Everyone, aside from Anam, his spirits, and Nevren, was gathered around at the large, rocky cavern. The warmer air made it difficult for non-Fire Types to fight for long; Step, sensing this unfair advantage, breathed out a frosty cloud, cooling the room in a matter of seconds. Alex protested quietly and rubbed his cannons together. Most of the others consciously or unconsciously huddled a bit closer to him while the room's temperature averaged out.
It was here that Owen had trained as a Charizard fighting Manny; where he had lost against the Fighting Guardian. But Owen knew he would have won if he didn't hold back. He was just trying to control himself. That's why he lost. He was already past Manny, right? And Jerry would be no different, only this time, he was in total control. He had no reason to hold back. This battle would be over even faster than their encounter in Ghrelle's domain.
"Make sure he has a Reviver Seed!" Owen remembered.
"I don't need one," Jerry said.
"Oh, for the love of—yes, you do, Jerry!" Star said, rubbing her forehead. "And so does Owen! This stupid thing is for a purpose, not for killing each other! Now make sure you have one on you, and you know the rules from there, right?"
"Pfft, rules. I'm going by street rules," Jerry said, bouncing from foot to foot.
Manny tossed a seed to Owen; he caught it and slipped it into the bag tied around his shoulder. Amia ran over to Jerry and handed him a small bag as well, containing just the seed. Realizing that Jerry's wing-hands may struggle with working something and tying it around his neck, she helped and slipped it over his head. With that, the combatants were ready.
"So, are we really doing this?" Owen asked, looking at Star.
"Yes," Star said.
"Why?" He glanced at the others, who were sharing either Owen's confused expression, or Star's stoic eyes. In particular, he was unnerved that Rhys had his arms crossed, focused not on Owen or Jerry in particular, but the battlefield as a whole.
Owen then looked to Jerry. The way his heart beat, and the way his lungs inflated and deflated with such depth... Owen could only interpret that as a flame. A fire that he thought only those of his Type could get, but no. Jerry had a fire in his heart, too. He never felt it before; Jerry had felt cold, desperate, and hungry. But now? That must be it, Owen realized. They energized him, so now he's feeling better. Hmm... maybe I should be more careful after all, even if he's not Mystic.
It wouldn't be right to act haughty with Jerry anyway. He had a rough day. He thought back to how he had fought before—he often used Rock Blast. He wasn't sure how an Aerodactyl could know such a technique, but that didn't excuse the fact that it would be bad news for his normal form. He kept his Grassy self in mind, which would dull the blow, at least compared to his Fire-Flying default.
"And..." Star raised her tiny arm up, "begin!"
Owen beat his wings in the air, creating a flurry of pinpricks of Fire Traps in all directions. Jerry doubled back, recognizing the maneuver from their first encounter.
"Don't think you can get me with that again!" Jerry shouted. "I know your trick!" He opened his mouth and fired a set of rocks at the first one, detonating it. This caused a chain reaction, every single blast fizzling into a bright flash. Owen pushed through a gap in the explosions, mouth aflame, the back of his throat aglow. He blasted a jet of flames straight to Jerry. The Aerodactyl flew into the air, glancing at the ceiling to get a feel for how much room he had, and then dove down, straight for Owen with his jaw outstretched.
Owen couldn't help but roll his eyes. Despite his initial psyche-up to not get confident, he had to marvel at the one-track mind that Jerry had for battle. He shouldn't have expected much from an almost-ex-criminal, though.
With his Mystic power, evolved form, and unleashed aura—Jerry wouldn't stand a chance. The power behind Jerry's aura and his Crunch technique, no matter how much darkness was imbued in it, wouldn't get past Owen's natural aura shield. The Charizard grimaced at the thought. Was Star punishing Jerry with this fight? That seemed a bit cruel—he already had a hard life, and now Creator Mew herself was...?
So distracted by these idle thoughts, Owen forgot to bother guarding against the inconsequential approach of the outlaw. He could have created a Protect shield, but that seemed like overkill.
He held his arm out to block Jerry's assault. Owen prepared for when the Crunch attack would squeeze his arm, just like before, and do nothing. After that, he'd just counter with a point-blank Flamethrower, and end the—
The Aerodactyl's jaws crushed Owen's arm like a twig.
