Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The challenger approached the Champion of Hisui atop Mount Coronet. The Spear Pillar Temple was strangely decrepit for a holy place, where it was said that the Lord of Hisui himself convened with his most beloved mortal creation.

The title of Champion was highly sought by the wielders of Hisui, who longed to impress their almighty deity. Some even spoke of immortality as a reward, to say nothing of the material gifts and fate’s favor. But for as long as the current Champion had held the position—which was to say, the entire recorded history of the region—she had never once been bested in battle.

But that, the challenger knew, would change today.

The Champion stood at the very edge of the temple ruins, staring out at the sky as if frozen in a perpetual state of deep thought. The challenger immediately recognized the colors and styling of her attire as those of the Lord in his most traditional depictions. Fine white silks were artfully draped around her form, and she was adorned from head to toe with emeralds and gold. Her hair flowed in the breeze, only slightly flattened by the ornate diadem on her head.

“Do you wish to challenge the Champion of Hisui?” she asked, causing the challenger to sharply inhale. The woman did not face them, and clearly did not plan to do so without a formal conversation.

“I wish to speak with the Champion of Hisui,” the challenger said, forcing their voice to steady. “There is something that she—you—ought to know.”

The Champion turned around at that, revealing the face of a woman who most certainly did not age naturally. In fact, she appeared to be not much older than the challenger—but of course, appearances could be deceiving.

“I will admit,” said the woman with a slight smile, “that is a new one.”

The challenger blinked. They had not expected such a casual composure from the Champion of Hisui—although, their expectations had admittedly been imprecise. There were plenty of rumors regarding the Champion’s personality throughout the region, and much speculation regarding her team of pokémon, but there had never once been a challenger who had returned with the memory of what they’d experienced. It was common knowledge that when it came to Spear Pillar, the only way to leave with a tale to tell would be to best this woman in battle. Otherwise challengers could expect to return bewildered, collected at the foot of the mountain by rangers patrolling the area.

“Very well,” said the Champion, gracefully rearranging her silks as she sat on the small stairway leading to her former perch. It seemed bizarre for her to lower herself in front of her challenger, until she motioned for them to do the same.

“Evening the battlefield,” she explained with slight humor as they took their place beside her.

The challenger met the Champion’s intelligent gaze and quickly looked away. They knew what they needed to tell her, they knew that it was important, but in the awe of the moment they couldn’t help but ask—

“So you’ve met Lord Volo?”

She seemed unsurprised by the question. The challenger supposed that it must have been asked many times before.

“I am his Champion, yes.”

A chill ran down the challenger’s spine. His.

“Is he watching us now?”

She tilted her head slightly, and the challenger regretted the tactlessness of their words.

“This is the holiest place known to humankind and pokémon alike,” the Champion said. “I should hope that the Lord is watching.”

The challenger had been warned of this. They took a deep breath.

“I know the history of this world,” they said, “and I know that we are meant to believe it.”

“History?”

“That this world of peace was created from the ashes of another; an irredeemable and infernal world, which had fallen as a result of its own wickedness.”

The Champion nodded. “That is the truth.”

“But I don’t think it is,” said the challenger, nerves increasing with every word. “You have to listen to me, please. I have heard the voice of the old world’s creator, and it has told me the truth.”

“You… what?” The Champion appeared genuinely surprised by this. Distressed, even.

“The old creator was subjugated by the Lord,” the challenger explained frantically, needing to get the words out before said Lord lowered himself from the heavens to intervene. They would face Volo, of course, on behalf of this region’s true deity—but not before freeing the innocent Champion from her Lord’s deceptions.

“A single mortal—the Hero of Hisui, blessed by the original creator—once served as the protector of its divinity. The man you call Lord Volo weakened them, defeated them in battle, and ultimately seized the god’s power by force. He used it to erase that entire world and imprison the true creator’s physical manifestation, taking its place and wielding its abilities himself.”

The Champion did not appear convinced. “But what of the Hero? Was she erased?”

“According to my god,” said the challenger, “they fell.”

“How interesting.”

“But that doesn’t matter now,” the challenger insisted, reaching for the woman’s finely-adorned wrists. “What matters is that you get out of here. He’s going to come down and I’m going to fight him, and it’s going to be dangerous for anyone without godly powers behind them. You don’t deserve to get hurt, when all you’ve done is loyally serve a Lord who does not deserve your fealty. So please believe me, and abandon this temple while you still can.”

It only took one look at the Champion’s face to know that the challenger had failed. Her expression was now stern as she rose to her feet.

“I will not tolerate such blasphemy,” she said, reaching within her silks for a strange-looking pokéball. The challenger narrowed their eyes at the thing—was it wooden?

“I’m telling the truth,” the challenger said, removing their own pokéball from their belt. “Arceus told me in my dreams!”

Something shifted in the woman’s expression at the sound of the true deity’s name. “Arceus does not exist,” she said, releasing her opening pokémon: a samurott.

The challenger decided to engage in the battle, if only to continue the conversation and potentially delay Lord Volo’s arrival. They released their opening pokémon and watched, in horror, as the Champion’s samurott defeated it with a single move.

The challenger took another deep breath and released their next pokémon, whose perfect type match would almost certainly return the favor.

“And even if it were true,” the Champion said, “even if my Lord did not simply create this world from ashes, but set the fire himself… do you not believe that a peaceful world is worth creating?” She replaced her fainted samurott with a typhlosion as if it were an afterthought.

“Not if it took the erasure of an entire world, just because it wasn’t perfect!” the challenger argued, their second pokémon falling just like the last.

“The Lord appreciates the world as it is,” said the Champion, motioning to the decrepit temple surrounding them. “If he were determined to destroy every imperfection, would we still have ancient ruins?”

The challenger sent out their next pokémon. “I don’t care about ancient ruins.”

The Champion shook her head condescendingly as she collected her fainted typhlosion and released a decidueye. “Well, Lord Volo would certainly be displeased to hear that.”

“I’m not here to impress Lord Volo, I’m here to fight him!” Another one of the challenger’s pokémon, done. That was half of their team.

“I’m afraid you will have to defeat his Champion first.”

They took out her decidueye. In response, she sent out a pokémon that the challenger did not recognize—a small black figure made of thick lines, almost resembling the written character L.

“You might as well take that now,” said the Champion, as a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. How could she not see that the entire world was at stake here? If Lord Volo continued to spread his lies, if Arceus could not be returned to its former power, then—then, it would be bad!

“This isn’t a game,” the challenger spat, taking a turn to heal their nearly-fallen fourth pokémon. This was their fastest one by far, and the unfamiliar pokémon seemed to be the Champion’s weakest, so hopefully—

The challenger’s fourth pokémon fainted.

This was not part of the plan.

“Arceus told me to get you out of here,” the challenger told the Champion. “Those were its explicit instructions.”

“Ah,” said the Champion, “so you weren’t prepared for a fight with me. Just with my Lord.”

She watched them with amusement. She understood, then, that even if they managed to beat her team, they would be entering a battle with an actual deity with a single conscious pokémon.

“Unfair, isn’t it?” she taunted, and the challenger could not believe they’d mistaken her as kind.

Who was this woman, anyway? The Lord’s Champion from the dawn of this world’s existence, almost certainly immortal and incredibly skilled as a pokémon wielder…

Their mind still racing, the challenger only half-paid attention as they took out the Champion’s unknown pokémon. In its place, she sent out a togekiss.

A togekiss.

It made no sense. The challenger’s jaw dropped. “But only Lord Volo has—”

“I wield her on weekends,” the Champion said, as the world’s most sacred creature destroyed the challenger’s fifth pokémon.

There was something in her eyes now that the challenger hadn’t noticed before. It frightened them. Arceus had not warned them about this, it had only insisted that they get her out of way—

“Wait,” said the challenger, hesitating to send out their final pokémon. “She.”

The Champion raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip. “She?”

“When you referred to Arceus’s fallen Hero, you called them a ‘she.’”

The Champion crossed her arms over her chest, confusion turning to delight. “I did,” she confirmed with a patronizing smile.

The challenger froze.

“I did not appreciate it,” the Champion told them, “when you called me weak.”

The challenger narrowed their eyes. “So he did defeat you.”

She did not scowl, or even wince. She almost appeared proud. “Send out your final pokémon,” she told the challenger, “and I will show you defeat.”

Togekiss chirped happily and spun in the air. The challenger prayed to Arceus as they released their final fighter: the first pokémon they had ever wielded, entrusted to them more than a decade ago.

Togekiss defeated it with a flick of a wing.

