Work Text:
He lost. He had lost yet again, hasn’t he?
His grip on the pokeball was shaky. The eyes of the crowd fixated on him as the last of his pokemon fell to the ground. Frozen air filled his lungs; his eyes felt like they were turned to stone, as did the veins in his arms.
The whispers grew louder; the crowd’s collective judgement was being passed from one attendant to another. His teeth were about to shatter from the pressure around him alone. Not even Melony’s concerns were registered on his mind; all the words around him amalgamated into a brute cacophony that choked all the will and rationality out of him.
His heart was on fire. His lips were dried as he stared at the nothingness before him. It was so hard to continue standing up- fucking impossible to focus on anything but this blunder forged by his own hands- which he now sees as nothing but useless vestiges. His heart was a war drum in the midst of conflict; beating as though the drummer’s life was on the line if they were to dare and drop the pace. How he wanted to gouge his own eyes out and rip those ears out…
“Pitiful.”
What on Earth was he missing?
He tried to change his strategies, he really did. The sad look on his pokemon’s eyes broke him every time, but they just couldn’t be of good help…he had to be a better trainer.
That’s what good trainers do, right? They make sure their teams were optimal. After all, strategy came first; that was what he learned from all these battles that long moved his heart.
"Foolish."
Another loss.
He looked down at his final, fallen comrade, not taking his shaking hands into account. Was it the cold? The stress? The sheer disbelief of what was before him?
Or was it frustration? A poison seeping between his clenched teeth- ready to curse out himself and direct his anger to the world? Readying him to pound against the earth beneath him until his knuckles were mangled and bloody?
No…no, this can’t be it. He had to push himself further- he had to be better. Not a single Pokemon of his would listen to someone as fragile as he was; he had to make an example out of himself if he had to be a strong leader- a hero to them…
“Hypocrite.”
Wooloo…
You promised, didn’t you?
He stifled his own sobs. Oh, how could you have done this to them, Hop? They were the closest thing you had to a childhood friend! They were right by your side to the very end! All you had to do was to keep their head up, tell them it wasn’t their fault, and that you would still enter the league together if you both focused! All you had to do was stay strong-
But you couldn’t. You just had to up and leave them; cast them to the dirt where you dragged his good name through.
In the end, he couldn’t even uphold that.
“Pathetic.”
Over and over…over and over, he had repeated this fruitless, pitiful endeavor- all to no avail.
Finding himself floating adrift, Hop feels as though his very existence was slowly slipping from his fingers; becoming one with the very void surrounding him. He couldn’t even feel his limbs, much less his face.
No matter how much he had stretched himself so thin, it just wouldn’t work. The evidence was there before him, for all of Galar to see- his true rival and his brother on that field together, the latter holding the other’s hand and raising it up in the air…that no matter what he did, all the sacrifices he had made, it was all up there in the air like smoke. His dreams, hopes, and ambitions- gone with what shine in his eyes that were left.
Oh, little sheep…do you not realize that you have tangled yourself within this spider web- the very definition of insanity?
“Worthless.”
He’s tired.
With each loss, it got a lot harder for him to get up and walk away.
His legs were shaking, and not just due to the harsh winds around him. The winds were picking up their pace, but the eyes, the eyes, the eyes-
Why must you insist on further embarrassing yourself, young man? Can’t you tell when it’s the time for you to just drop everything and move on with something better for everyone else’s sake?
You’re just embarrassing yourself at this point- nothing more than a clown attracting disrespect and shame like flies to a rotting carcass much like yourself.
…
Yeah…
What if…it was him?
He couldn’t take the watchful gazes of the crowded streets anymore. Oh, how he wanted to hide away in the corners of the world- render his own face into nothing but a crimson pulp just so their judgemental glares, mocking smiles, and whispers would finally leave him alone and hollow.
His heart was racing- his veins were on fire, and his arms were about to burst.
It was too much… Upon stumbling upon a silent, empty, dirty alleyway, he slumped onto his knees as he shook from both the cold and pressure of all the bottled up frustrations in him. At long last, the waterworks finally broke out. Only the night sky and howling winds were his current company; doing little to distract him from his pained heartbeats and dried up throat.
He couldn’t hold on to his victories, no matter how feeble or small. It didn’t matter what he did or how much he tried, all that he’s tried holding on to will just slip away from his fingers, like the breaths of fresh, cold air escaping him; inhaling just enough as to not allow him to pass out on the spot, but it was only that much.
The sound of metal clanging on the ground escaped his ears. It was only when he was finally slumped on the ground that he had noticed the fading luminescence just before his reach. Even as his body shook from the mental strain and the cold, he still recognized the jewel that was on the dirtied ground. Hands shaking, he slowly picked up the once brilliant object…
Through jittering teeth, he just couldn’t help but sob whilst instinctively smiling; the sound coming out like a sort of soft giggle…
Hahahah…oh, don’t tell him- don’t tell him he couldn’t…
What a mockery- look at him, everyone! Not only had he failed the challenges before him, but, oh, this poor damn pest- he couldn’t even look after his own damn soul gem! The very thing he had traded away what was left of his identity outside of the league for- and even then, with his wish, it only made sure that his mistakes would return to him in even stronger, more merciless manners. Was it due to him being unable to focus on both perfecting his strategies and his duties as a puer magi?
For all Hop cared at that moment, it was just another sign of his pathetic, useless existence. Worthlessness- no, he was way beneath that; he had failed. He had failed, he had failed, he had failed, he lost, he had motherfucking lost.
Answer yourself this, Hop- Do tell how you expected to come so far like this! How you have managed to shamble and shuffle through the league challenge like the worm you are, with nothing but another’s achievements to your name- and you couldn’t even take good care of that!
