AN: So this chapter contains a lot of exposition and world building some might like it some might not but it need to go somewhere and currently I'm not skilled enough to give it in a more pleasant manner

We Meet Again

My eyes creaked open slowly, sluggishly revealing themselves to a world of muted hues and stillness. For once, I wasn't scorched or blinded by the infernal golden streams that flow from the great ball of light that grants life. No, this was different. There was no fiery dawn, no warmth to stir me. For the first time in what felt like eons, a peculiar sense of accomplishment filled me. Gone was the ever-present feeling of failure that had dogged my every step, clawing at the edges of my mind. I had succeeded.

She's alive.

That thought alone sent a wave of calm through me, soothing an ache I hadn't realized was there. For once, I had done something that mattered, something that wasn't stained by the specter of my own monstrous existence.

Sitting up, I noticed immediately that the ground beneath me felt… wrong. It wasn't stable. It gave under my weight, soft and malleable like a trampoline made of dirt and clay, held together by some invisible force. The mass of earth shifted slightly, precariously on the verge of crumbling, yet stubbornly refusing to do so. I pressed a hand against it and felt its resistance, an unsettling tension that sent a shiver through my spine.

Looking around, my breath caught in my throat. I recognized this place, and the familiarity struck me. The endless void stretched out in every direction, dark and inky, an abyss that seemed to devour all light. The only reprieve from the overwhelming blackness was the faint violet hue emanating from the crumbling islands that floated in this empty expanse. These islands hung suspended in defiance of reason, connected only by their shared doom of inevitable decay.

I let out a slow breath, the truth settling in like an old, unwanted companion. Some might rationalize this as a fever dream, a hallucination conjured by an overworked mind or a dying body. But I knew better. I knew my demons, and his name was Shade.

And then there was the atmosphere—dense, heavy, oppressive. It was twisted in a way that would make any being from the natural world recoil. Yet, strangely, it didn't bother me. On the contrary, it felt familiar. Comforting, even. My aura... this place feels like my aura. Both carried the same unsettling quality, warped and jagged, sending shivers through those unprepared to face it. For lack of a better word, we were both equally distorted.

My musings were interrupted by a voice that cut through the silence like a blade—undeniably feminine, yet paradoxical in nature. It was both soothing and regal, commanding and serene.

"So, Shade, you have finally awakened," the voice purred, sending a ripple through the fabric of the world itself.

I whirled around, instinctively falling into a defensive stance, and froze. There she was. Her serpentine form moved with an eerie grace, her body an ashen gray that shimmered faintly in the violet glow. Black patterns streaked her flesh, blending seamlessly into the abyss around her, while vivid crimson markings pulsed like veins of molten fire. Spiked tendrils trailed behind her, shifting and curling as if alive, and atop her form was a golden mantle that radiated an almost divine authority.

Giratina.

The name echoed in my mind like a drumbeat as the fallen deity slithered effortlessly through the void, her massive body dwarfing the islands she passed. She approached a particularly jagged spire of rock and coiled around it, her weight causing the structure to groan under the strain. When her massive form had fully encased the spire, her head rose to its pinnacle, perching like a predator surveying her domain.

"I must say, mortal," she said, her voice layered with amusement and something darker beneath it, "I did not expect to see you again so soon."

Her words hit me with a strange sense of finality, like she was the last authority on whether I would exist here—whether I should have existed at all. The silence between us stretched for a moment before she continued, the edges of her tone sharpening with a hint of something... reluctant?

"But since we are here," she mused, a flicker of something almost... apologetic in her voice, "I suppose it is my duty to answer some of your questions. After all, I was the one who denied you your end—"

"Thank you."

The words slipped from my mouth before I could fully process them. The moment I said it, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. Thanking the being who had yanked me from the precipice of the afterlife and tossed me back into a world I didn't understand. But it felt right, somehow. After everything, after everything I had failed to do, at least Luna was still alive.

I saw Giratina pause in her motion, her massive head tilting to one side. Her golden helm clicked open slightly, revealing the shock that crossed her expression, the confusion in her eyes. She blinked once, twice, her form momentarily still before responding.

"W-What?" she stammered, an unusual tremor in her voice.

