For a second, I thought I was dead. A peaceful, dreamless void.
Then I realized dead probably wouldn't feel like my entire body was being put through some kind of cosmic puberty sponsored by a volcano, which was still spewing out pain as if suffering from cum overload and premature ejacuation at the same time.
"DIIIIIIIIII-!"
The sound that ripped from me wasn't a scream; it was the groan of creation itself. Yes, it was still ongoing.
I tried to scream, I really did, but my voice was being forcibly deepened, warped into something massive and guttural. My vision, previously a smear of panic and pavement, became a kaleidoscope of agonizing light as my very being exploded outward. The sensation was indescribable. It was like every cell in my body was a Big Bang, creating mass out of absolutely nothing, stretching and tearing and reforming into something… else.
I felt bones-no, not bones, something harder, more crystalline-being forged and snapped into place by an invisible, cosmic blacksmith. Muscles thicker than ancient redwoods wove themselves out of thin air, bundling around my new frame with agonizing speed. My soft, gooey skin hardened, cooled, and settled into thick, armored plates. And then, with a final, world-shaking shudder, it was over.
I had claws. Big ones.
And wings. Huge, ridiculous, probably-not-aerodynamic wings.
And a tail. A tail that, with a single reflexive twitch, just casually swatted a half-collapsed PokéMart out of existence.
"WHAT THE FUUUU-"
The words were swallowed by a roar that shook the very foundations of the ruined city, a sound that vibrated deep in a chest cavity that hadn't existed thirty seconds ago.
"PALKIA! KIA-KIA!" ("HOLY SHIT, I'M HUGE!")
I was Palkia.
Well, sort of. I was a really shitty bootleg version of him. A quick, disorienting glance down at my new form confirmed it. My body was bulkier, my proportions all wrong, like I'd been sculpted by a drunk artist working from a child's drawing. My magnificent, pearl-encrusted shoulders were lopsided, and I was pretty sure one of my arms was a solid foot longer than the other. I looked less like the God of Space and more like its inbred cousin, Spoce.
But hey, details. I was a goddamn Legendary now. Power, real power, thrummed through me. I felt like I could punch a mountain into dust.
Feeling my oats, I decided to take a step. A confident, powerful, god-like stride.
CRUNCH.
It wasn't the sound of stone or steel. It was… softer. Wetter.
Oh.
Oh no.
I lifted my massive, three-toed foot. There, pressed into the cracked asphalt like a grotesque piece of modern art, was a very flat, very smeary, person-shaped stain.
"PALKIA… Kia?" ("Uh… was that a guy?")
A tiny, distant, rapidly-fading part of my human brain screamed in absolute horror. OH GOD, I JUST KILLED SOMEONE! I'M A MONSTER!
The rest of me, the ninety-nine-point-nine percent that was now fully immersed in the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of being a city-block-sized kaiju, just kind of… processed it. He was in the way. I was walking. Shit happens.
"Palkia-kia..." ("Eh.... I'll burn an incense for you later, buddy.")
It was then that I heard it. A sound that wasn't a sound, but a sudden, jarring silence, as if the universe itself had just hiccuped in confusion and was waiting to see if anyone noticed.
I noticed.
I turned my head-an action that required the slow, deliberate effort of a crane swinging a wrecking ball, because holy shit, neck muscles are weird at this scale-and saw them.
The real Palkia and Dialga.
And they were staring. Not with anger, not yet. But with a look of such profound, cosmic, what-the-fuckery that it was almost comical. They were staring at me like a mathematician who just discovered that two plus two now equaled fish.
Palkia, the real Palkia, was the first to break the silence. Its voice was shockingly high-pitched and whiny, like a spoiled teenager who just found out someone else wore the same multi-million-dollar designer outfit to the apocalypse.
"PALKIA-KIA-KIA?!" ("WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!")