“…Useless…”
Hop shakily breathed out.
“Hah…if only I wasn’t born so useless…”
His grip on both sides of his head grew tighter. As he gritted his teeth and his eyes twitched, one last thought flashed in his mind-
“There’s…nowhere left for me…”
“Everyone else is moving on without someone…some pest like I am…”
With all the air that was left in his lungs, Hop roared into the night and unleashed all the grief in his heart. His anguished wail was interrupted by a sudden crash, and all that was left were the howling, autumnal winds…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Word of the contestants’ escalating behaviors grew amongst the people of Galar.
At first, it manifested as deepened anxieties; competitors being so overwhelmed by the upcoming events that it caused them to hyperventilate, shake uncontrollably in between sobs and unintelligible screams, or, at worst, completely melt down; faces reddened by tears as they were unable to remove themselves from the ground due to the paralyzing nervousness and hysteria. Initially, these incidents were brushed off as being related to the individuals’ worries over the nature of the Gym Challenge, on top of the resulting trauma caused by the Darkest Day; even after the region was granted another chance at seeing the bright, blue skies, tensions were still at an all-time high, so, at the time, this appeared to have been the most rational conclusion.
It was when they’ve descended into thrashing bitterness and violence, however, that concern was finally demanded and raised- and, along with them, a whole basket of questions that craved all the answers in the world; anything to make sense of what was unraveling. Many a stadium had to close down - some even in the midst of these breakouts - for investigation purposes in order to get to the bottom of this anomaly.
Before long, rumors began to spread amongst the Galarian public- both on the streets and on social media; ranging from a contamination of sorts, to possible side effects of the Darkest Day that the current chairman was uninformed of. In the end, one by one, the majority of the gym leaders had to step forward admit that they knew as much as the rest did regarding the matter, but that did little to help stop the creation and spread of conspiracy theories, and they soon devolved into a competition of its own; on whose hypothesis is the most click-worthy and attention-grabbing.
Nothing was stacking up; everything had been tested - the water, the air, the soil, and especially the power spots -, the stadiums were inspected from top to bottom, and even the gym leaders were interviewed; it all came back negative.
The chairman himself had gone dark.
In the midst of the mass hysteria, right everyone’s noses, the range of whatever was influencing these stadiums, the…being that has sending all these people into these frenzies…was growing.
Violent breakouts and missing persons reports spiked without ever showing a sign of slowing down. Nay, not even the gym leaders were spared- with Bea finally coming to her senses while Allister tried to subdue her and not hurt the rest around her, and Milo’s herd of Wooloo going completely berserk and in complete panic not unlike the contestants and their own pokemon.
It was at its assumed worst when it had finally reached Postwick Town. Most of Galar had succumbed to what was engulfing it with its malice and twisted hopes, and, according to theorists, they doubted it would stop there. The people residing in the Isle of Armor and Crown Tundra were given the order to lock down and cease all functions until further information’s released, in the vain hopes of preventing the spread of its influence.
And then-
Silence.
Everything around them was completely dim, with nothing but small flickers of flame and their own eyes’ adaptation to help traverse them through what became of the region; a dim, cold land with ashy skies overhead, overrun with scared wildlife and…monsters- beasts you have never seen the likes of before. Perhaps staying still while you’re able to recognize Galar while you could would be the wisest choice; stray far enough, and the world around you will fade, shift, and turn, until you find yourself not outdoors anymore, but in a dingy, suffocating hallway filled with cracks and little to no light-
and, soon enough, you will realize that you are not alone.
To the most fortunate (or unlucky, depending on the perspective), the sight of the missing people was there for them to see; lined up for their next battles and subsequent executions. Days of being trapped, fought, beaten up, and isolated in pain did a number on their psyches, and that is without mentioning the existing effects that have already engulfed Galar; plunging them into insanity.
By the braver and most informed few, most of the missing people have currently been accounted for- most, had it not been for the unfortunate casualties resulting from…all that has been unfolding around them, whether they were still yet to be found, were done in by beasts swarming through these twisting tunnels, condemned by whatever’s waiting for them at the center of this cursed maze, or…just couldn’t take it anymore, is still up in the air. Those whose statuses have not yet been confirmed included the younger brother of the former champion himself- who, quite possibly, may have been one of the earliest victims, if the timeline was to serve them right-
Oh, but if only they knew better- that the bright-eyed, enthusiastic Hop was right back to where it all started; watching the competition from atop the stage, waiting for the next match to begin. The empty husk that was once “Hop” was silent; slumped to the back to his seat with his dull, milky eyes staring into the distance, as the crowds roared once the hero and his new challenger entered the fray.
Yes…yes! Cheer for him! ONLY HIM!
Shaking from the cold and the tension of her surroundings, Gloria’s attention darted from the armored monstrosity to her unconscious rival amongst the masses. His colors all but completely desaturated- it was nothing short of a miracle seeing his body still somewhat intact, though his sunken face and sloughing skin - some even falling as soon as she grabbed on to him; revealing pale bone -...
Without thinking, the armored girl screamed.
Contrasting Gloria’s priority shifting from grabbing on to Hop’s corpse and make a break for it to taking down that thing who must have caused it, Leon was…silent. His heart sank as he fell on his knees- his eyes shook as he fixated on the monster before them. His blood ran ice cold; it was so hard to breathe without sobbing…
Gloria and the gym leaders who have finally located the arena - those who have and haven’t contracted - deemed that being a monster- Hop’s God damned murderer, but Leon knew better.
The gold hues that were pooling from what's assumed to be the monster's eyes were unmistakable.
His own little brother was right before him, waiting to fight him in the middle of this arena-
Just like how he had promised- like how he had always wished for…