I stared up at her, unsure whether to continue or not. But it felt necessary. "I said thank you," I repeated, my voice steady now. "For giving me another chance, for giving me the opportunity to redeem myself... for that, I thank you."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then—without warning—a faint blush tinged the edges of Giratina's form, her crimson streaks deepening with what I could only describe as embarrassment. It was an absurd sight—Giratina, the god of darkness, the embodiment of chaos, blushing. I almost felt the need to apologize, but then I remembered everything.

"No need to thank me, human," Giratina replied, her voice wavering slightly, still holding a trace of that self-consciousness. "The reason for my actions... were, after all, selfish. If not a bit... childish."

I couldn't believe it. Giratina, the fallen goddess, Pokémon Satan herself... is embarrassed? It was almost comical. Her voice wavered again, and the blush deepened. It didn't fit the terrifying being who once ruled the very shadows themselves, but there it was. The unthinkable had happened: I had reduced a god to a flustered mess.

Before I could process that, I found my voice again. "Even still," I continued, shaking my head, "if it wasn't for you, Luna would be dead three times over by now. So for saving not just my life, but indirectly saving Luna's life... I owe you a debt. And I won't be taking no for an answer."

I felt an odd sense of confidence, something bubbling up from within. Maybe it was the strangeness of the situation. After all, I'd died already. Nothing could truly hurt me anymore, right? The thought was absurd, yet it made perfect sense. This was beyond the realm of reality, anyway.

For a brief moment, I questioned where this surge of confidence came from. Was it because of the fact that I knew I had no real stake in what happened to me? Or perhaps it was that strange, disturbing comfort of knowing I wasn't truly alive anymore. Either way, I wasn't backing down.

"But I would like to take you up on your previous offer," I added, my voice softening. "Of answering my questions... if you don't mind that is?"

Giratina's large form twitched, momentarily shaken from her embarrassed stupor. She straightened, returning to the regal, godly demeanor I was more accustomed to. The golden helm snapped closed with an almost audible click, and she nodded, her eyes narrowing with a knowing gaze.

"Yes, Shade," she replied, her voice deep and heavy, no longer betraying any signs of fluster. "The offer is still standing."

I took a steadying breath, my mind running through the questions that had been swirling around ever since I woke in this void, this twisted, distorted world. No more stalling.

"Alright, first question," I began, a strange form of determination settling over me. "Am I dead?"

Her gaze flickered, and she blinked in slight surprise before answering. "No," she said simply, her voice matter-of-fact. "You are still of the living... but that is because of my interference. Even with your... enhancements, attacks of that caliber are typically lethal, and I can only interfere so much in that realm." She paused, clicking her tongue in mild annoyance.

That made sense. I had been torn apart by the flamethrower in Luna's stead—gutted, scorched, broken—but here I was, still standing. Still breathing.

I nodded, digesting that information, but I wasn't done. "Then, was it you who was responsible for my changes? My younger body, my violet eyes... all these enhancements?"

At that, Giratina's voice grew noticeably more sheepish. "W-well, t-technically yes," she stammered. "The alterations to your body... those were my doing, but not all of them were... intentional."

My mind blanked. "What?"

Giratina sighed, almost embarrassed by her own admission. "You see, mortal, my... interest in humans for the last several millennia began and ended with their demise. I saw them as beings of greed, hate, and destruction—things that leave only disaster and pain in their wake." She paused, her voice tinged with distaste. "It was only recently—even by your standards—that I began looking at them in a more favorable light."

I understood that perfectly. In my world, people were just... people. Flawed. Imperfect. Sometimes cruel. But I also understood that they were capable of more than just their darkness. I had witnessed it firsthand, with Luna, with myself, and even the poachers. The darkness wasn't the only thing that defined them.

"But that doesn't answer your question, does it?" Giratina continued. "Well, when I found you, Shade, you were... broken. You had died hours before I found you, and while retrieving your soul was trivial, your body was not as simple." She paused, the weight of her words settling in.

"I am a being of godly ability, yes," she continued, "but my specialty lies in the realms of souls and shadows. Life, death, and creation are... not my areas of expertise. They belong to other beings, other gods. I can influence them, but I do not rule them."

I considered her words, the vastness of her knowledge, and how limited she truly was in certain domains. It was humbling, in a way. Even a god had its limits.