The Champion tutted pityingly as she walked closer, recalling Togekiss and reaching for her final pokéball. “Now, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she said as a pokémon emerged at her feet.

The challenger narrowed their eyes, unsure what to make of the strange misshapen figure. “But you’ve already won the battle—”

The Champion sighed, beleaguered, as the challenger became transfixed by her spiritomb’s magic. “But seemingly, still not the war.” The challenger could barely hear her final words before losing focus completely:

“Send Arceus my regards. I look forward to meeting its next challenger.”

And then everything faded to white.

The Lord Volo’s realm was abundant in daylight. Unless, of course, he wished for it to be nighttime—then the only light came from the brilliance of the stars, arranged into elaborate images of his choosing.

He rested his cheek on his palm, smiling adoringly as his Champion approached his throne.

“Tough day at the office?” he teased, using the modern terminology she had taught him by the light of countless campfires.

She did not kneel, nor did he expect such behavior from his beloved Champion. Instead, she dropped herself right into his lap.

“We should really put a bench down there or something,” she said, playing with the hair of a god as if it were a child’s toy. “The steps are rather uncomfortable.”

“Very well,” Volo smirked, and then snapped. “Done.”

He did not actually need to snap, to create a bench atop Mount Coronet. But Volo had always been one for dramatics.

“Show-off,” said the Champion as she kissed Volo’s lips. The slight change of angle allowed him a cheeky squeeze of her clothed flesh, a brush of long fingers along her waist, and of course one mustn’t forget the chest—

“Don’t you want to know how it went?” the Champion asked, doing absolutely nothing to stop Volo’s exploration.

He smiled and hummed into the skin of her neck, feeling the coolness of her jewelry against his cheek. “Let me guess,” he said between kisses and nips, “you won the battle?”

“Always,” the Champion said, gripping Volo’s hair and pulling him closer. “Well, almost always.”

He recognized the slight self-deprecation in her voice and bit more harshly. Her noise of combined pain and pleasure was a hymn to his ears.

Volo pulled back slightly to meet his Champion’s eyes, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Well then, my fallen Hero…” He adjusted the pendant around her neck, the first gift of many from her Lord, so it rested exactly where he wished it to be. “Why don’t you show me how you live in defeat?”

She picked up his suggestive tone and returned it tenfold. “Anything for my Lord,” said the Champion of Hisui, reaching for a particular point of interest beneath Volo’s deific attire.

“You endure with such grace,” Volo praised, running a gentle hand through her hair.

The Champion sighed softly and relaxed against her true Lord. 

Chapter Text

BEFORE

The Champion of Hisui knew that something was wrong when she reached the temple’s remains.

Volo had been acting more strangely than usual in the past few weeks, as their search for the plates of Arceus drew closer to its end. Restless, lapsing into bouts of discomforting behavior that she’d struggled to explain. She’d always known there was something ironic about his friendly mercantile persona, and appreciated his genuine nature whenever it showed. Having worked retail herself in the previous world, she could never blame Volo for avoiding his job at the Ginkgo Guild, exploring ruins and attaching himself to her adventures instead. With time she had come to genuinely enjoy his company, smiling despite herself whenever he emerged to congratulate her for quelling yet another frenzied noble. And after her banishment, when he’d been the only person to truly care for her, she hadn’t hesitated to accept his comfort.

She didn’t know what exactly to call their relationship now, in the wake of her victory against Palkia and Dialga. By all intents and purposes, it felt like they were a partnership—officially as seekers of the plates of Arceus, but also as friends. He was the closest companion she had found in this world, and she’d grown to trust him near-implicitly. Volo had put himself at risk on her behalf far too many times for her to doubt his intentions now.

But, still. He was being weird. His lecture about Giratina had been pretty normal (for Volo), but the deranged laughter interrupting it? Definitely harder to explain—even for the champion, who usually delighted in Volo’s bizarre behaviors.

Of course, part of that was due to Volo himself, who was easily one of the most attractive people she had ever met. If someone else did half of the weird shit he did, she was pretty sure she’d find it annoying or even creepy. But with Volo, it was endearing. Not just because he was beautiful, or because he had a pleasant voice, or because he held himself with exceptional confidence. She was endeared because he was brilliant, and passionate about his interests, and clever in his humor, and so very sweet towards his pokémon. And he was hot.

She sometimes wondered if he felt the same way about her. But he was so focused on his studies, on the plates of Arceus, that she assumed that any kind of latent attraction would not be made a priority. Occasionally she felt the urge to just straight-up ask ‘what are we?’, but that seemed far too modern an approach. And besides, did she even want her relationship with Volo to be physical, or even explicitly romantic, outside the realm of fantasy?

She didn’t know if she could stand to lose his friendship. Volo, more than anyone else in Hisui, felt real. He was more than a sycophant, a worshiper, someone who idolized her unquestioningly for her gifts. He’d praised her successes, of course, but she’d never been ignorant to the double meanings in his words, the slight contempt of someone who wished for a life they could not have. A life she did have, thanks to the Almighty Arceus plucking her from her original time and place.

From others, praise felt shallow and meaningless. She’d saved them from misfortune, and they’d thanked her because they could continue living as they always had. But from the lonely and mysterious Volo, praise felt meaningful and true. Through his resentment he saw the many facets of her—she was not a flawless hero—and as a result, hadn’t rejected her when she appeared to have failed. He hadn’t abandoned her after she’d saved the region, either, once she’d served her great purpose. And while he was absolutely using her to find the plates, she knew that she was using him too. And that, somehow, was a greater comfort than any other connection she’d forged in this unfamiliar world.

Of course, things weren’t entirely cynical between them. Volo had shown the champion genuine moments of support, even when it had served him no purpose to do so. He’d comforted her during her banishment, blaming the people of Jubilife for their cruelty rather than telling her what she could have done differently to appease them. He had never once encouraged her to apologize. He’d given her a safe haven with Cogita and dedicated himself to assisting her with the Red Chain. All the while, he’d shown no shame about his continued association with the traitor who supposedly doomed them all.

Arceus, meanwhile, had transported its champion to Hisui with only a smartphone as a tether, offering little support beyond a mission and a vague promise upon its completion. At least when Volo was negging her, he did it to her face. With effort. While being hot about it. When he’d asked the champion for her help with the plates, taking her away from the village so they could travel the world together, it had been a no-brainer to say yes. She didn’t even really know what the plates did—just that Volo cared about finding them, and so she did too.

But, still. Something felt wrong. Something had felt wrong, ever since their last conversation with Cogita. Volo was lying to her, and after everything they’d been through she had no idea why he would. She already knew that he was more misanthropic than he acted and negligent in his merchant duties, which were the things he seemed most invested in concealing. He obviously had secrets—she knew very little of his past, for example—but those missing truths had never threatened the dynamic they’d created together. This truth, whatever it was, just felt wrong. She would not be able to proceed until it was revealed.

The champion took a deep breath, more nervous about this confrontation than any that had come before, and entered the temple ruins.

NOW

The challenger returned to Mount Coronet for what would surely be their final attempt at victory.

They only knew what Arceus had told them: they’d returned countless times throughout their life to battle the Champion of Hisui, and each time they had lost. Lost the battle and their memory, returning to the wilds to train the pokémon they wielded. They knew that they were nearing the end of their life, and soon enough would not be able to ascend Mount Coronet at all—yet the voice of Arceus still urged them forwards, and so they climbed.

They understood now that the Champion of Hisui was a faithless traitor, who they would need to defeat in order to earn an audience with the detested false Lord. In their younger years Arceus had not provided this information, simply requesting that she be dispatched. After several losses, though, Arceus had eventually disclosed the entire truth. Ever since that disclosure, the challenger’s mood approaching Spear Pillar was always the same: overwhelming anger towards the fallen hero who had enabled the old world’s destruction.

The challenger reached the temple again.

“Welcome back,” greeted the Champion of Hisui, motioning to a bench at the edge of Spear Pillar. “Please, take a seat.”

BEFORE

She thought it was rather dramatic, the way he stood at the edge of the ruins. The sky around them was vast and pink, dotted by Hisui’s seemingly eternal clouds as the sun slowly set. Volo did not face the champion and the feeling of wrongness only increased.

“The temple lies in ruins now,” said Volo, still refusing to turn around. His voice was light, distant, a kind of detached calm that she had rarely heard from the passionate researcher. “Columns cracked and broken... like pillars now turned into spears, stabbing into the heavens.”

The champion raised an eyebrow, stopping just before the stairs leading up to the viewing platform. But she said nothing.

Volo turned around then, wearing his winning merchant’s smile. “Well,” he sighed, “I detect a distinct lack of Giratina.”