Alex and Amia both turned their heads away in unison. Demitri, Mispy, and Gahi all gasped. Willow sparked with surprise and hopped angrily on ADAM's head, declaring Jerry a cheater. Enet agreed, pointing an accusatory claw at the Aerodactyl, having also witnessed that same attack having no effect in the Dark Mist Swamp. She rushed to Amia and shook her for an answer, but the Gardevoir only winced and said to let the battle finish. Manny rubbed his forehead. Step, Valle, and ADAM watched without reacting.
Zena bit her lip worriedly. "Owen..." She glanced to her right. "Star... why are you doing this?"
Star didn't answer.
Mispy's vines glowed brightly, ready to heal him. Rhys placed a paw on her back and shook his head.
"But—"
"No," Rhys said. "They will be fine."
Owen's eyes bulged and he jerked his arm away, screaming in surprise and pain; the Aerodactyl beat his wings to daze Owen, gaining some distance.
Trembling, he held his broken arm, fractured in multiple sections—it was useless, but that didn't matter. He could fight without it. Blood trickled to the ground from deep gashes.
"H-how...?" Owen said. "I'm—I'm Mystic! I'm invincible to—!"
Jerry pointed a wing at Owen. "I don't care what you say about your so-called divine blessings. As long as you have a body, it can break!"
"Th-that's not how it works!" Owen said, flashing a look at Star. "Y-you! You—you gave him some—some sort of blessing!"
"I didn't," Star said. "I only restored him to be in fighting shape. Go on, Owen. You can sense if I'm lying. Feel my body language. Hm?"
Owen puffed. It was hard to concentrate when his arm was throbbing and stinging. But he tried, and Jerry waited.
"Yeah," Jerry said. He folded his wings to his side and shifted to his right leg. "I want to know if this strength really is mine."
Of course, she could be masking her lies. If they had no tell, then Owen couldn't know one way or the other. Nevren was like that. He could never get a good read off of him unless Nevren was relaxed. But Star was exhibiting some sort of emotion. And it wasn't that of deceit. In fact... Owen felt something else from Star. Tense jaws, her little paws clenching and unclenching. Her tail flicking, her ears twitching. And that stare she had, directed right at him. Star... was nervous. But it didn't seem to be because she was lying. In fact, when Star had said she didn't enhance Jerry, she felt a bit less nervous. Relieved that Jerry was putting up a fight?
"S-Star...?" Owen said. "I—I get it! I think I get it now!"
"Battle's not over." Star looked off.
Owen looked at Jerry again. The pain was fading; his Mystic power was patching up the wounds. Bones mended themselves, and flesh bound together. The blood had clotted up, and was no longer painting the rocks. But he still couldn't use it.
"Can we go on, now?" Jerry said. "It's time I finished this."
"A-as if!" Owen said, stepping back. He flexed his wings and flapped them in powerful, consecutive bursts, sending waves of compressed air toward his opponent. Jerry answered with a left hop, opening his mouth. He dodged the Air Slash while firing another volley of rocks from his throat. The first one hit Owen square in the chest—the rest missed.
"What an odd move for an Aerodactyl to know," Elder remarked.
Owen, winded, was trying to get his bearings.
"Rock Blast... They can't normally do such things."
"Yeah, pretty cool, huh?" Star said. "Not the best move, but it catches people by surprise. Apparently, his family line had it for generations. All the way back to the... you know."
Elder nodded. "I suppose you once gifted an ancestor of his with the technique, then?" he asked.
"That's probably it," Star nodded. "I was a bit of a rulebreaker... I mean, I made some of those rules, so I guess it's a little different..."
Elder gave Star a wry smile, and then looked at the fight. "You didn't have to do this to Owen, you know," he said. "You could have just told him. He's responsible."
"Maybe." Star used the end of her tail to clean out her left ear. "But this is payback." She moved on to the right ear.
"Payback," Elder repeated.
With a pop, Star pulled her tail out. "Yeah. For running off and acting stupid when I told him specifically not to, back when he first got the Orb."
Elder stared at Star. "Goodness. I thought Barky was the one to hold grudges."
Star's left eye twitched. "Don't make me start holding another."
"O-of course..."