"Coupled with my general lack of knowledge about your species—apart from how best to exterminate you—I was left with one reliable solution," Giratina said. "While your body was damaged beyond what could be repaired, it was not unsalvageable. Your nerves, your musculature... many components were beyond repair. So I gave you a new body—one based on what was usable from your old one, while substituting parts from creatures I knew much more about."

"You don't mean—"

This time, she was the one to interrupt me.

"Yes," she said, her voice calm yet heavy with an unspoken weight, "while it has now been lost to the annals of time, I was once known as the Guardian. Some even referred to me as the Savior. It was my responsibility to protect and nurture my father's creations. Naturally, this led me to acquire rather intimate knowledge of Pokémon and their biology—knowledge I have maintained, even as the centuries passed."

Her gaze bore into mine, unreadable yet intense. "When I found your body, much of it was… irreparably damaged. So, I replaced what was broken, suitable substitutes derived from the structures of compatible Pokémon. Your muscles—now stronger. Your nerves—enhanced, giving you faster reflexes and greater coordination. And…" She hesitated, as if weighing her next words carefully. "Parts of your brain."

"My brain?!" I blurted out, the sharpness in my voice betraying my unease.

"Yes," she said without flinching. "Your grey matter had deteriorated significantly. A large portion of the brain cells you did possess were either damaged or dead. You may have already noticed some… gaps. Memories of your younger years, for instance—faded or completely missing. Both your long-term and short-term memory were affected."

She paused, her tone softening, as if to cushion the blow. "To stabilize your mind and body, I replaced the damaged sections with those derived from several powerful Psychic-types. While this did not restore your lost memories, it significantly improved your cognitive function. Other enhancements were necessary as well, to ensure the stronger tissues wouldn't tear your body apart. However…" Her voice grew quieter. "There was an unforeseen consequence."

I absorbed her words in silence, the enormity of what she'd just told me settling heavily in my chest. By all accounts, I should have been furious—outraged at the violation of my very being. But… I couldn't summon the anger.

I was alive. Still breathing. Still thinking. If what she said was true, my body was stronger, faster, more capable than before. Some might have mourned the loss of their humanity, but honestly… you don't do the things I've done and still call yourself entirely human.

And the memories? Well, maybe some things were better left forgotten.

"That consequence is…?" I finally asked, my voice steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling in my mind.

"When I imbued your form with a fragment of my power—to, as you humans might say, 'jumpstart' it—it triggered three significant changes. One of them was your eyes."

"My eyes?" I echoed, instinctively reaching up to touch my face.

She nodded. "They were damaged beyond repair and had to be replaced. However, they did not return as the hue you once had. Your eyes, Shade, became a reflection of your soul—a window into the essence that binds you. When my power merged with your being, it reshaped your soul in a way I hadn't intended, making your role as my champion… far more literal than symbolic."

Her next words sent a shiver down my spine. "This merging also had another effect: your already fractured personality split into two distinct consciousnesses. You now possess two minds—two separate entities—sharing one soul and body."

"Well," an all too familiar voice said dryly, "that explains quite a lot."

'Ah, and where exactly have you been?' I thought, addressing the other presence in my mind.

I felt him stir, his response calm and maddeningly indifferent. 'I was observing the situation,' he said, his tone devoid of malice, sarcasm, or even the barest hint of amusement.

Before I could retort, my lips moved—and words spilled forth, though they weren't mine. "May I ask a question?"

The voice was similar to my own, yet subtly different. Deeper, with an almost ethereal resonance that seemed to hang in the air.

"Ah, so you finally deign to speak," she said, an amused edge creeping into her tone.

"I never tried before," my other self-replied coolly. "But that's beside the point. You mentioned us being your champion. What does that entail? And why choose us?"

Her composure faltered once more. She looked almost… embarrassed, her earlier confidence giving way to a hesitant vulnerability. "That ties into why I brought you back in the first place," she admitted. "As I said before… it was childish."

