Chapter Text
It began with a whisper.
Like embers catching dry leaves, the whispers spread through the regions, growing louder with each passing moment until they erupted into a chorus of jubilant cheers. One phrase echoed through every city, every town, every nation. From the technological heights of Kanto to the romantic streets of Kalos. From the harsh deserts of Orre to the windswept plains of Paldea. Through all the cities of Galar and across the sun-drenched islands of Alola. Everywhere, there was one triumphant cry:
"The Warlord is gone!"
"THE WARLORD IS GONE!"
"THE WARLORD IS GONE!"
Everywhere... except one place.
Deep in the shadows of a forest near the Indigo Plateau, where the smallest Caterpie to the largest Pidgeot made their home, six figures moved with practiced stealth. Each wore a sleek black jumpsuit adorned with intricate patterns of stars and galaxies—living constellations walking the earth. In the center of their chests gleamed a curved symbol like the letter C, written in pearl white against the cosmic backdrop. While the world celebrated, they remained silent. They had to.
For Him.
They emerged from the treeline, their movements fluid and purposeful. Before them stood the majestic Indigo Plateau—its marble columns reaching skyward, its brick-red walls telling tales of countless battles and champions. But they weren't here for the grandeur above. Their target lay beneath.
The leader—a tall figure with calculating eyes—withdrew a black and yellow Ultra Ball from his belt. Without a word, he released his Pokémon. In a flash of light that some might mistake for something mystical or extraterrestrial, an Excadrill materialized. Its dark brown body bore diagonal red markings like war paint, and its steel-clad claws gleamed in the moonlight.
"Create our entrance," the leader commanded softly.
The Excadrill's response was immediate. Its drill-like claws locked together above its head as its body became rigid, floating slightly off the ground. The combined drills began to spin—faster and faster until they became a blur of motion. Then, with devastating precision, it plunged into the earth. The ground parted as easily as water before a blade.
One by one, they descended into the darkness. The tunnel led them through layers of security and foundation until they breached the wall of a pristine corridor. Marble surfaces reflected their ghostly forms as the leader turned to address his team.
"The world celebrates His defeat," he whispered, "but they don't understand. The world needs Him. We need Him."
They navigated the labyrinthine halls with practiced efficiency until they reached their destination: the morgue. Three guards in sleek bodysuits—each bearing the symbol of a Master Ball wreathed in laurels—stood between them and their goal. The conversation the guards were having about battle strategies meant nothing.
All that mattered was Him.
With silent efficiency, one agent struck. The first guard fell before he knew what hit him. The other two spun around, reaching for their Poké Balls.
"Intruder alert! How did you—"
A Lunatone emerged in a flash of red light, its crescent form casting eerie shadows as it released waves of hypnotic energy. The guards crumpled without another word. Their key cards—belonging to Vulgo Maken, Ogganal Dallari, and Nox Crayson—scattered across the floor. The leader snatched up Crayson's Level 9 clearance card.
The morgue door opened with a soft hiss that seemed to mock their intrusion. Inside, rows of cryogenic chambers and metal caskets lined the walls, but these weren't what they sought. Their prize sat at the far end of the room—a simple clay pot bearing two letters:
WR.
The leader carefully extracted a small vial of ashes from the urn, handling them with reverence. These weren't just remains. They were potential. They were power. They were the future.
He would live again.
He would rise.
And this time, no one would stop Him.