and flew them here?"
"Do we even have the necessary housing and shelter for that?" Rhys said. "I don't think we do. Willow, even if you can carry them, I'm not sure if you'd be able to help them once they arrive. How long does that shrink magic operate for?"
Phol decided to not ask why a Joltik was capable of shrinking people. "Can she do it in reverse and make something increase in size? Is it permanent?"
"No, and no," Willow said, sticking her upper half in the air. "Making things bigger is dumb unless I'm the one that gets to be bigger."
This is who I have to work with. Phol growled. "Fine. What about shrinking supplies and flying them over, and then returning them to normal size?"
"Oh! I can do that!" Willow nodded. "That reminds me of the Poké Ball things that Owen told me about from Brandon's place!"
Rhys looked like he had just had the life sucked out of him, but Phol didn't understand a word of what the strange Joltik said. "Whatever it reminds you of, put it to use here. I have to check on a few more patients, and then, when I'm sure everything is at least okay, I'm taking a power nap."
"Mrm, perhaps I should do the same again," Rhys said. "ADAM, are you awake?"
"Systems operational."
Phol tilted his head. Porygon-Z's voice had changed. That was odd, but then again, so were all of them. "And how are you doing, Hope O.S.?"
"I believe that is just some sort of code name," Rhys said. "He prefers to be called ADAM."
"Mm, right. Well, if you can help out at all, do what you can. Direct anybody who needs healing to the hospital, and if you find any others who know Soft-Boiled, or Heal Pulse, perhaps even Morning Sun, any techniques like those are welcome."
ADAM buzzed. "Parameters accepted."
With that settled, Phol returned to the hospital to make sure Angelo wasn't loafing about, dreading the potentially endless wave of injured Hearts and explorers that would come to Kilo Village.
The flight from Hot Spot to Quartz HQ was long, cold, and tense. Step considered several times whether it would be a good idea to simply drop Nevren from her back right then, but she figured he would just Teleport. His lucky charm, whatever it was, unnerved her. Several times she said something and it seemed like he already knew what she would have said.
Psychics. How invasive. Can you hear these thoughts, Alakazam? Know that when your guard is down, I can kill you.
But Nevren did not acknowledge, nor react, to her. Instead, he seemed focused on the increasingly-distant void in the sky, which had thankfully stopped its expansion.
Step finally landed when Nevren directed her to where Quartz HQ was from memory. Because of course Nevren would have the memory for traveling to this place without Waypoints. Step snorted out another frosty plume and landed on the blackened ground. Her legs sank into the darkness. She tumbled forward with a surprised shout, slamming her hands in next. "Ugh!" She spat a beam of ice to right herself, pulling her legs out next. She used a platform of ice to more evenly distribute her weight.
"Fascinating," Nevren remarked, using Psychic energy to float above the darkness. "I don't think this is a wraith, as I don't sense the same malevolent aura coming from it, but I certainly sense… Ah! It's Nate. Hello, Nate."
"Nate? Is that not the Dark Guardian?"
Just then, several eyes on the ground opened, each one staring at Step and Nevren. It was a field of them, reflecting what little light came from the early morning sky. They all blinked randomly and independently of one another. An arm rose from the darkness and waved at the Aggron and Alakazam.
Step stared without a change in her expression. "Hello, Nate."
Hello… The arm flopped back down into the rest of his mass.
"Why are you outside, Nate?" Nevren said. "And, er, you seem to be a bit… flattened."
I'm a little tired.
"I can see that." Nevren leaned forward, looking at one of the eyes. The lid was halfway closed. He heard several tired groans and murmurs from all over Nate's body. "Why are you tired?"
I had to stop Dark Matter.
"Ah. I see." Nevren knew that the strange, ultra-powerful Dragon attack was from Anam, and Judgement was certainly from Arceus—his tower they had seen when flying to Quartz HQ—but the final attack… "I did not expect the Dark Guardian to know Light of Ruin."
Light of what?
"An ancient attack," Nevren said. "I've been able to emulate it somewhat with some of our technology, but not organically. Nate, who are you?"
I'm Nate.
Step's eye twitched. "That isn't what he meant and you know it."
Sorry, I don't know. I've always been this way.
Step was growing increasingly impatient. "Then perhaps it is hidden behind a Divine Decree?"
"I'm not so sure," Nevren said, frowning. "Nate… Are you familiar with that attack at all? Where you got it from?"
Nate was silent, perhaps pensive. Step couldn't tell.
No. I woke up one day in the Chasm. I always felt like I had to stay there, because… Because.
