Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 126 - Outskirt Showdown

He still couldn't breathe.

"Just what should I do to you... before I drag you to the dungeons, I wonder?" Alexander pondered, squeezing tighter. "Rip your arms off... and one leg... leaving you to hop back home? And then I take you anyway... You wouldn't bother to run, would you? Would you prefer that?"

He didn't understand why Alexander was doing this. Why? Why was he taunting him? He already couldn't fight back! What was the point?

He's drunk with the power of Shadows, Owen heard. His eyes bugged out; where had he heard that voice? He couldn't tell where it came from...

"You're responsible for me being here, you know. Do you remember that?" Alexander pressed more, only giving enough room for a single breath so Owen didn't pass out. "Do you remember? That wonderful little war..."

He didn't. He really didn't. Perhaps Alex would have known the full story there. But this wasn't adding up. Was Alexander alive during the era of Legends? No, that was impossible. Alexander was Alex's father, and surely, they were not alive when he was the Wishkeeper.

Was this the other war?

There had been two...

It was all a blur. Owen didn't know what was what. His arm being broken and his body in general bleeding all over wasn't doing him any favors, either. Or perhaps it would... Tentatively, Owen tested something silently. He felt a dull, painful throb in his broken arm. That pocket of energy he'd stored there in case of emergency was still there. Alexander hadn't ruptured it.

"Answer me," Alexander snarled, clamping harder on his throat.

He tried to speak—didn't know what—but no words came. No air to exhale.

And then he let go and Owen could breathe again. He gasped a deep, loud breath, and then seconds later a deep pressure snapped his other arm—he'd gone for that one next. Owen didn't scream this time and that seemed to perplex Alexander.

"Cry," he snarled, pressing harder.

He is addicted to misery.

"CRY!" Alexander blasted Owen in the chest, blowing half of his scales off in one strike.

It won't satisfy him for long.

For a fleeting moment, Owen's vision was clear. Far from him, he saw ice and water. Fliers in the air. But they weren't going to reach him; their path was askew.

Maybe crying was a good idea.

"I said cry," Alexander snarled, pressing into his shoulder.

"S-STOOOP!" Owen screamed, letting out a bloody, agonized roar, hiding his disgust as Alexander's face twisted into an ecstatic grin. He pressed again and Owen cried in unison.

This was humiliating. His body was already in some kind of shock because he couldn't feel any of it. He fell to the ground. Alexander pressed his good head against his back, drilling a spear of darkness into his spine. The cold spike felt like it was carefully avoiding vitals.

Owen screamed again and Alexander hissed with delight. The mangled Charmeleon's eyes scanned the ground, then at where he'd seen the fliers and ice. Their path had changed, and suddenly. Quickly. With purpose.

Did you just utilize your own pain to call them?

Where are you? Owen called. Are you... Dark Matter?

...I don't know where I am.

"You... stopped crying. Wake up." Alexander pulled Owen back to his feet, biting into his shoulder with the smaller head to do so.