She took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "I was recently pardoned from my banishment. Officially, at least. I still face many restrictions, one of which is my ability to select a champion. Among the Legendaries—those of us who rule over domains or wield sufficient authority such as father, my sisters, the rulers of life and death, the ruler of Order, The guardian of the oceans, The immortal fire chicken, The original dragon, The three idiots in Hoen as well as The ruler of nightmares and the moon bird —it is customary to choose a representative from the mortal realm. A being to carry out our will and, in turn, bring us glory. Off those who can select a Champion, only four of us currently possess one, myself now included, one of them belongs to the guardian of the oceans and she simply would not shut up over how accomplished he is and even I had to admit the child wasn't half bad… despite his stupidity, I finally got annoyed over her constant bragging and decided to find my own"

Her voice grew sharper, tinged with irritation. "However, I was forbidden from selecting a mortal champion. My father decreed that I, of all beings, could not be trusted with such power. He claimed my nature would inevitably corrupt and overwhelm any mortal I chose."

"Wow," I interjected, smirking despite myself. "What a dick move."

She chuckled softly, though the sound was bitter. "Indeed. Especially since he himself has a champion and refuses to see the hypocrisy in his actions. But…" Her expression softened. "If I couldn't select a champion from the mortal realm, I decided I would choose one from the realm of the dead. And since you came from another world entirely, it made you an even more intriguing candidate."

She paused, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that left no room for doubt. "As for why I chose you specifically… the answer is simple. You were born to protect. To keep those you cared for safe, you became a monster—twisting yourself into something unrecognizable. And when those you protected no longer needed you, they discarded you. Cast you aside like an unwanted relic."

Her voice softened, filled with a raw, aching sincerity. "When I looked into your soul, I saw your pain. Your rage. Your loneliness. And I felt a kinship with you. If ever there were a being who could fathom the depths of my suffering… it would be you."

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy with unspoken truths.

"But," she said finally, a faint smile tugging at her lips, "I don't want to narrate your life. So tell me, Shade… how was Jackson born?"

…

I leaned back and decided to sit, the weight of the memories pressing down on me. My voice was steady but laced with venom as I began to recount the events that led to my downfall.

"As it turned out, Gamma wasn't just some grunt with a family connection. No, his roots ran deep. Not only did he have ties to the cartel, but he also had relatives in high places within the government. In my world, having the cartel's section leader—and the very person responsible for a mission's failure—revealed to be family? That's a recipe for disaster." I paused, letting the bitterness seep into my words. "It wasn't just a bad look—it was a political and military death sentence."

I exhaled sharply before continuing, my voice hardening. "So they did what people in power always do. They covered their asses, manipulated the narrative, and used their influence to twist a few key arms in the military. The truth about the sub-leader? Suppressed. It was easy enough—after all, only Hunter and I were alive to hear Gamma's confession. Hunter was their loyal lapdog, doing exactly as he was told. And me? Well, I was the commander in charge of the operation. The scapegoat. The easiest person to blame when things went sideways."

I felt my jaw tighten, the fury bubbling beneath the surface. "They gave me an ultimatum: rot in prison for the rest of my life or disappear. And I chose the latter."

I fell silent for a moment, letting the weight of my words settle before continuing, my tone now colder, sharper. "On that day, Shade Walker died. Reduced to nothing more than a ghost to haunt my mind. And in his place, Jackson Bram was born."

My hands clenched into fists as I forced myself to keep going, my voice tinged with disdain. "When I left, I had nothing—no assets, no real identity. Most of my certifications had been erased or botched beyond repair. The only thing I had was a recommendation letter from the officer who orchestrated the whole damn deal. A pathetic consolation prize. It basically said I'd passed the military's requirements and served a few years as a nobody. That's what I had to rebuild my life on."

I let out a bitter chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "I wandered for a while, trying to figure out what the hell to do. It was months before I started to put myself back together. And then… Delilah." My voice faltered for a moment, but I pushed through. "After she died, I fell apart. I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat without feeling like something was missing. And when I did manage to sleep, the nightmares came. Every time I closed my eyes, I relived her death. Over and over. You'd think that kind of pain would dull after a while, that I'd get used to it. But it didn't. It hurt. Every. Single. Fucking. Time."

I stared at the ground, my voice dropping to a near whisper. "I needed something to keep me sane. Something constant. A schedule. A purpose. Anything to hold on to the pieces of myself that were left. So I found a job as a forest ranger." I gave a small, hollow smile. "I thought it was funny, calling myself a ranger. A little act of defiance against those bastards who wanted me to disappear. My own small revenge."