The champion couldn’t help but smirk at that. It had always amused her, the way he acted like life was a comedy of errors and they had no choice but to play along. The way he’d spoken in the Celestica Ruins had been different, though—he’d been dead-serious about his own suffering and the suffering of others, deranged laughter aside.

And here was that humor again. It should have been a comforting return to form. But this time, the champion could not shake the chilling feeling that Volo was in on the joke.

“Hm?” he asked, resting his chin on his hand. His tone was unmistakably condescending. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in months, not since they’d grown to understand each other as more than merchant and hero. “Is something bothering you?”

The champion nodded stiffly. For all of her trust and confidence in their friendship, she couldn’t help but wonder—

“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” said Volo, having traded his smile for a chillingly neutral expression. “I suppose I must seem to be behaving strangely!”

He didn’t sound like himself. He put a hand on his hip.

“I daresay you deserve to know what I’m really after by now,” he told the champion, and her heart sunk.

She found herself stepping backwards, filled with incomprehensible dread. It didn’t matter what it was, it only mattered that she hadn’t possessed the sense to avoid this situation altogether. And now she had no choice but to accept that she was wrong about the only person in this world who’d ever felt right.

Volo chuckled darkly, his one visible eye noticeably changed. He looked… manic, was the only word for it. She’d seen hints of this before, but had chalked it up to passion. It had even been sweet, in small doses. But this was concerning. She wanted to reach out to him, and she wanted to leave this place before she learned exactly how foolish she had been.

The conflict left her rooted where she stood. The conflict, and the fear.

He seemed to sense that fear, his expression shifting back to an easy smile. He spoke clearly, thoughtfully, just as he had during countless discussions of history and ruins and oh, Arceus, this man might actually be insane.

“Ever since I became convinced that Arceus really does exist,” said Volo, “there has been one question that consumed my thoughts: How can I meet such a being myself?”

The champion struggled to understand the implications of his words. All things considered, that was a perfectly normal Volo thing to say, so why did everything feel so—

"It was in an attempt to answer this question that I originally sought out Giratina and had it tear open that rift in space and time,” Volo told the champion. “After all, Giratina wished to stand against Arceus.”

She blinked.

He…

He’d brought her here.

She was here, because of him.

And when she’d been banished…

“But that didn't do the trick,” Volo continued, still smiling. “So then I had you gather the fragments of the all-encompassing deity, just as the murals of the ruins directed.”

He had her.

He’d had her.

Volo closed his eyes and lifted his head to the heavens, eerily peaceful in his confession. “Eighteen plates said to be the fragments of the all-encompassing deity. You hold in your hands seventeen of them. So, you must be wondering: Where is the last one?“

He opened his eyes and removed something from his apron. A purple plate, shaped exactly like the others. “Why, it’s right here!”

That was not a customer service smile, it was a smirk. She’d seen it last when he’d playfully challenged her to battle, but nothing was playful about this challenge.

The champion stood, slack-jawed, as Volo reached for the shoulder of his Ginkgo Guild uniform. In one smooth motion he removed the jumpsuit and his hat, revealing…

Oh, he was definitely insane.

"Now hand over the plates you gathered!” Volo commanded, dressed in the most bizarre outfit the champion had ever seen in her life. He wore a chiton-shirt with a cold shoulder, a pendant with a teardrop-shaped stone, gladiator sandals, and green capri pants. Had he assembled this look in the dark?

And the hair. He had done something with his hair. His beautiful hair that the champion had always longed to see at its full length, gelled up in a deranged imitation of God itself.

It was too much. All of this was too much.

Volo’s gaze burned into her, his visible pupil having grown noticeably smaller. “I will be the one to bring them all together!"

The champion gripped the strap of her satchel. How dare he make commands, when he was the reason Arceus had brought her here? He should be begging for her forgiveness!

Volo was ranting now, seemingly to himself more than the person he’d just betrayed. "My desire to meet Arceus cannot be contained any longer! I need to know what it is! I must know what it is!"

When the champion was banished for Volo’s actions, he had comforted her. He had cared for her. Why would he have done that? Why would he have done any of this?

He stopped smiling. He spoke to her now, although part of her wished he wouldn’t. "If I can meet Arceus myself, then I may also be able to subjugate its power. And using that, I will attempt to create a new, better world!"

His words at the Celestica Ruins echoed through the champion’s head:

Ever since I was young, whenever I met with something painful or heartbreaking, I couldn't help but wonder why life was so unfair. Why I was cursed to live through such things. Of course, I imagine we all go through something like that.

The champion was pretty sure she was currently going through something like that.

“Of course,” Volo continued, “if I create a brand-new world, then the Hisui region that we currently exist in will be undone and returned to nothing. You, everyone you know, and all the Pokémon living here will vanish in an instant, as if you'd never been."

He’d brought her to this world, and now he wanted to destroy it.

Destroy her.

The champion wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound at Volo’s chest and demand that he admit that their connection was real, that she wasn’t a fool, that he regretted what he’d done to put her in harm’s way. She wanted him to be cured of this divine madness and come to his senses. She wanted him to be the person she’d grown to love—because of course she’d grown to love him, of all the people in this stupid world, instead of someone normal and unremarkable and disinterested in becoming a god.

Because that was what Volo wanted, right? To become a god? To subjugate God, and take its place?

And then he would destroy everything. This entire reality, gone. The people and pokémon within it, gone. Her, gone.

Did he really care for her so little, that he would erase her along with the rest of them?

And how deranged was she, to be more upset by the loss of his friendship than the loss of everything and everyone else?

Volo crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the champion as if he saw right through her. As if she wasn’t a person at all, but an obstacle in his way. The final barrier between him and Arceus, between his destiny and desires, in which she would have no part to play.

She would have given him the damn plates, if he had just apologized and explained. After all, it had been Arceus—not Volo—to bring her to this godforsaken place.

"If you want to keep this world from disappearing,” challenged Volo, “then face me in battle!”

She would not be giving him the plates. He didn’t deserve them, didn’t deserve to be God any more than God itself deserved to be God. Arceus and Volo—a deity and its unfashionable imitation. Honestly, in that moment, the champion despised them both.

“Not that you have a choice,” Volo taunted, grinning widely because he was insane. “Even if you don't wish to battle me, I'm not above using force to take those plates from you."

He held up a pokéball and stared down at the champion. With the slightest of nods, she removed her samurott from her satchel.

She had Arceus’s blessing and Volo clearly did not. She was going to defeat him, just as she’d defeated every other enemy in her path. Only once she’d sufficiently humiliated him in front of his god would she allow herself to process everything she’d learned.

Volo tossed out his first pokémon with a knowing smirk, his form surprisingly confident and precise. For all of his intellectual strengths, the champion had never known him to be a particularly skilled trainer.

A spiritomb emerged from his pokéball.

Clearly there were many things the champion did not know about Volo.

NOW

“Please,” the Champion repeated, motioning to the bench beneath the heavens. “I really think you should sit down.”

The challenger scowled at her, crossing their arms over their chest. “You know why I’m here.”

She rolled her eyes. The outsider had no memory of meeting her before, but her behaviors felt familiar all the same. “Yes,” the Champion sighed, “I know that you’re here to fight me.”

“And then Lord Volo.”

She smirked at that. “Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

Her attitude enraged the challenger. A wicked traitor to the god that had chosen her—unfathomable, really, in her irreverence.

“Seriously,” said the Champion, looking the challenger up and down. “Sit down.”

“Why?” the challenger said, suspecting a trap.

“You look exhausted from your climb.”

She was uncomfortably earnest in her explanation. And she was correct.

“How old are you now, anyway?” the Champion asked as the challenger sat. To their surprise, she sat down beside them immediately.

“Old enough to finally defeat you,” said the challenger, avoiding her searching gaze.

She chuckled. “Fair enough.” And then, thoughtfully: “It’s been quite some time since we last met. I was beginning to wonder if Arceus had decided against sending a senior citizen in its stead.”

The challenger, naturally, took offense at the insult. “How old are you, then? I assume that your lack of humanity implies a lack of mortality as well.”

She nodded with a face that appeared far too young for the person wearing it. “I do not age conventionally, that is true.”

“Can you die at all?”

“Not by natural means,” the Champion said. “Although I suppose I am still flesh and blood, just like you. But you are old and frail, while my youth has been preserved. Your remaining time in this world is incredibly limited, and yet you’ve come here again—do you not have other things to do? Interests, passions? Family? Does your entire life revolve around your mission from God?”