Star huffed, brushing some perceived dust off of her arms. "Fine, here's the real answer: Owen's a mutant. And no matter how tame he is, he still has some mutant instincts growling in his head. Subconsciously, I dunno if anything but a fight will convince him that he's not invincible. And I don't want that happening when it counts. May as well get it over with now."
"Gnnnck...!" Owen clutched his chest when a second volley of rocks hit him. Some of the shattered pebbles knocked against his chin. Why wasn't this working? He was supposed to be able to dodge these attacks easily! He saw every attack coming. His body just couldn't react in time to the erratic firing.
"What, getting tired?" Jerry said. "C'mon! Where's that super-Mystic-power of yours?"
"I'm—I'm getting to that!" Owen hissed, putting most of his weight on his right leg. Now he knew why. His arm. It was still distracting his movements. Even though he could see every strike, and even though he knew exactly where he had to go to dodge—he just didn't have the speed or agility to execute it. It was the fight against Gahi all over again.
He had to get clever. And so, Owen closed his eyes, slowly... and focused. His body turned green again, and his scales became leaves, his flame a flower.
"There it is," Jerry said, a sick grin spreading across his face.
"Yeah, there it is." Owen glanced at Star. He still didn't understand. He was supposed to be completely beyond Jerry's league by now, wasn't he? Or... or was Jerry just always weak and starving, until just now? He thought about his fight against Manny, and then against Gahi, and then against other synthetic Pokémon. How different were they, in the end? How great was the gap in power? Why would—
"Stop daydreaming!" Jerry fired three rocks.
"Ngh—" Owen brought his wings forward and blocked the blast with a sturdy shield. Past his barrier, beyond sight, Owen sensed Jerry closing in. He opened his wings to the sight of the Aerodactyl flying straight toward him. His fangs were bared, and they were surrounded in an icy fog. Owen tried to move, but Jerry's momentum outpaced his acceleration. Jerry crunched down on Owen's other arm—but this time, something much worse than a few fractures coursed through Owen. A stinging, freezing, crushing force pierced his muscles and spread to his chest; the Ice Fang mixed with the blood and flesh and leaves of the Grass-Flying Pokémon's body.
Owen wailed and swung his frozen arm to get Jerry off, and he complied. He released his hold and flew back with the same dazing wingbeat. Then, Jerry rushed forward for a second time. Owen sensed it, and this time, had the reflexes and adrenaline to react. He opened his mouth wide and launched from his throat a sphere of green energy. Overconfident, Jerry couldn't stop his momentum in time, and the Energy Ball exploded on his chest. The explosion sent the Aerodactyl flying backward; he beat his wings frantically to regain some control in the air and skidded to a stop once he hit the ground again. A black, circular mark colored his chest.
"Got careless that time," he grunted. But he still had fight left in him. It looked like Owen did, too. But while there was fire in Jerry's eyes, it didn't take a special power for the Aerodactyl to see the fearful, frantic confusion in Owen's. Jerry brought his wing to his neck, gently stroking at the Pecha Scarf. He didn't feel any power coming from it, so that wasn't influencing his power, either. This was his... and it was shattering Owen's Thousand-Heart pride. And he loved that. "Let's finish this," Jerry said.
Owen slammed his tail on the rocks, sending shockwaves through the cave. Vines burst from the ground in huge, monstrous columns that dwarfed even Mispy's frenzy, writhing toward Jerry. The living fossil took off, weaving past the first two vines. Vine Trap, was it? They couldn't float in the air like Owen's Fire Trap. That made them easier to predict. More importantly, they were slower. Owen, knowing this, had to find some way to make them unavoidable regardless.
Jerry spotted one in the corner of his eye, threatening to stab him with its sharp tip. He banked hard to the right, earning just a graze. Then, he banked to the left, and then moved unpredictably to the right again. The vines flicked uncertainly, hitting where Jerry would have gone just a few seconds earlier, had he continued in that trajectory.
Jerry paused as if rather than a vine, an idea had struck him. He fired five Rock Blasts again, but this time, they went in totally random directions. Two went forward. One to the right. One straight up—and another diagonally down. The two that went toward Owen were the first to catch his opponent's attention. One hit the ground and shattered into tiny fragments; the other, Owen dodged. One hit Owen's rightmost vine, getting lodged inside. The remaining two shattered into countless tiny pieces.