My gaze hardened, the faintest flicker of pride in my tone. "I worked there for almost three years. It was peaceful. Routine. For a while, I thought I'd finally found something resembling stability."

I glanced up, meeting her eyes. "And then… well, you know what happened next."

After a tentative moment of silence, Giratina's head shot up as if peering through the veil of the void. "It appears our meeting is quickly coming to an end… Jackson," she intoned, her voice reverberating through the space with an otherworldly resonance. The behemoth shifted her gaze back to me. Gone was the imposing air of danger and divinity she had projected earlier. Instead, her focus was singular, piercing yet strangely serene. For the first time, she simply looked at me—not as a creature beneath her, but as someone worthy of her undivided attention.

"That debt you owe me," she continued, "I would like to call it in."

My body tensed instinctively. Whatever it was, I would do it. Not because I had to, but because I owed her. And, perhaps due to the influence of a certain red head, I had developed a stubborn habit of dying—or nearly dying—for my principles. I braced myself for some impossible task, some heinous act that would weigh on my conscience. Whatever she demanded, I was ready—

"I want you to have fun and do your best."

"What?"

"What?"

The word slipped from both of us at the same time, though neither of us seemed to fully register what had just been said. For a moment, silence filled the void again, broken only by her soft chuckle. Her eyes, no longer glowing with celestial power, now held an unfamiliar warmth—a kindness I had not expected. It was the kind of look I'd seen only once before: the look of a mother gazing at her child.

And, in some twisted way, it made sense. This body—this second chance at life—was her creation. In a sense, I was her child, born of her will and power.

"I want you to explore this world my father created," she said, her tone softer now, almost wistful. "Enjoy the place I protected so long ago. Make friends, share laughter, create new memories, and don't let your past weigh you down. Make a life for yourself… have fun. And most importantly, whatever path you choose, I want you to become the best. I know you can do it. You possess the skill, the determination, and the talent."

Her words settled over me like a comforting blanket, warming something in me I hadn't realized was cold. I opened my mouth to speak, but she wasn't finished.

"And when you do reach the top," she added, her tone suddenly playful, "all of us can go rub it in that annoying face of that bitch, Lugia!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. A deep, full-throated laugh that echoed in the void. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes as I wiped them away and grinned up at her, it felt as if so much main was simply being pushed away, so much of the weight I had carried for oh, so long was finally being offloaded. "Sure thing. After all, isn't that the whole point of this place? To be the very best? Anything less would be a waste of an opportunity."

She chuckled, a sound like the rumbling of distant thunder, and extended one of her tendrils. The appendage loomed over me, massive yet devoid of malice. I raised my hand, fist extended, and met it with a light bump. Despite her sheer size, the touch was gentle, almost affectionate.

As my vision began to blur and fade, her voice echoed one last time, lingering in my mind like an unshakable dream.

"Oh, one last thing before you go. Your soul bears my mark. I'd recommend keeping your distance from Psychic types… and especially keeping them out of your mind. They won't have a very fun time."

…

When I awoke again, darkness greeted me. Memories of my encounter with Giratina rushed back, a whirlwind of fear, awe, gratitude, and—finally—determination. I lay still for a moment, letting the emotions settle before turning my focus to my surroundings.

The bedding beneath me was soft, far more comfortable than the makeshift solutions I'd grown accustomed to. As I took in the room, I noted its sparse furnishings. To call it minimalistic would be generous. A small table stood in one corner, accompanied by a few shelves lined with scattered knick-knacks: a tiny painting, a claw carving, and other curious trinkets. Moonlight streamed through a single window, casting a pale glow that illuminated the otherwise dark space.

Looking down, I realized my chest was tightly wrapped in bandages. Despite the lack of a blanket, I felt warm. That's when I noticed her. Luna was curled up beside me, her soft form nestled against my side. Her steady breathing, almost imperceptible, brought a smile to my lips. She had stayed by my side, even in my injured state. The realization filled me with a deep sense of comfort.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I let out a resigned sigh. Giratina had kept me alive, but she hadn't healed me. My recovery would be long and arduous. But for now, I had Luna, and that was enough.

Gently, I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. Her warmth lulled me back into the embrace of sleep, a restful unconsciousness unburdened by the weight of the past.