Dialga, meanwhile, looked like it was having a system-wide temporal aneurysm. It stomped a colossal foot, sending shockwaves through the ground.
"DIALGA! RAAAA!" ("FIRST ONE OF YOU, NOW TWO?! THIS TIMELINE IS BROKEN! IT'S UNACCEPTABLE!")
I blinked my new, massive eyes. This was awkward. I figured a little diplomacy couldn't hurt.
"Palkia… kia?" ("Uh… hey, guys? Nice weather we're having for a city-wide demolition derby, huh-")
"PALKIA-KIA-KIA-KIA!" ("DON'T 'NICE WEATHER' ME, YOU FAKE! YOU BLASPHEMOUS IMITATION! THERE'S ONLY ONE ME! ONE! I AM AN ICON! A UNIQUE SPATIAL ENTITY!")
"DIALGA-GA-GA!" ("THIS IS HERESY! A GLITCH IN THE FABRIC OF REALITY! I'M TELLING ARCEUS!")
Okay, so diplomacy was out. I took a cautious step back, trying to give them some space.
CRASH.
Whoops. There went a five-story office building. And, judging by the little popping sounds, uh… several more people who hadn't evacuated.
"Palkia… kia-kia." ("My bad.")
They weren't listening. Their existential shock was rapidly curdling into pure, divine rage.
"PALKIA-KIA!" ("DIE, IMPOSTER!")
"DIALGA-RAAGH!" ("TIME TO ERASE YOU FROM EXISTENCE!")
A shimmering blade of pure space and a vortex of crushing time came flying at me at literally the speed of bullshit. I yelped-a sound that came out like a foghorn getting stepped on-and threw my lopsided body to the side in a clumsy dive.
BOOOOOOM.
The entire city block behind me simply… ceased to exist, replaced by a shimmering, empty void that quickly faded.
"PALKIA-KIA-KIA!" ("OH, FUCK THAT!")
I bolted. Or, I tried to. Running in this body wasn't an act of grace; it was a controlled demolition. It was like trying to pilot a skyscraper made of wet clay during an earthquake. My tail, which I had zero control over, wobbled behind me like an out-of-control wrecking ball, smashing through buildings like they were made of toothpicks. My useless wings flapped awkwardly, kicking up hurricane-force dust devils that tore roofs off nearby structures.
And then-
CRUNCH.
This crunch was different. It was the groan of stressed metal, the shriek of tortured concrete. It wasn't a person. It was much, much bigger.
Oh. Oh no.
I'd stumbled, bumping my lopsided shoulder into one of the two giant, iconic towers that dominated the city's skyline. It shuddered, groaned, and then, with a horrifyingly slow finality, it began to tip over.
I could only watch in a sort of detached horror as the falling tower, in a perfect, domino-like catastrophe, collided with its twin. Both colossal structures came crashing down in a deafening, earth-shattering avalanche of steel, glass, and shattered dreams.
And then, I saw them.
Tiny dots. Falling from the top of the tower just before it collapsed.
"What are those?" I wondered, and some weird Palkia-instinct kicked in. My vision zoomed, focusing with impossible clarity. I could see them perfectly.
A kid in a red cap. A little yellow rat on his shoulder. A girl with blue hair and a very short skirt.
"Palkia… kia?" ("Wait. Is that-?")
SPLAT.
A wet, final, and disappointingly small sound from that distance.
I stared at the spot where the heroes of the story had just become a modern art installation on the pavement.
"…Oopsie?"
The word, a guttural rumble in my new voice, hung in the suddenly silent air.
Dialga and Palkia froze mid-charge.
"PALKIA… Kia?" ("Did… did you just kill the Chosen One?") Palkia whispered, its voice trembling.
"DIALGA… Ga?" ("That was the kid who's supposed to calm us down in, like, five minutes.") Dialga stated, its tone flat with dawning horror.
A long, profoundly awkward silence descended upon the ruins, broken only by the crackle of distant fires.