Those many tiny pieces falling around them like rain—the many, many rocks. Owen's eyes were wide, vacant. Watching every single shard fall like it could do harm, analyzing where each one could go, how he could use them to his advantage. Accelerations toward the ground, velocities either toward or away from Owen. Owen couldn't stop. He could only stare and count and analyze, and he briefly forgot how to move. Owen's trance lasted for only a half-second. But that was all Jerry needed.
He spiraled down and twisted his body in a cork-screw. At the last minute, the claw at the edge of his wings tensed, and he spun until he could get a good angle. He wouldn't miss this one, so close. Aerial Ace would be Jerry's finishing blow. "Street rules," Jerry mumbled, twirling with his claws outstretched. He hit something; Owen felt something. But it happened so fast in the middle of his stupor that he didn't know where it had landed.
Jerry spun around and landed behind Owen, staring at the blood on his wings. He even caught a few of the leaves.
Owen staggered back, a sudden wetness all over his chest. Everything suddenly felt dark and blurry. His neck hurt. A lot. He stared down dumbly at the blood that spilled from his throat. It hurt doubly so with his current Typing—the sting propagated throughout his body. His vision faded—Jerry had struck something vital.
Owen didn't even have a moment to properly think. His legs crumpled beneath him and he fell to the ground, limp. The seed inside his bag flashed, washing him in a golden light. Owen's wounds healed, but the exhaustion of battle remained; he groaned, unable to roll over.
That was the signal to Jerry that he won. He puffed out a sigh of relief, and then looked at the others. "Okay," he said. "I guess he put up a good fight." He tapped at his chest, wincing. "Hey," he shouted, "Vines! Can ya give me a little healing!?"
Mispy glared so harshly that Jerry looked like he'd faint anyway. Gahi's arms were shaking with rage; Demitri looked like he was about to cry.
Amia and Alex rushed toward Owen to help him up; Star leisurely floated along with them. It was Rhys who ended up giving Jerry an Oran Berry to aid in his wounds. He gratefully chomped on the blue miracle, perhaps the one fruit he'd happily eat.
"Owen, Owen, dear," Amia said. "A-are you okay? Owen?" She pushed him.
"Wh-whuh... what... what happened?" He rubbed his left horn. Owen gathered enough strength to roll onto his back, grunting. "Ugh, my neck..." He still felt a phantom pain from the slash. His chest wasn't doing any better. Something blurry and pink floated in front of him—the see-through apparition of Star... She was coming closer, staring him right in the eyes, upside-down. "Star, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd lose to—"
"Never," Star said, her tone lower and more venomous than he'd ever heard, "talk like you're above mortals. Don't even think that you can't be beaten by one. And do not assume that just because you're Mystic, you have the favor of divinity on your side."
"S-Star, I...!" Owen shook his head, but that only made him dizzier. "I didn't mean it like I was better than—"
"I don't care," Star said. "And you didn't care when you said it. You just assumed you were stronger. That Jerry couldn't beat you. You're better than that, Owen. You knew Jerry was weakened. Yet, here you are. Beaten and bruised, on the ground, after getting your chest cracked and throat slashed. You got beat by an outlaw, and he beat you all on his own. I didn't enhance him. That scarf he's wearing is a Pecha Scarf, and it only protects against Ghrelle. I doubt she was helping you in that fight. No. It was just you, and him. And you lost."
"S-so, what?!" Owen said defensively. "H-he—he had a Type advantage... Rocks... and then Ice Fang! How was I supposed to know that?"
"You're right," Star said. "Yet, look at how you were before. I saw that eyeroll."
It suddenly became a lot harder to look at Star directly.
"I think your memories coming back made you overestimate how strong you really are. Think of how badly that fight with Jerry would have gone if he wasn't weak—if he had the fire to pierce through your Mystic powers back at Dark Mist Swamp. Wouldn't have been very cool then, huh? Then you'd be injured, in the middle of the poison, with Ghrelle watching your overconfidence. What if she melted you then? Maybe Jerry would become the Grass Guardian next."
"I..." Owen said. "Why're you being like this? I don't... I don't get it, I'm just—I'm just trying my best...!"
"You aren't, Owen," Star said. "You're slipping. You're getting too cozy with your power. You think it makes you invincible? If these Orbs made you so strong, I wouldn't be worried about some test-tube experiments hunting the Guardians down. If your Mystic powers made you invincible, Cara and Forrest would still be alive. But they aren't."
