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Cyrus Theron can’t really say he hated things, or loved too for that matter. He remembers when he first took Jupiter under his wing, Mars and Saturn too, all three of them would individually quiz him on what he hated or loved.
Jupiter Bellatrix would ask about entertainment, Mars Betelgeuse would ask about nourishment preferences, Saturn Rigel would ask about human behaviors. None of them would get the answer they wanted from the man who saved them, the man they would follow to the ends of the universe.
Even Charon Saiph would quiz him on his opinions, but his questions… were different.
“How do you feel about Sinnoh Champion, Cynthia Rutherford?”
“How do you feel about the three chosen children?”
“How do you feel about the universe?”
Cyrus could not give the scientist an answer he wanted. He simply crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. All he could manage to answer was, ironically, “I have no answer.” Charon let out a small, ‘harumph’ before returning to his work under Cyrus’s watchful direction.
Charon would then tell him some weeks later, “For someone who’s devoted his life to becoming what is basically god, you having no opinion on those subjects is contradictory. I won’t question your integrity though.” For someone who’s so devoted to him, Charon had quite the mouth on him, Cyrus noted. But he didn’t say anything, half because Saturn already started chiding away at him for merely doubting Cyrus’s motivations.
In truth, Cyrus did have at least one answer.
According to Sinnoh mythos, when Arceus was creating the world, its ultimate gift, its ultimate miracle, was the universe itself. What enables life for humans, and life for Pokemon, the grass they stand on, and the water they drink, the joy they laugh, and the grief they cry. Merely being alive in this beautiful universe was Arceus’s ultimate gift to you as an individual.
Yet Cyrus stands in front of Jubilife City and watches as parade floats march down the city and music blares and is sung with people’s full hearts out, thanking Arceus for even letting them be alive. But what has Arceus done for them? He can feel his heart freezing as the hollow delight they celebrate happens before his eyes.
He could only think of his parents, how rejected and hollowed he felt when he saw their looks of disdain. It was just as he saw Jupiter, Mars, and Saturn all in times of need, so vulnerable, where no one but he was willing to give them ground to stand on, save them. What kind of miracle gives people something that makes them vulnerable, causing everyone so much strife? Miracles are supposed to be perfect, so why are people struggling?
How can he feel joy in a so-called, incomplete miracle, that gives them emotions and attachments, a thing that distorts the world in every which way?
But it could be fixed, he could make it into something perfect, something worth celebrating. He just had to remove emotion from the world.
For now though, the universe was an empty miracle with no meaning. That was a definitive fact Cyrus knew for sure.
In truth, Cyrus never met the chosen children once. He couldn’t really make an assessment of the three with only stories to go off of. Murals that rant and rave about how these children were unstoppable in the face of the end of the world, and will come back years later to save the world again and protect it eternally after. More miracles that are blessings to the world. He figured they were something to watch for, dangers that will step in his path every which way to prevent his plans to become a god.
However, this changed when he first made eye contact with knowledge’s tribute in Solaceon Ruins. A young boy writing down the unknown alphabet, researching and recording what knowledge he could extract from the world like the curious child he should be. He wondered if he knew his role in the world. He wondered what his perception of knowledge was, was it simply knowing? Or did it go further than that? Surely Uxie’s champion must know, and so he interviewed and battled him.
He disappointed him greatly though, as when he asked him questions about knowledge, the boy could only answer encyclopedic ideas. All he had was simple observations of the world with a lack of understanding. He could see from the way he interacted with the Unknown already, how he watched at a distance. All he was, was a smart kid who was coincidentally the professor’s aide. He may be smart, but how far will simple knowledge take him in life? How could he defend this world when he struggled to beat such a weak team?
He questioned what made him embody knowledge in the first place. A young boy who was only smart for a kid, not knowing anything someone with ties to the world should know. Surely even he was smarter than him, Saturn was for a fact.
So he walks away, the Unknown clearing a path for him in what he assumed was fear, although perhaps it was something else. He doesn’t turn back when the boy yells for him to wait, not giving the boy a chance to ask his questions. It doesn’t interest him that much anymore.
His encounter with willpower’s tribute in Celestic Ruins wasn’t anything to write home about either. The girl’s natural blue hair, and tired, dreary eyes, she was a one-for-one image of the girl in the ruins behind him. He wondered if she knew, but knowing or not, he decided to test her worth as Azelf’s champion both in battle and an interview.
However, she disappointed him greatly as she struggled against a team that wasn’t even at its full power. Her Prinplup, just a few levels shy of even evolving, seemed to want to collapse just as much as Murkrow wanted to, before it succumbed to the water pokemon. But if he wasn’t at his full power, how could she protect the world? Were the other children just as weak as her?