“Does your life not revolve around your Lord?” the challenger deflected. “According to Arceus, you chose him over the entire world.”

“In a manner of speaking, I did,” admitted the Champion. “Though I don’t expect Arceus to ever fully understand my decision.”

“Decision? You lost.”

Something flashed behind the Champion’s eyes. It felt good to drag her down from the heavens.

“It was once said,” she told the challenger through gritted teeth, “that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results.”

It was an odd response. The challenger did not care to understand its purpose. They were indeed old and frail, and this was their final chance.

“Today,” they told the Champion, “I will win.”

“Very well,” the Champion said, withdrawing an ancient-looking pokéball from her fine silks. She stood up and offered her challenger a hand. They glared at it. The Champion sighed, withdrew her hand, and watched as the challenger struggled to their feet.

BEFORE

Her final pokémon was on low health when she finally defeated Volo’s Togekiss. She had refused to speak a word during the fight, despite his taunting smiles and various confident poses. In addition to being insane, Volo was apparently also an incredibly skilled trainer. Not quite as skilled as the champion, though, as his final and most beloved pokémon returned to her ball.

Volo shook his head, still wearing that deranged smile, as he returned the pokéball to some unseen pocket in his ridiculous Arceus outfit. The champion sighed with relief, grateful that this would be over soon. He’d abandon the temple in defeat, and she would mourn his betrayal in peace. Short of physically attacking her, he had no other way to take the plates by force—and she still could not believe that Volo was capable of such brutality, when his entire goal was to create a better, fairer world.

(Honestly, if he hadn’t hurt her so profoundly in the process of achieving that goal, she thought she might admire him for his idealism.)

She shook her head. He was a hypocrite and out of his right mind. The last thing he deserved was admiration, or even an attempt at understanding. She would return to the village and forget all about him, and try her best to find someone else in this world who made sense. Maybe if Arceus saw her success, it would even return her to her world. Defeating Volo had been her ultimate mission, right?

Which…

If Arceus had sent her to correct Volo’s disturbance of the natural order, it had always known about Volo’s hidden intentions. This entire time, it had watched its chosen champion find comfort in her destined enemy, without so much as a word of caution.

It must have been intentional, then, for Arceus to keep her in the dark. But why?

“Why?” Volo demanded, now despondent in his defeat. “Why you?! Why do you have the blessing of Arceus?”

She didn’t know. He knew that she didn’t know.

“I’ve devoted myself to Arceus beyond any other!” Volo ranted, seemingly towards the heavens themselves. “I worshiped it as the creator of our entire world! I bent all of my passion and interest and study! All the time I’ve spent poring over the legends.. Everything that I’ve done—!”

The champion had served Arceus’s mission dutifully since her arrival in Hisui. Although reluctant at times, she had quelled the nobles and assembled the Red Chain. She had immediately opposed Volo, who sought to destroy the world Arceus created. This mission was her entire life—her job, her hobby, her singular purpose upon being transported to Hisui without her consent.

“You outsider!” Volo hissed, now glaring directly at the champion. “It’s almost as if you were spat out of the space-time rift just to get in my way!”

She felt a lump rise in her throat.

Volo had been the one thing, here, that she’d chosen for herself. To her, their friendship had been disconnected from her holy mission or crushing responsibilities—in fact, it had been a much-needed relief.

But the entire time, he had only viewed her as Arceus’s chosen hero. And he despised her for it.

Silent tears ran down the champion’s cheeks. He seemed not to notice, or not to care.

“No,” Volo told himself, “no, this isn’t finished yet.”

Please, she almost begged, but didn’t. She didn’t know how much more of this she could stand. But she couldn’t leave, either, not when he still posed a threat, not when she deserved answers but couldn’t yet bring herself to ask—

Volo grinned again, his derangement reaching its apparent peak. “Can’t you feel it? The chill creeping through your veins—the eldritch presence icing your heart?”

She felt something, as dark shadows began to appear behind Volo. A massive void, from which a large creature began to emerge. It screeched as Volo began to laugh, its wings unfolding and its body taking material form. The champion recognized Giratina at once, well-primed by Volo’s lecture in the Celestica Ruins.

Volo regarded her in the throes of his mania, unwilling and unable to recognize her as anything but his enemy. Perhaps that was too charitable an interpretation, but—

“GIRATINA!” Volo shouted, clenching his hands as if they already held the plates of Arceus. “STRIKE HER DOWN!”

He laughed again, his eyes wide and his body hunched, as Giratina roared.

The champion released her final available pokémon, which only possessed a quarter of its health. She then turned on her heel, summoned Wyrdeer, and headed for the temple exit, using the ill-fated battle as a brief distraction. She ignored the sound of her fainting pokémon and Volo’s confused yelling as she pulled her Arcphone from her satchel and held it to her ear.

“You have to stop him,” the champion demanded as she entered the passageway beneath the peak of Mount Coronet. The cave was cool and blessedly quiet, and she only stopped moving when she received her response.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

NOW

As always, the challenger had put up a very good fight.

“Will this be the last time I see you?” the Champion asked, almost bored in her victory. The challenger just glared at her, returning their fainted pokémon to their pocket.

“One can hope,” they said, and revealed their knife. If repetition with the expectation of different result was insanity, then they were no longer insane. Because this approach, this last-ditch effort, was entirely unprecedented—even to Arceus itself.

Using their last reserves of energy and strength, the challenger seized the woman. Short of stature and physically softened by ages of casual godhood, she could show little resistance to even the oldest of heroes. And, of course, there was the matter of the blade held to her throat.

“He will lower himself from the heavens and face me,” the challenger said between gritted teeth. The Champion swallowed.

“Arceus has driven you to this,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Lord Volo has driven me to this. Arceus has only ever encouraged me to be better.”

“Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.”

The challenger’s eyed widened. “How do you…?”

The Champion sighed. “I heard it too. Every single time.” She was infuriatingly unfazed by the threat to her life. “How relieving it must be,” she said, “to lose the memory of each of your losses.”

“I find it rather inconvenient, actually,” shot back the challenger, holding the blade closer to her throat.

The Champion smiled sadly and shook her head.

BEFORE

Eventually, she found herself trying to lose.

The fight with Volo had become like second nature to the champion, who since her first attempt had assembled the ideal team to counter his specific pokémon and fighting habits. Arceus knew she had been given enough attempts to observe him, some of which ended before Giratina even appeared. Volo was undeniably skilled, and dedicated to his own victory in a way that consistently astounded the champion. But while each new battle seemed to be Volo’s first, his memory struck of previous victories and defeats, the champion remembered everything.

At this point, she knew Volo almost entirely as the man she’d truly met atop Mount Coronet. Memories of their previous friendship lingered in small instances, but she had lost much of her attachment to his formerly comforting presence. This made it easier for her, as Arceus’s champion, to study and practice and try again and again and again.

She was confident, now, that she could defeat him. Him and Giratina, and then she would finally witness the world after such events transpired. Would he give up immediately, or try to harm her further? Would they finally speak as their true selves, or would he just disappear? If he did disappear, would he be gone forever?

The champion was still far from completing the the Pokédex and meeting Arceus, who only potentially could send her home. In the meantime, she would still be stuck in Hisui, alone. Almost certainly without him.

The outfit was not… irredeemably ill-conceived. With some modifications, she could understand the vision. And it would be easy for Volo to take down the Arceus style, allowing his hair to flow naturally. When the champion watched him during their battles, she often tried to imagine him in a different state of mind. She analyzed what she understood of his plans, was reluctantly impressed by his enduring commitment to his own aspirations. She got the best impression she could of the real Volo, a friend and a stranger and her only companion in this endless cycle of failure.

She never spoke to him. The idea of conversation felt wrong, as if disturbing a scripted play or painting over a work of art. And besides, even if she managed to change the narrative through speech, her inevitable failure would render the results meaningless. She would, always, try again. Until she won, she would try again.

As she approach the Temple of Sinnoh once again, the champion thought that she might be going insane. It made no sense, that she had not yet used her knowledge and practice to end this cycle. But every time she had the chance, she just… couldn’t. She would lose, retreat to the cave, call Arceus, and receive the same answer each time.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

There had been a few close calls, where she’d almost won. Especially against Giratina, she often stood a very good chance. But then she would remind herself that this was not fair in the slightest, because she had been given infinite chances to practice and strategize. Yes, Volo had technically cheated as well, but abusing Arceus’s blessing in such a manner simply felt cheap.

That was what she told herself. Eventually, someday, she would see an opportunity for victory that she could truly call fair, and she would take it. But until then, she would just have to lose.

And he would still be here. Insane, but here.

Insane.