"Well, I suppose that explains why it was so easy to convince you to move," Nevren said. "Hrm. Regardless, we need to head inside. Stay safe, Nate. Return inside when you have the energy, but we need to—"
Something was making muffled shouts from below.
"Nate, are you smothering someone?"
Oh. Sorry.
His body weakly shifted around, arms and various other limbs pulling something out from below. Lavender, in his base form, let out a deep gasp and said, "Father!"
"Ahh, Lavender."
Step tensed, entering a battle stance. She still remembered the last time they had met and she wasn't about to let herself be caught off guard again by this monstrosity.
Lavender seemed to remember, too, and he shrank away, eyes glowing cyan.
"There's no need to fight, you two," Nevren said. "We're allies here, yes?"
"Was that a joke?" Step said in a low growl, slamming her tail down. That hit several of Nate's eyes, making him wince and jiggle. She grumbled to herself and stomped over Nate as quickly as she could, following Nevren into the main entrance.
The white halls unnerved Step after having flown over a completely blackened Kilo. Luminous Orbs had completely disabled themselves, so why was Quartz HQ still operational?
That left her thinking back to what had happened in Hot Spot. How everyone had simply fallen or fled. That pathetic, gooey dragon getting possessed by Dark Matter. Some world leader he turned out to be.
"Why are these Orbs still working?" Step asked.
"Hm? Ah, Elder actually made them, not Anam. Perhaps that is why."
"Elder? Then he can replenish our supplies?" Perhaps that was why he was so useful to them. That oversized Torkoal had no fighting spirit in him; his power had been dedicated toward blessings instead.
"Unfortunately not. He made these Orbs over the course of… decades, really. He doesn't have the power to make more than one for several days."
"Then this was a slow preparation in case Anam revoked your blessings," Step deduced.
"Ah, sharp. Very sharp," Nevren said, smiling back at her.
Step slammed her tail on the ground irritably again, her anger bubbling in her icy chest. She wanted to summon her spirits to assist in the fight, but what would have happened to them if a wraith attacked? There was no telling. She already lost her family once, and she didn't intend to lose it again.
She hadn't checked on them in a while.
Ra. Is everything okay?
Wraiths are trying to attack our realm, but…
It's too cold! Cent chimed in next. We're just blowing them back!
Oh, and Alex is frozen. Um, what do we do with him?
…Frozen how?
He's just sorta there. He stopped moving a while ago.
Step rubbed her forehead, ignoring Nevren staring at her. Put him to the Ice Core. Amia is missing, so he is my spirit for now.
With that out of the way, Step glared at Nevren again, her eyes anything but friendly. "I'm only here to keep an eye on you. If you try anything questionable, consider yourself shattered in ice."
"I understand."
Lavender plodded behind, keeping his head down despite being taller than both of them. "Then why are we here?"
"First, we need to reset the auras of anybody who may be going berserk from the undue stress. Were you taught the Reset Wave from Amia or Rhys?"
"No."
"Ah. That makes things difficult. I suppose only I will be able to do this, then. Alternatively, you could kill them."
Simultaneously disgusted and unsurprised, Step snarled at him. "You would kill your own creations?"
"It's not quite killing if we control their revival process. It's simply a Reviver Seed with extra steps, hm?"
"You treat death as if it has no consequence."
"For us? It does not." Nevren glanced back. "How is your dead family doing?"
The Aggron stopped walking and Lavender bumped his beak against her back, stumbling. He mumbled an apology, but Step ignored it. Instead, she slammed her tail against the wall, her toe claws digging into the marble. "Do not get smart with me."
"I apologize." Nevren turned around and bowed his head. "Will we continue?"
She waited for another remark, but none came. She retracted her claws from the ground and glanced at her tail; it had cracked from the impact. After some focus, the ice repaired itself.
"I will freeze any troublesome mutants and you can reset them."
"Lavender, will you help?" Nevren continued down the corridors again.
"Oh, um, okay," he said. "Actually, um, when we can, is it okay if we go to the incubation floor? Auntie Rim's there, and…"
"Rim?" Nevren asked. "Is she overseeing the reviving Pokémon?"
"No, um—" Lavender pawed awkwardly at the ground, talons scraping against the tile. "She's… in one."
That one stopped Nevren. "In one."
"Um, when Star attacked, and she took Auntie Rim's Orb, something bad happened to her." His voice quickened with every word. "She was fading, and Dad said to take care of her, so the only thing I could think of was what happened to others when something bad was happening to them, and—"
"Is she okay?" Nevren cut in.
"I don't know!" Lavender said, beak trembling.
"…Did the machine give any warning messages?"
"No. It's making her aura and body now."
