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When the ogre came tearing down the mountain, incandescent with rage, I did what I had to do. I did what anybody would have done.
I hid.
But, oh, I didn’t need to see it to know exactly what was happening. I heard it all. My Chained calling out in unearned bravado, their jeers and cackles quickly transforming into cries of shock and pain. They whined and cried out for me, boss, boss! Help us! Where are you? The humans screaming, scrambling to get away, leaving their once-heroes for dead. I’d already done everything I promised. I said I’d lend them my power, and that’s what they got. If they couldn’t use it to best a foe they had every advantage against, it was simply out of my hands.
I believe Munkidori fell first. His shrieking stopped almost immediately, and Fezandipiti’s not long after. Okidogi, of course, lasted the longest. I could still hear his huffing between the wet, meaty impacts of the beast’s infernal cudgel. Eventually he, too, fell silent.
They are never really meant to last. Always there are others who want, want, want, and I can give it to them. What choice do I have, in such a small, incapable body?
I hear the ogre limping around, dragging her gore-caked weapon. She warbles like a starly with a broken wing, struggling for breath. My poison is inside her and she won’t be on her feet much longer, but I know better than to expect that this alone would be enough to bring down something as ancient and powerful as she is. If it was, I wouldn’t need my Chained.
They killed my friend! she cries. They murdered him! But of course, humans do not understand the speech of pokemon. They’ve grown bolder, seeing how weak she is. They set their own monsters on her, their furious voices surrounding her even as she sobs over her dead master. They mistake her wails of mourning for the howling of a demon, lashing out in avaricious fury over her stolen treasures.
Where is the fourth one, she demands, even as they close in around her. Where is their leader? Where is he?
The humans drive the ogre out of their village, deep into the mountain. They think they haven’t seen her since, but they have, even if they did not recognize her for what she was. She still dances among them during their festival, her mask hiding her tears as she weeps for what she used to have. She’s watching, waiting for me to show myself so she can slaughter me too. Perhaps one day she will buckle under the loneliness, but until then, I can wait too. When the day comes that she is gone, I will finish what I started.