She was going insane.

“I think I’m going insane,” she told Arceus after yet another loss.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“I know I’m going insane.”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“Why don’t you try, for once?” the champion challenged, gripping the phone tightly.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

And then, she thought it. For the first time in what felt like an eternity of repetition, she finally thought something new:

“Why can’t I lose?” the champion asked, her voice shaking as tears ran down her cheeks. She did not understand what she was asking, exactly—she could not lose because Arceus had blessed her, that much was already obvious. The world, this world, worked in her favor in some unearned and unwanted way. Yes, she could retreat from the mountain at any time to train her team, but that still left Volo up in the temple. He would not follow her, would not attempt to seize the plates by any other means, seemingly frozen in time and place by divine circumstance. She would never have her former friend back, and if she moved forward, Arceus would never allow her to befriend him as he was now.

And she—

She would just keep going, in Volo’s absence. If not this battle, she would be fighting another. Again and again and again, until Arceus deemed her worthy. Arceus, who had lied to her, manipulated her, taken her from her home without her knowledge or consent. Who had created this world and its mysterious mechanics, blessing—no, cursing—her to endure.

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

God’s champion hung up the phone.

NOW

Much to the challenger’s surprise, Lord Volo had not immediately arrived to save his Champion.

“He can see this, right?” they demanded, as their arms grew increasingly tired around her.

She scoffed. “Of course he can.”

“So why isn’t he coming? Perhaps he cares less for you than you believed.”

The Champion met the challenger’s gaze. “He knows that you would never actually murder me. That is not becoming of the world he designed.”

The challenger narrowed their eyes. This had always been a possibility. “Fine,” they said. “But would your Lord stand by while you are in pain?”

For the first time, the Champion looked afraid. “I—”

The challenger plunged their knife into her fine white silks.

BEFORE

The champion surrendered.

It was not a victory, nor was it any sort of defeat she had experienced before. Instead of intentionally losing the fight, she had refused to even allow its commencement. She had approached Volo where he stood, suspended in space and time, and offered him her satchel containing the plates of Arceus.

He stared at it, pupils shrunken and hungry. A smile crept onto his face. “How precious,” he said, almost tenderly. “You only needed a moment to think, before deciding to see things my way.”

The champion scowled. To him, it had been only a moment.

“You’re insane,” she said, showing no resistance when he began to take the satchel from her. He paused, though, upon hearing her first words towards his true self.

“Did you not listen in the ruins?” he asked, slight irritability piercing through his mania. “My reasoning is entirely rational. If God did not want to run the risk of its power falling into our hands, it should not have created its plates on our mortal plane. It is my right to seize them, and use that power to create a better world.”

“You could make this world a better place.”

Volo shook his head, smiling sadly. “Can’t be done. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

“You made it better for me.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them. She was so, so tired.

Volo narrowed his eyes, pupils still tiny but slightly more focused. “Whatever could you mean by that, hero?”

“You know my name,” said the champion, cursing her voice for cracking at the last word.

Volo looked properly confused, now. Especially as the champion began to shake. “What are you—”

“Just take it,” the champion said, feeling that lump in her throat again. She had felt so strong, when she’d hung up the ArcPhone in the cave. Self-assured, energized by the notion of ending this vicious cycle. It had seemed, if only for a moment, that she had found a way to truly win.

This did not feel like winning.

“Just fucking take it,” the champion repeated, shoving the satchel towards Volo. He did without further comment, but did not immediately dig inside. He only watched her, still far from sane but seemingly calmer at least.

Volo furrowed his brow. “You said I made the world better, for you. But I was using you. I am the reason for your existence here. You should hate me.”

The champion shook her head as a tear ran down her cheek. “I don’t hate you.”

“Don’t be foolish.”

She winced.

Volo studied her carefully. “What,” he said, “do you think your god would say of this?”

The champion shut her eyes. “Arceus doesn’t care about me.”

“Of course it does. It has chosen you to receive its blessings. It loves you, as it will never love—” Volo cut himself off, though of course she understood how the sentence would have ended.

The champion felt pathetic as she met his eyes. “I love you.”

He blinked. “How?”

“I just do.”

Volo began to pace, shifting into a paranoid state. “A trick from Arceus,” he muttered to himself, clutching the satchel close to his chest. “A test? No, a safeguard—a temptation…”

A temptation?

“This is all by design,” Volo continued to ramble, “If I allow for this endearment, for this enduring desire—”

Enduring desire?

“I must be strong. There must be a better world. I must not allow myself to—”

“Was any of it real?” the champion asked, point-blank.

“Yes,” Volo said at once.

“Which parts were fake?”

“The parts that mattered.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to understand. Volo sighed.

“The parts vital to my mission,” he clarified, “were false. The merchant charade, the search for the plates.”

“And that’s what mattered?”

Volo avoided her eyes. “Nothing else can matter in this world,” he told the champion. “Nothing else will remain.”

He looked haggard, as if this was a truth he’d refused to admit to himself before having it forced from his lips.

“It has never been my intention to carry over unwilling parties,” Volo reluctantly explained. “Involuntary acquiescence has no place in my better world.”

“What about lying and manipulation?” the champion asked. “And erasing everyone and everything that came before it?”

Exhausted, Volo gave his response: “I said ‘better.’ Not perfect.”

After a moment, the champion replied. “It mattered,” she said quietly. “To me.”

“Your mission?”

“Us.”

Volo regarded her as if for the very first time. “Us.”

She stepped forward slightly, reaching for his hand. He allowed her to take it, using the other to clutch her satchel.

“Do you want them to remain, in your new world?” the champion asked, looking into Volo’s wide exposed eye. “The parts that were real?”

He gave the slightest of nods.

She could not have him in this world. She could either continue this endless loop of suffering, or defeat him and likely never see him again. And it wasn’t just Volo who mattered, but the champion herself—with Arceus as her god, she knew that she would never truly be free.

“Is this the right decision?” she asked Volo, squeezing his hand tightly. He gently leaned down to place her satchel on the temple floor, then used his other hand to stroke her face.

“Must there always be a right decision and a wrong decision?”

“I should be ashamed.”

“I disagree.”

“What if I’m insane?”

“I would say that you are just as sane as I am,” Volo reasoned, “if you wish to remain by my side.”

The champion frowned. “That is not a reassuring statement.”

“It is all I can offer,” Volo said, holding her hand to his heart. Then, with a small smile: “That, and—”

He kissed her on the lips. When he pulled back, his eyes were almost back to normal.

“So?” Volo asked, eager and curious just as the champion had remembered him. Her heart ached with the comfort of familiarity—lost in the cycle of repetition, she hadn’t even realized how much she missed her former friend.

“It’s not perfect,” she said, “but it’s better.” She allowed herself to finally relax as Volo held her close.

Keeping one arm around his champion’s waist, Volo leaned down to retrieve the satchel once again. Despite her divine mission, the champion did not intervene.

“Very good,” Volo praised. His voice was warm and earnest, lacking the condescension one would usually associate with such a statement. “Now, rest. You’ve done more than enough already.”

And with that, at least, the champion could wholeheartedly agree.

NOW

Lord Volo appeared at once.

The challenger stepped away from the Champion, their hands shaking as the knife clattered to the temple floor. Violence was a rare occurrence in this world, and murder was almost entirely unheard of—yet here they were, resorting to the former and possibly the latter as a desperate final effort.

“This was my mission,” the challenger prayed to Arceus as a figure descended from a shimmery stairway to the heavens. “Now please, give me strength...”

Thou hast been defeated in battle. Thou shalt try again.

“No, I haven’t! I’ve won—look, he’s coming now!”

Lord Volo was a tall man, appearing much as he’d been depicted in historical records and famous works of art: blonde, pale, draped in white silks resembling those of his champion. He reached the bottom stair and stepped onto the world he had created, barely giving the challenger a glance as he walked right by.

Thou hast been defeated in battle, the voice of Arceus said. Thou shalt try again.

But the challenger was not beaten yet.

They reached for the knife, even as their joints ached. Lord Volo disappeared the weapon with a flick of his wrist. He then took his Champion in his arms and placed her onto the bench, speaking words that the challenger could not hear.

She seemed to be speaking, as well. Alive. Despite everything, the challenger felt relief at that.

There was a sort of peace, in knowing that this was the challenger’s final try. Their pokémon were fainted, their god had seemingly abandoned them, they had compromised their own values out of desperation after a lifetime of repeated failures. Now, Lord Volo would disappear them just as he had the knife.

At least in oblivion, the challenger would finally be able to rest.