"Hrm… Very well. On our way down, we will stabilize any mutants we see, and . . . "
Step had lost interest in the conversation. She could care less about what strategies Nevren and Lavender had for neutralizing mutants. She would just find the ones she could, freeze them if they were acting up, and move on. Simple.
A Druddigon rounded the corner ahead, staring at Step with wide eyes. "G-Guardian?!" he said, but then entered an uncertain battle stance. "I—you're not allowed here! Go away!"
"Move aside, whelp."
Step didn't pause her walking. She saw the weakness in his eyes. When they weren't in their 'battle modes,' as Owen had called it, they were nothing but docile children and not worth her time.
"Nuh-no! That's not allowed!" The Druddigon fanned out his wings and bared his fangs, blue cinders falling from his jaws.
Step continued walking, staring him down. His body tensed further, but the tentative step back told her all she needed to know. Once she was a few paces away from him, the Aggron lowered her body and snarled, clouds of ice billowing out of her mouth.
Druddigon screamed and ran down the left hall.
The Aggron rose again and snorted. "Pathetic, all of them," she said. "Shame on Eon for enlisting these innocents." She then glanced back at Nevren, still planning with Lavender, who struggled to understand the full scope of his instructions. "…And shame on you for coordinating it all."
In an effort to clear her head, Step wandered the halls and eventually found a peculiar dead-end with a number on the wall. One. She stared at it suspiciously, waiting for it to do something like the rest of this absurd place. Someone was behind her—she sensed their irritating life energy—but she waited for them to speak. Nervous? They were probably nervous.
"U-um, d-do you need help?"
Nervous. Step huffed a small plume of cold mist. "What is this? I do not trust it."
"Um, it's a wall, and if you say a number between one and ten, it'll bring you to that floor."
"Bring me?"
"Yeah, using Nevren's teleportation. He's really good at that. I even saw him make a portal once!"
Step finally turned her head to look at the speaker. Another abomination: This one was a Donphan with the red cheeks of a Raichu and the shell of a Magcargo. What a sad existence. Did they even enjoy living that way?
"A-are you okay?" the abomination asked, shrinking back.
"Are you?" Step asked.
"Not anymore…"
A tense silence followed, and then Step turned around to completely face the thing. "Tell me," the icy Aggron demanded, "do you enjoy being what you are?"
"Excuse me?" it asked with a squeak. Electricity crackled in its cheeks and flames sputtered out of its shell. "I don't understand."
"Being what you are. This fusion of… I am going to guess three Pokémon. Fighting a war you do not fully understand. Losing your mind and your self to battle. Is it a happy way to exist?"
But it all went over its head. Step saw no recognition in those mindless eyes. It just shook its head and tried to move past her, but her body was too wide for the halls. "I just want to go," it said.
"Hmph." Step moved to the side. "Leave, then."
"I think Dad's nice," it went on.
"Eon, the Hunter?"
"He just wants to save the world."
"The world is collapsing."
"Well, he could fix it!"
Oh! It had enough courage to speak up! Step could respect that, at least a little. Perhaps they were not so docile after all. "Why do you fight for him?" Step asked. "What has he given you?"
"He… cares for us."
"How do you know?"
"I don't understand what you mean…"
Step let out a slow breath again. "How does he care for you? He feeds you? He plays with you? Do you genuinely think he loves you?"
"I… yes? I don't know what you mean."
This was growing tiresome. Why did she even bother? They were all under his cult and they were his leader; they had been created, cultivated, and indoctrinated with no perspective of the outside world. Of course it wouldn't understand.
Maybe she could get some use from it yet. "Never mind," Step said. "Is there anything interesting on the other floors? I am weary of the first."
"Um, well, the dining hall is on the fifth floor, and my room is on the third floor, um… Did you ever go in a Poké Ball before? The ninth floor has a bunch of those."
A place like this must have had a more interesting location than silly spheres and a place to eat. "Where is the Dark Guardian kept?"
"Oh, Nate? Eighth floor. It used to be one of the sparring rooms, but since he's so huge, we had to put him there instead…"
None of that was useful. "What's the most important floor?" Step asked.
"U-uhh… well…"
"The deepest? Ten?"
The way it refused to speak afterward said all she needed to know. She closed her eyes and stepped away. "I apologize. I didn't mean to intrude. Please, you may go."
With a relieved sigh, he bumped against the wall and said, "Three," and disappeared.
If Step had to make a guess, the place where the mutants were grown was on the tenth floor. She stepped toward the wall, staring at the 'One' that taunted her. Very well, Eon. Let's see how blasphemously you've toyed with death…
"Ten."