He questioned what made her embody willpower in the first place. He could tell from her answers that she was a simple girl who follows what the adults want of her, with no real wants of her own or desire to pursue things for herself. He could hear in her answers, she was someone who was once just like him, someone who was once just like Jupiter.
So he walks off, allowing the girl to see her prophecy for herself. He doesn’t stay to see her reaction, no matter how curious it may make him. Although, with dreary eyes like hers, it probably wouldn’t be any interesting.
He finally encountered his most detested champion to the world, the thing that distorts everything in this world, the emotion’s tribute. An energetic, rash boy who runs around with little attention to his surroundings. In fact, their encounter started when the blonde boy knocked into him. Of course a kid wouldn’t be enough to knock him over, but it still was mighty rude. The boy’s yelling about fines and other trivial things gave Cyrus enough time to get a good look, recognizing him as the blonde on the wall. So he quickly shifted the conversation, challenging the boy to a battle and questioning his ideas.
But he, just like his two friends, disappointed him. Although maybe he shouldn’t have expected anything of emotion given how much it ruined this world. His rash ignorance and yelling, it was almost as though there wasn’t anything there but energy. And that energy would turn into annoyance in the coming conversation, especially after his lost battle. He couldn’t do a lot to a less powerful team, and such an explosive boy had very little to say about emotions.
He questioned why Mespirit thought he embodied emotion in the first place. He clearly didn’t have consideration for others, and was so reckless and explosive that Cyrus thought he was the antithesis to what everyone should seek with emotion. Someone without control, someone unlike Mars.
So he walks away with his assessment on the final child, not turning an eye to the boy yelling at him to come back and pay up his fine for bumping into him. He had no interest in what else he had to say, he’s already seen enough.
Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised anymore when the world legends lie about miracles, these three children clearly weren’t. They were simply, unremarkable children. He couldn’t wrap his head around how the lake guardians could prefer them over people like his admins. These weren’t worth being celebrated, just as the universe wasn’t worth being celebrated.
But while he’d fix them in his new universe too, he needs a child to join him.
Perhaps he could get emotion, given its easily exploitable nature, to join his efforts. How ironic would it be to see him turning these so-called perfect miracles against each other to ruin each other. Cyrus decides that, truly, he thinks these don’t mean anything.
They’re nothing but empty, only miracles in name.
Cyrus knew Cynthia Rutherford since they were in college together. She always seemed to glow, no matter what, even in the dark, even in the rain. She topped all her classes, and won every battle. Rumors were always passed around about who she really was, some said she was just a prodigy, others tossed around the rumor she was Arceus’s favorite. The called her a living miracle.
Of course, the latter seemed like a stretch to Cyrus. But they didn’t talk outside of some “sorry”s or “excuse me”s. So years after college, and years after Cynthia was crowned champion of the Sinnoh region, he was confused when she shared her secret with him.
Cynthia was chosen by Arceus, it was watching down on her, and she sees visions of the end of the world caused by him. She says she wants to save the world, but more importantly, she wants to save him. By then Cyrus was already well on his way to accomplishing his goals, so he wondered why she “wants to save him.”
It’s peculiar of the resolute woman he heard of, you would think she should kill someone where they stand if it means destroying life as they speak in her eyes. But she didn’t do that. Instead she declared her goal, and walked off. It ticked him off, but he wouldn’t let it get to him, stop him. He’ll let their war be one-sided.
Yet every time she could manage, she tried to appeal to his goals, only the two battling when she decided she needed to appeal a different way and got desperate. Of course she pummeled him, she was the world champion, but everytime she let him go.
How could she? Arceus clearly wouldn’t be showing her those images if it didn’t want her to strike him down where she stood. Yet she didn’t do anything. It irritated him. If she was so obsessed, why didn’t she just order Garchomp to just end it already? Was she looking down at him?
Truly a waste of power, Arceus was a fool. He’ll show it what power is like, what a true miracle is like. He didn’t need its power to become like a god, he’ll become one all on his own.
An empty miracle is meaningless after all, which is just what Cynthia’s blessing was.
Now as he watches the world distort and destroy itself, the chosen children screaming for their friend lying in a pool of red, and Arceus’s tribute standing with a horrified mouth agape, Cyrus questions why his team had concerns about his plan succeeding. The world that was supposed to be perfect, undeniable, with four tributes to stop him every which way, was bested in just one single bullet into one that was so easily manipulated.
Truly, this world, these children, and Arceus’s blessings were nothing but empty miracles.
And here, he watches them suffocate in its own blood.