Owen puffed. The phantom pain of the battle was fading. It was replaced with a knot in his gut.
"How'd Jerry beat me?" Owen said. "I'm still Mystic, and he couldn't have become that much stronger just from being revitalized."
Owen didn't expect Star to react with silence. He had been expecting another quick retort.
"To be honest," Star finally admitted, "I didn't think he'd beat you so soundly."
"Gee, thanks," Owen huffed. That was even worse than he'd been anticipating. He refused to look at Jerry, even though he could feel his proud grin.
"But I knew he'd've given you trouble. Because he's a lot like you, Owen. Resourceful, clever, that sort of fighter. And he's also got a Type advantage on you, no matter how you slice it." Star shook her head, sparing Jerry a small nod of approval. "But I think what gave him the win... was the light in his eyes, I guess. You saw it, too, right? The fire? He had something to prove."
"What, so Jerry won... not just because his energy was back, and he had a Type advantage... but also because... of his sheer will?"
"Yes."
Owen stared. "...Willpower doesn't... do anything, though. It'll motivate you to do a little better, but the body's the body."
Star smiled slightly. "Yeah. Normally."
Owen waited impatiently for the answer.
Star obliged. "Mystic Pokémon have some advantages." She raised her hands in a shrug. "They can warp reality to what they desire, in some small ways. Change their form." Star glanced at Manny. "Evolve and un-evolve." Star nodded at Willow. "And of course, strengthen their auras. And all the other little tricks that Mystic powers let you do, by nudging the world around you a certain way. But that doesn't apply just to the Mystic." She nodded at Jerry. "In battle, Pokémon draw from their auras and tap into divine energy. That's what makes their techniques possible—and their ability to survive them from others. Their offense and defense is enhanced by the aura. This all sounds familiar, right? Rhys' aura theory?"
"Y-yeah..."
"That was by my design. And when a Mystic is in battle, that Mysticism permeate the whole field, and that Mystic aura becomes a constant presence. If a mortal's aura fire burns bright enough, they can take advantage of that in battle, too. Because in the end..." The Mew trailed off, nodding. "Drawing from that divine energy is what all Pokémon do. Mystics just have a better connection. But since Pokémon do the same thing... their auras can draw from the Mystic atmosphere. Too. And that," Star said, "is how Jerry beat you."
Owen gulped, but then he brought his head down. He understood. Mystic Pokémon were powerful in a lot of ways, and he encountered so many others who dwarfed even his power. With how much he'd been training, and how honed his aura had become, he thought he was totally beyond the average Pokémon's power.
He looked down at his chest; there were still subtle stains from his own blood. "That's why the Synthetics, who aren't Mystic at all, can still give Guardians trouble."
Star nodded. "I need to remind you of that. Sorry that I made an example out of you, but... I felt it getting out of hand. This goes as a reminder to you as much as it does to everyone else. Don't forget, yeah? No matter how strong you are, and no matter how many defenses you think you have... The moment someone gets an upper hand? And you aren't ready for that? That's it." Star made a little flourish with her tiny hands, creating little, purple bubbles of Psychic energy. "You lost." The bubbles popped.
<><><>
Anam's office was quiet except for the occasional sound of papers flipping and pages turning. Then, the dull noise of a pen scribbling away.
"Ah. That must be it," Nevren said, circling his findings. "Well. I should probably dispatch someone to rescue them." He placed the paper on one of the piles. "James does good work, Anam. It's a shame he can't help me right now."
"Nn... nngg..."
Anam was slumped against the wall, eyes wide, holding his head. The feelers that sprouted on the top of his skull were throbbing uncontrollably, overwhelmed by some invisible, internal sensation.
"Yes, yes, I understand you want to help, but that's not something I can allow at the moment, either."
"Get... get out... of my..." Anam said. "P-please... Nevren..." Gooey tears hit the ground. "I thought... you were..."
"Unfortunately, that isn't part of my plans," he said. "You need not worry, Anam. This is an uncomfortable transition, but you will grow used to it soon. However, I must be honest, it would have been a lot easier if you just accepted it outright. I shouldn't have been so reckless. I would have simply revised the moment... but given how close we already are, well. Eon is impatient. I'd rather not have him upset. This will do. I'm positively giddy that it is finally working." Nevren's tone remained neutral throughout, and turned another page, reading through the next report.