The Champion muttered something more to her god, who then turned to face the challenger. He did not look happy, but seemed to be exercising some kind of restraint.

He looked back at the Champion, who nodded. Lord Volo sighed.

“Very well,” he said, and flicked his wrist again. The challenger inhaled sharply, and then they

In the heavens, he saw to her healing.

“I’m sorry,” Volo said for what felt like the millionth time, although it would never truly be enough. He held a hand over his Champion’s wound, glowing gold with healing light. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Champion said, kissing the side of his other hand. The rosiness had begun to return to her skin, her deific attire now clean of the blood that had stained it. “I understood the risks of going down there undisguised.”

“That isn’t supposed to happen, though,” Volo said, trying to mind his temper as he channeled healing towards the Champion’s wound. “Violence and murder, they’re not—not a part of our world.”

“Neither is the voice of Arceus,” the Champion countered. “But even from within its containment, it still finds a way to haunt its champion.”

She glanced pointedly towards the pokéball on Volo’s hip. He had wielded its power to destroy the old world and create this one anew, to grant himself and his partner endless life and a home in the heavens above. He supposed it made sense that if Arceus’s power still existed in this world, its voice could never truly disappear.

“What will happen now?” Volo asked, shifting slightly against the headboard of their bed. “Will there be another challenger?”

“Probably,” said the Champion. “Eventually.”

“But the one who…?

“I think they’re safe. An infant without memory of their past life, reborn free of Arceus’s influence. Of all the people in this world, why would it choose them again?”

Volo frowned, thinking of the recent confrontation. “I wanted to destroy them, for what they did.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” teased the Champion, “to make sure you don’t repeat old patterns.”

He smiled fondly, thinking of the many ways they’d helped each other create this new world from the ashes of its predecessor. Not only was his Champion beautiful, but she was also brilliant—always had been, although he’d been rather slow on the uptake. In Volo’s defense, he’d very much written her off as a loss before her surrender on Mount Coronet. It had been a matter of strategy, to avoid considering her inner life.

“Can I ask you something?” said Volo, watching his Champion with endless interest. She nodded. “What changed your mind, in the cave?”

She looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“On the day that the old world fell, you initially ran away,” Volo recalled. “Disappeared into the passageway for only a moment, then emerged again to hand over the plates. Why?”

The Champion appeared conflicted, which was not the desired outcome of Volo’s questioning. He had his suspicions, based on previous reactions around the subject, that this was not a memory she often wished to revisit.

“I felt defeated,” the Champion said, “so I tried something new.”

Volo couldn’t help but think of the challenger, who his Champion had always seemed to care for despite the annoyance they caused. Even after their unfathomable act of violence, she had insisted that Volo reincarnate them rather than destroy them entirely.

“Something new?” he asked the Champion, as he felt her pain ease beneath his fingertips. “Had there been… something before?”

She nodded.

A chill ran down Volo’s spine. With this revelation, the Champion’s use of her spiritomb's abilities while facing Arceus’s challenger made an entirely new sort of sense.

“You never told me,” he said.

“In a way, I did,” she replied with a soft smile. “When you suggested that we were both insane, I didn’t disagree.”

Still so very cryptic. Volo kissed the Champion’s forehead, vowing to someday learn every secret within it.

“And how do you feel now?” he asked as the stab wound faded entirely from her skin. Good as new.

His Champion regarded him knowingly, lovingly, shamelessly.

“I feel better.”

Chapter Text

The challenger approached the Champion of Hisui atop Mount Coronet. The woman’s back was turned as she stared out at the heavens, draped in white silks and fine jewelry. The challenger knew that this was their first time meeting, but a strange sense of familiarity still hung in the air.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the Champion said.

“I know,” said the challenger.

“Arceus has sent you to defeat me, and then my Lord.”

“Yes.”

The Champion sighed. The challenger could see the slight change in her posture.

“Very well,” she said, slowly reaching into her silks. She revealed an ancient-looking pokéball and turned, her eyes narrowed as she faced her foe—

The Champion’s eyes widened.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she told the challenger. “No, we’re not doing this.”

The challenger reached for their own pokéball. “Of course we’re doing this, it’s my—”

“Just… stop,” she said, holding up her pointer finger. With her other hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You want to meet Lord Volo, right? That’s your mission?”

The challenger nodded.

“Stay there,” said the Champion, who turned back to face the heavens. She clenched the pokéball in her hand so tightly that her knuckles were nearly as white as her attire. “I’ll be right back.”

The challenger furrowed their brow. “You… what?”

“I’ll get him. Stay.”

She quickly ascended the rainbow stairway in the sky, the steps disappearing beneath her feet.

Volo’s Champion looked outraged.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up straight on his throne. He had previously been working on some plans for a new region, balancing the ecology for optimum co-existence of flora and fauna, but quickly redirected his attention at the sight of his Champion’s face.

“Come with me,” she commanded, and so he did.

A few minutes later, the Champion returned. With her was the God of Hisui himself.

He looked much as he did in artistic depictions, the challenger reflected, as the tall man examined them from a few feet away. His confused expression, however, seemed unbefitting for a deity.

“I thought there would be a challenger,” Lord Volo said, tilting his head.

Both Champion and challenger scowled. Lord Volo looked from one to the other and then blinked.

“That is a child,” he informed his Champion, who put her head in her hands.

“So what?!” the challenger demanded, because they did not travel all this way to be denied their destiny. “I can still—”

“Hush,” Lord Volo told them, turning sharply to his Champion. “How did this happen?”

“You reincarnated them,” she muttered into her own hand. “I thought Arceus would choose a capable adult in their place, but—”

“I am capable!” the challenger insisted, their voice rising slightly in pitch. The Champion lowered her hands and met their eyes.

“How old are you?” she asked, cringing in anticipation.

“I just turned eleven.”

“Oh my god.”

The challenger crossed their arms over their chest. “I hope you’re not talking about Arceus.”

“It’s speaking to you?” Lord Volo asked, his voice curious and calm. Despite the challenger’s lack of faith in this false deity, they still felt intimidated by the man wielding the power of a god.

“Arceus gave me my mission when I was ten,” the challenger said, as boldly as they could. “That’s when every kid starts their pokémon adventure.”

“Ah,” Lord Volo said, “but your mission is far more consequential than simply defeating gym leaders and the Elite Four.”

The challenger nodded their determination. “It is my destiny to save the region from evil!”

Lord Volo definitely seemed to be thinking, but did not offer any argument. Instead, he turned to his Champion. “I am unsure how to proceed.”

The Champion looked the challenger up and down. “Are you hungry? You must have been climbing for a while.”

The challenger glared. “I won’t eat anything you serve me.”

“That’s fine,” said the Champion, giving the false Lord a sideways glance. “Wallflower?”

“The restaurant in Jubilife City?” the challenger asked, putting their hands on their hips. “That’s hours away! And you’re not just taking me—”

Lord Volo snapped.

“Welcome to the Wallflower!” greeted the host at the podium, motioning towards the dining room behind them. Roughly half of the restaurant’s booths were occupied by lunchtime patrons, enjoying Hisuian fusion cuisine. “Party of three?”

The Champion now wore casual attire fitting of the city, and Lord Volo… was dressed as a GinkgoMart employee. He adjusted the neck of his polo shirt uncomfortably and the challenger snickered at the sight of him.

“Party of three,” the Champion confirmed, and took three menus from the host.

“Right this way, then.”

The host led the group to a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, away from the majority of the crowd. Naturally, the Champion and Lord Volo sat on one side, while the challenger took the other side alone.

They narrowed their eyes at their kidnappers as the host walked away. Although maybe ‘kidnappers’ was a stretch—couldn’t the challenger just walk away, if they really wanted to?

“I’m leaving,” they decided aloud. “If you won’t fight me, I’ll—”

“This is Arceus,” Lord Volo interrupted, placing an old-fashioned pokéball on the table between them.

The challenger blinked. “What?”

Lord Volo regarded them patiently. “When I subjugated the god of the old world, I contained it within this pokéball so I could wield its power.”

“Then how can I still hear its voice?”

“Its power is in this world, albeit under my control. Therefore, its voice can never be truly silenced.”

The challenger eyed Lord Volo suspiciously. “Why are you telling me this?”

He did not respond, only looking expectantly between the pokéball and the challenger. They reached out a hand and tapped what appeared to be the release mechanism. Nothing happened.

“Only the one who defeats the present wielder of this power may access it,” Lord Volo explained. “At the dawn of this world, I defeated a manifestation of Arceus in its heavenly realm.”

“What about you?” the challenger asked the Champion, scowling. “Arceus told me that you failed to protect it.”