"All this time... I thought..." Anam said, but his eyes were becoming empty. Vacant.
"I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Nevren said, flipping a page. He didn't spare Anam a glance, far too invested in reading the report in front of him. "I genuinely value this town and this world. And I do value your outlook, Anam. The charisma you overflow with and the morale you provide to the town has been invaluable. There is no use in destroying what you have built, let alone take it over directly. But some things have to be done for the greater good. Sacrifices are necessary. With any luck, they will only be temporary. But it is better than our current trajectory, yes? Yes.."
"No..."
"Mm, I believe you mean yes, yes?"
"N... nn..." Anam's eyes stared at the floor. "Y... yes..."
"Very good, Anam. I'm proud of you."
"Thank you... Nevren..."
Nevren suddenly glanced up, and then glanced at a small badge at the bottom left corner of the table. The badge was a sapphire color, with a gray, dim circle in the center.
"Elite Heart Alakazam Nevren!" someone shouted, rushing into the office. Nevren didn't even glance up, but he knew it was a Golem. "Th-there's a sighting of another one of those mutated Pokémon! It's running wild in the—wh-what's going on?"
The Pokémon saw the scene before him—the Association Head slumped on the wall, and Nevren, standing there, without a care, with a disturbingly neutral, indifferent expression. "E-Elite Heart Alak—"
"There is nothing to worry about here," Nevren said with a casual wave of his hand. "You won't remember any of this. Let's just wipe that mind clean of the past few moments... ahh, there we go."
Golem stared dumbly ahead.
"Now, close your eyes," Nevren said, not even looking up.
Golem shut his eyes.
"You will turn around and walk. Your mission will be to gather two Elite Hearts to neutralize the mutant. If it is close to the village, there is no other choice. If it is far, try to subdue and relocate it to the Evergreen Prairie. I will handle it from there. Go on, now." Nevren shooed him away with a gentle flick, and the hypnotized Pokémon opened his eyes.
"Understood!" He was back to normal and didn't even look back.
Nevren returned to the report, circling another bullet point. "Modifying memories is so cumbersome," he murmured to himself. "At least I had practice when Owen ran through the town as a Grass Type." He shook his head. "Perhaps I could have done that better. Ahh, but how would I hide Anam? No. What I did was best for that one. He will forget. Ahh, Anam. How are you feeling?"
The Goodra was silent.
"Hm. This is a difficult rewrite. Oh, well. It's only a matter of time. Very persistent, Anam. But I already have you. There is no way to counter me at this point. It's a losing battle, yes?"
Suddenly, a black fog emerged behind Nevren. James burst from the shadows, ready to fire a feather-arrow directly into his back. But he didn't. His body was frozen. Nevren looked at his hand; the Petrify Orb in it evaporated. Shortly afterward, the sapphire badge at the corner of his table brightened; the gray circle became a bright blue.
"In another time," Nevren said, "that would have hurt quite a bit, James. I am surprised you still have a will of your own, with Anam in such a state." He put his pen down, finishing the final document of the day. He picked up his spoons and turned to address the frozen Decidueye directly. "But then again, your spirit realm has always been... curious. Spirits usually become like their vessels. You are nothing like Anam."
James' eyes were filled with the malice of a thousand vengeful spirits. Yet, he was immobile.
"I'm sure you know as well as anyone that the wills of spirits are strongly linked to the will of their host. And, to a much weaker extent, vice versa. Perhaps that is why Anam took so long to control... If I could go back far enough, I would have tried it all again with someone else, perhaps someone less powerful, but still useful. Still, orders are orders." Nevren held his arms up in a nonchalant shrug. "In the end, this is the payoff. How are you feeling, James?"
The Decidueye kept glaring, but now there was a flash of fear, and confusion, too.
"There is no need to be afraid, James. I have no intention of rewriting your personality, or even your sense of self, let alone Anam's. I am merely altering a few goals and desires. That is all. ...Hm?" Nevren turned his attention to Anam again. He was standing up.
"Ah, Anam," Nevren said. "How are you doing?"
He shambled forward. Every heavy step left behind slime and black fog.