The Champion sighed as if she’d heard the accusation many times before. “And does Arceus speak to you now?”

The challenger’s frown deepened.

“Hello there, friends!” greeted a young woman wearing a server’s uniform. “Is this your first time dining with us?”

The Champion shook her head. The challenger sensed humor but could not understand its origin. “No, it is not.”

“Well, great! So I guess you already know the menu and everything. We do have some specials, though, to celebrate Hisuian History Week at the Galaxy Hall Museum.”

“Do tell,” said Lord Volo, a grin tugging at his lips. The Champion rolled her eyes.

“Well first, we have traditional potato mochi—”

“Yes,” Lord Volo said immediately, now fully smirking at his Champion. “That, please.”

He winced. The challenger was pretty sure that the Champion just kicked God’s shin under the table.

“What about you?” the Champion asked the challenger. “Do you have allergies?”

The challenger tilted their head. “What are allergies?”

“I think we got rid of those,” Lord Volo muttered.

“Oh, right. Well, order anything you want. It’s on us.”

The challenger looked down at the menu, uncertain. “I’ll just… have a cup of water. Please.” They avoided the waitress’s concerned gaze and placed the menu on the booth beside them.

“Okay then! And any drinks for you two?” the waitress asked Lord Volo and his Champion.

“We’ll share a pot of tea,” said the Champion. “Bring three cups, please.”

The waitress nodded and walked away.

“Does she know who you are?” the challenger demanded, looking from Champion to deity.

“Of course not,” said Lord Volo. “Among mortals, we prefer to appear as mortals. Although due respect is still more than welcome.”

That explained his GinkgoMart disguise. Merchantry was one of the most respected trades in Hisui.

“But back to Arceus,” Lord Volo said, motioning towards the pokéball on the table. “Its former Champion allowed me entrance to its realm,” Lord Volo said, “by surrendering its holy artifacts.”

“So you let him win,” the challenger accused the Champion. “That’s even worse than losing!”

“By a certain logic, yes,” said the Champion. “But I ask again—does Arceus speak to you now, as you converse with its enemies?”

The challenger shook their head.

“Arceus fell silent in my most desperate hour,” the Champion said. “To it, there was only one path to success. Until I fell in line, there was simply nothing to say.” She glared down at the pokéball. “I’m sure that this meeting is not a part of Arceus’s grand plan for you, and so it abandons you as well. I watched it do the same in a previous life when you attempted to reach its ends by far less holy means.”

Lord Volo gave his Champion a warning look. “They don’t need to know—”

“Arceus is a parasite,” the Champion told the challenger, her gaze intense as she leaned slightly forward. “There’s a reason I turned against it, and now you’re—”

“Careful, it’s hot!” the waitress said, placing a pot of tea down beside Arceus’s pokéball. The Champion sat back, visibly shaken by her own words. The challenger watched Lord Volo put an arm around her.

“Darling,” he said softly. “Here.”

He poured a cup of tea and slid it in front of the Champion. She scowled.

“We’re in public, don’t call me—”

“Drink.”

The challenger watched, confounded, as she did. Lord Volo looked far from evil as he supported his Champion.

Of course, appearances could always be deceiving.

“You mentioned my previous life,” the challenger told the Champion. She nodded as Lord Volo poured his own cup of tea.

“You’ve challenged me many times before,” said the Champion. “Did Arceus not tell you?”

The challenger shook their head. “I’ve heard its voice as far back as I can remember, but—”

“You were reincarnated at the end of your previous life,” Lord Volo told them. “You attempted to maim my Champion after countless failed attempts to defeat her in battle.”

The challenger frowned. They would not maim their worst enemy. Such violent acts were nearly unheard of in this world. “She looks fine to me,” they deflected instead.

“Because I stopped you,” said Lord Volo. “Came down from the heavens and saw your soul reborn, rather than smiting you entirely.” He looked slightly uncomfortable as he added, “You have my Champion to thank for that.”

“I didn’t think Arceus would choose a child,” said the Champion, avoiding the challenger’s gaze. “I still don’t understand why it did.”

“Well, would you smite me now?” the challenger asked Lord Volo.

His answer was not immediate. He looked at the Champion, and then back at the challenger. Finally, reluctantly, he shook his head. “As you are,” he said, “I would not.”

“Then that’s why Arceus chose me,” said the challenger. “Come on. I’m a kid, and even I could figure that out.”

Lord Volo and his Champion looked horrified. This frustrated the challenger.

“What?” they demanded. “Arceus is my god. Whatever it’s done, I trust its reasoning.” Desperate to be understood, they addressed the Champion directly. “You’d say the same thing about your god, right?”

The Champion ignored the question, her eyes falling on Arceus’s pokéball instead. After a moment of deliberation, she turned to Lord Volo. “It can’t be stopped, can it?”

He shook his head.

The Champion sighed. “Look,” she told the challenger, “I don’t expect you to understand, and I don’t want to tamper with your thoughts. You are only a child, and you deserve to come to understand the world on your own terms.”

The challenger gulped. “But you could, if you wanted to? Tamper with my thoughts?”

“Easily,” said Lord Volo. His Champion elbowed him.

“When we set out to design this world,” she continued, “we wished to minimize suffering and trauma for all. While imperfect, I would confidently say that Lord Volo’s Hisui is an improvement on the Hisui maintained by Arceus.”

“I don’t believe you,” said the challenger.

“Our power is not dependant on your belief,” countered the Champion. “Until the holder of Arceus’s holy plates is rightfully defeated in battle, he will remain God.”

As if to reinforce this point, Lord Volo tucked Arceus’s pokéball back into his pocket.

“But we can still see how you suffer,” said the Champion. “And that is not our wish. You are a child, not a soldier of God. We created this world so people like you can adventure to your heart’s content without caution or burden.”

Lord Volo nodded as he sipped his tea.

“But we cannot simply silence the voice of Arceus,” the Champion told the challenger. “Nor can we sway your belief in its righteousness.”

“Never,” said the challenger. “I’ll try until I win, just as Arceus commands. Nothing else matters.”

“But what of your adventures? Your journey to catch all pokémon? Gyms and games and friends? Family, even?”

“What about them?”

“Don’t they matter too?” asked the Champion. “If you were told, suddenly, that you could focus entirely on those things… that the responsibility of our defeat had been passed to another… how would you feel?”

The challenge frowned. Looked away. Their first thought was one simple word:

Relieved.

For perhaps the first time in their entire life, they hoped that Arceus had not heard them.

The Champion nodded, seemingly content to leave her own question unanswered. “We are not going to fight you,” she told the challenger.

Lord Volo nodded resolutely.

“Yet.”

He turned to his Champion, showing the cracks in his godly composure. “What are you—”

The Champion gazed into the challenger’s eyes now, looking slightly downwards due to their difference in height. “When you have come of age,” she told the challenger, “you may face me in a fair fight. If you lose, I will not erase your memory. You may leave, practice, and try again as you please.”

“And when I win?” the challenger asked, boldly.

“Then you may face the Lord,” the Champion told them, as if the Lord in question was not currently seated in this restaurant booth. “In victory, you may subjugate his power.”

The challenger blinked. “You mean… I can just take Arceus back?”

“Yes.”

“And free it, so it can be God again?”

“Or wield its power yourself.”

The challenger gasped. “I would never!”

“My darling,” said Lord Volo, putting a hand on his Champion’s arm. His voice had a certain edge that the challenger had not heard before. “You are not thinking clearly. I understand that you feel for the child, but I will not surrender—”

“My Lord,” the Champion interrupted, her eyes still fixed on the challenger. “Enough.”

“But you—”

“We will discuss this later.”

Lord Volo scowled, but appeared to comply. The challenger felt more confused by this than anything else she’d seen today.

“You’re a god,” they reminded Lord Volo. “You don’t have to listen to her.”

Her pursed his lips. The challenger looked to the Champion instead.

“How could you possibly challenge him, when he has blessed you as Champion?”

A small smile appeared on her face. “I hope that you someday understand,” she told the challenger. “You still have so much to experience of this world.”

“This world is wrong,” the challenger said. “You took it and you ruined it, and I’ll never—”

The waitress placed a large platter of potato mochi onto the table. “Nice and fresh!” she told the group, as hot steam wafted from the plate. “Our chefs take great pride in their work, it brings them such joy to share it with patrons. I am certain that you’ll find the wait worthwhile.”

The Champion promptly sampled the cuisine. “My compliments to the chefs,” she told the waitress. “Thank you.”

“Enjoy your meal!” the waitress replied, already walking away.

The Champion did not waste time, immediately addressing the subject at hand. “There is no point returning to the Temple of Sinnoh until you are of age,” she told the challenger. “And Arceus should know well by now that I am very stubborn in my convictions. I suspect that its voice will be far less present, for as long as you are unable to complete its mission.”

The challenger’s heart sunk. “It wouldn’t just abandon me like that. I can still train while I’m young, I can still do something.”

The Champion sighed. “What you do with the remainder of your childhood and adolescence is entirely your decision.”

The challenger did not know what to think of that.

“And once you have come of age,” the Champion continued, “you may proceed as you wish.”

“I know what I have to do,” snapped the challenger, instinctively. “I won’t change my mind. I’m not a traitor like you.”

Because the Champion was a traitor—not only to Arceus, but to her own god as well. Although, could Lord Volo truly be considered a god, if he saw his Champion’s defiance as anything but heresy? This was all so strange. The challenger felt tired. And hungry.

“Go on,” the Champion told them, motioning to the platter of fresh potato mochi.

The challenger shook their head.

“Very well,” said the Champion, standing up with grace. “We will allow you to dine in peace.”

Lord Volo did not appear pleased by the outcome of this conversation. He looked to the Champion and then to the challenger, frowning. “I had the best of intentions,” he told them, and there was something behind the sternness. “I did what I had to do.”

“So will I,” the child threatened God.

Lord Volo nodded. His expression was hard, but not hateful. For better or worse, it made the challenger feel seen.

The Champion placed a handful of currency onto the table. “This should be more than sufficient compensation.” She reached into her silks and put something else down. “And, here…”

She lifted her hand, revealing a necklace with a grey teardrop pendant. It was the same necklace she wore herself.

“If you ever have questions in the coming years, this will allow you to contact us directly,” said the Champion. With a small smile, she added, “Or we can simply just meet for lunch.”

Lord Volo’s expression shifted slightly as the challenger studied him. They could not help but notice the thin chain around his neck, tucked beneath the uniform.

“Fine,” the challenger said, taking both the money and necklace in one swipe. “But only to keep that thing away from your stupid worshipers.”

The corner of Lord Volo’s lips quirked. The challenger did not understand this reaction to her blatant disrespect.

“Enjoy the mochi,” the Champion told them, taking Lord Volo’s hand. “The proper reward for a job well done.”

“But I failed,” the challenger said.

The Champion tilted her head. “Is that what you think?”

The challenger opened their mouth to answer, but the pair had already disappeared. They leaned back in the booth, ignored their rumbling stomach, and waited for the voice of Arceus to grace them.

The champion stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the horizon beyond Prelude Beach. A slight breeze ruffled her hair and clothing, but could not sway the heavy pendant on her chest.

“You’re upset with me,” she said at the sound of approaching footsteps. Volo sighed behind her.

“I wish we could have discussed the matter before you made a decision.”

“Nothing would have changed my mind.”

They were strong words, and she stood by them.

“Are you… upset with me?” asked Volo, quietly. “We can discuss what happened, but I just want—”

She reached behind herself and gripped his wrist. Not tightly, but firmly. She hoped that the gesture would reassure them both.

“Have we made the world better?” the champion asked her partner, the man who she had allowed to become God.

“I think so,” he said, coming to stand beside her. “People are free to pursue their passions and duly rewarded for their efforts. Children embark on grand adventures as a rite of passage. Nature is harmonious, optimized for pokémon and humans alike. Suffering is not without reason. It is, instead, the direct result of poor decisions.”

“No allergies,” the champion said, remembering their recent meal with Arceus’s chosen champion.

Volo gave a soft chuckle. “No allergies.”

“But it isn’t perfect,” said the champion. “People still age and die. They must die, for the world to function. For time to pass. Is that not suffering?”

“Our aim was to improve the lives of mortals. The end of life reinforces the value of life itself. Not to mention, it leaves room for younger generations to make the world their own.”

The champion pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What?” Volo asked, facing her fully.

“You’re a hypocrite,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “You know that, right?”

For a moment, she thought he might actually fight back. Exercise his authority, as if she hadn’t cleared his path to godhood in the first place.

But, no. He knew he was a hypocrite.

They both were.

“What would we do?” Volo asked, “If the power someday went to them?”

The champion rested her head against his shoulder. “Arceus would not be happy with either of us, I’m sure.”

“And to think I once desired its attention,” Volo muttered. “And the child…”

The champion nodded.

“Their desire is to destroy us,” he said. “And the entire world we created.”

The champion nodded again.

“But they have no right—”

“You thought that you had a right,” said the champion, finally turning to face him. “Remember?”

Volo scowled, undoubtedly recalling his own words at Spear Pillar. “Why delay the inevitable, then? If we know they’re going to seize our power eventually, that we’re going to let them do it, what is there to—”

“We have years,” the champion interrupted, reaching up to touch his face. “Years to continue our work in creating a better world. Years to answer the child’s questions, to witness their journey, to ensure that they feel safe and seen and loved.”

“I see,” Volo said. “Conditioning them to cooperate. When it comes time to choose, they will no longer wish to seize our power, because they will understand that we are good.” He tilted his head. “Rather cynical, but I’m pleased that you were not acting entirely on sentimentality.”

“As opposed to…?”

“Logic, of course.”

The champion looked away, separating herself from her partner.

“What?”

“I don’t want to condition the child,” the champion said, watching the waves as they reached the shore. “That isn’t why I—” She took a deep breath. “Arceus expected my unquestioning loyalty for no reason other than its godly status. It tore me from my life without my consent, obscured vital truths so I would cooperate, demanded my persistence and disregarded my suffering as a result. It had a rigid idea of right and wrong and did not care to discuss my objections or consider other options. And it… it didn’t love me. It left me alone. It ignored me. It had no humor, no personality. It had no humanity at all.”

“I also recall Arceus’s inattention,” said Volo. “It bothered me.” His understatement was obviously intentional.

The champion curled her lip. “Yeah.”

Volo sighed. “Please continue. I want to hear what you think.”

“And that’s exactly why I surrendered the plates,” the champion said. “I chose you over Arceus because you were a person. You had humanity. You listened to what I had to say. Even though you were insane, even though you lied to me, you’d been my friend for an entire year. I cared about your well-being, and hoped that you cared about mine. Maybe I was being stupid, but so were you—so stupid, and so brilliant. So terrible, and so good. Those contradictions made you real. Made you my equal.”

The champion sighed. “Volo, Arceus wanted me to lose you in order to save its world. But I wasn’t willing to give you up. When I surrendered, there was a part of me that thought I could reduce harm by your side. But there was a much larger part of me that simply longed for the comfort of your company. No matter what Arceus told me, I knew that my world was not going to be better without you in it.”

“You’ve never told me these things,” said Volo.

The champion shrugged. “I’ve never felt the need to. We usually understand each other well.”

“There are things about you that I’ve never understood.”

“You’ve always been capable of asking.”

She wondered if, in the past, he simply hadn’t wanted the answers. Hadn’t wanted his image of himself as God to be tarnished by her image of him as a man.

“What I did,” said the champion, “was a human act. It was flawed. Sentimental, logical, neither or both… I don’t know, and I don’t care. I didn’t do it to embody some cosmic idea of righteousness. I did it because certain things mattered to me, and I was not willing to sacrifice them to uphold the rigid agenda of an uncompromising god.”

The champion met Volo’s eyes directly. “Does that sound cynical to you?”

“No,” he said. “It sounds human.”

“You would know,” she replied. “You’re human too.”

“Not anymore.”

She brushed aside his pendant to press a hand to his heart. “Is that what you think?”

Volo kissed her. She felt his heart flutter. When they eventually pulled away, he held her to his chest.

“When they come of age,” Volo muttered, “do you think that they might deem this world worth saving? Seize the power, but keep it from the old god?”

“Maybe.”

“What would happen to us?”

The champion smiled. “We could live as mortals in the better world we’ve created.”

“Live, and die?”

The champion frowned. “Well…”

“Who’s the hypocrite now, darling?”

She knew he was teasing. She released a laugh against his chest. “I didn’t say I was perfect. And besides, we’re different from the people who have never been offered the option in the first place. Even if we… retire from godhood… maybe our immortality can be grandfathered in.”

“That’s a lot to ask of the child who rejects the very existence of the world we’ve created.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to do our best to create a world that is worthy.”

Volo hummed. “Quite the responsibility.”

“Yeah, well. You’re the madman who wanted to be god.”

“And you’re the madwoman who helped.”

The champion rolled her eyes and held her partner closer. “Arceus forbid women do anything.”