"Hm. Abnormal," Nevren commented, though he did not move.
The Goodra held his arms forward and grabbed Nevren by the neck.
"Very abnormal," Nevren said, feeling a light pressure against his throat. "This isn't Anam anymore, is it? Ahh..." Nevren stared into Anam's eyes. That was a different glow. This glare was something Anam wasn't capable of. How fascinating to finally meet her again. "I'm very sorry if this upsets you, Madeline."
"I... will... KILL... you..."
"I'm afraid that is no longer a choice on your part," Nevren said. Slime went down his neck, down his chest, and onto the floor. The Goodra's grip tightened. This possessed Pokémon could easily crush his neck, yet it never happened. Because that part of Anam's mind was already wiped away, replaced by an instinct to never harm Nevren. And so long as this spirit was a part of Anam, that instinct was part of her hard-wiring, too.
The fact that she was being so forceful was interesting. So interesting! The power of the spirit to defy their own design by sheer will alone. Extraordinary! This was truly the power of Mysticism, of divinity itself. Yet, it was still just a ripple against the inevitable. A small disturbance that faded into the expansive lake, into oblivion. Even now, her grip was fading.
"Why...?" Madeline asked. "Anam... trusted you..."
"He trusts quite a few people. In fact, it would not be much of a stretch that Anam trusts everybody. It was that trust that allowed him to acquire the Ghost Orb in the first place, was it not? Yes... an Orb too powerful to fight, acquired by a Goodra that knew only to befriend. It was that same openness that allowed me to slowly rewrite his subconscious mind. Quite underhanded, I know. But there is no need for honor when all that matters are the results. You may let go of me, now."
The Goodra instantly let go of Nevren's neck.
With a gentle Psychic blast, the slime flew off of his body. "After five hundred years of careful subconscious writing," Nevren continued, "and constant reworking and retrying, I believe we are ready. Quite a few of the pieces are in place. The prototypes are stabilized. Their leader has the Grass Orb. Over half of the Guardians are gathered in one place. Now, if only we could penetrate the Trinity..."
"Your sins... will never... wash away...!"
"Sins?" Nevren questioned. "What a fascinating term, Madeline. Anam speaks very fondly of—ahh, but you know that. Hm. Well. In any case, I believe you are nearly gone, now. I suppose I will give you the opportunity for your final words before the rewrite?"
The Goodra's eyes were becoming vacant again. His mouth opened once to say something, but only a little breath came out. Black fog surrounded his body, swimming restlessly in his slime like an infestation of bugs. Lumps of shadow-like matter danced beneath the surface of his amorphous form.
The words that came from Anam was in an amalgamation of the thousands of spirits within him. The voice was corrupted, every single one speaking over each other in a garbled cacophony, yet they all said the same thing. "I will... cast you... into... the void..."
Nevren wasn't expecting that, leaving him in a hesitant silence. "I see," Nevren said. "I hope you considered that a productive use of your thoughts."
And then, the Goodra fell back, asleep.
The office was quiet again. Nevren gently scratched at an itch on his chin. "...Ah! I forgot about you. I apologize." Nevren reached forward and tapped James on the forehead. The Decidueye blinked and shook his head, the effects of the Petrify Orb ending upon contact.
"What... happened? A-Anam?"
"Do you not remember? You were helping me with the daily reports. Anam mentally exhausted himself, slipped into the pool, and fell asleep."
"Hrmnh... I do not," James said. "I must have exhausted myself as well. That's... worrisome. Are the reports finished?"
"Yes! They are, certainly. Once Anam wakes up, you can return to the others. Until then, perhaps you can survey the building. It has been a while since we performed a status check on the general missions, considering the... Orb gathering."
"Hm, that is true," James said. "Very well. Thank you, Nevren, for your constant help."
"It is not a problem, James."
The Decidueye sank into the ground; the resulting fog trailed out of the office.
Anam quietly mumbled in his sleep. Nevren arranged the papers into a neat stack, leaving only the summary page at the very top. They had quite a few new assignments to take care of. The Alakazam sighed. Speaking of assignments, he just finished his longest one.
"Like a weight off my chest," Nevren remarked. After nearly five hundred years, it was over. Everything was falling together.
All he had to do now was wait for enough of them to be in one place.