The wind no longer howled with screams.
It carried birdsong now—gentle, high-pitched, and full of a softness he'd thought long extinct.
He stepped barefoot across warm wooden planks as he exited the villa—his villa—resting atop a serene mountain ridge, where clouds rolled beneath his feet like a tide of dreams. Beyond the carved stone steps lay a world he wasn't sure he deserved.
A garden, 250 acres wide, gifted to him by twelve divine beings... and watched over by wild creatures far gentler than anything he had ever known.
His chest rose slowly with each breath. No smoke. No blood in the air.Only sun-dappled leaves and the scent of ripe fruit.
That's when he heard it—a squeaky whimper. Like a toddler's cry muffled by trembling effort.
He turned.
There, peeking from behind a bush of blooming red flowers, was a tiny Pokémon with oversized ears, stubby feet, and tearful blue eyes.
Azurill.It blinked at him—trembling. Not afraid. Not hostile.
Lost.
Before he could speak, a pale green glow shimmered before his eyes.
[Blessing of Faelwyn, Goddess of Nature – Active]All wild Pokémon recognize you as safe. Your soul emits shelter.Child-class Pokémon will seek your presence for comfort.
His lips parted, stunned. The words vanished before he could say them. Azurill took a few waddling steps forward… then lunged into his arms and buried its face in his chest.
He froze.Then, for the first time in years—slowly—he held something like a child again.
The system chimed again.
[Habitat: The Watcher's Garden]Area: 250 Acres | Type Zones: BalancedWild Pokémon Present: 118 (All Infant-Stage / Baby-Class)Status: HarmonizedTime Ratio: 1 Earth Year = 1 Month HerePsychological Recovery Boost: +3/day
The mountain garden wasn't wild—it was structured. Nestled at the foot of the villa were paths leading to peaceful mini-habitats. A cozy nursery area with berry-filled trees. Hot spring caves padded with moss. Open fields where small groups of Pokémon played tag beneath floating petals.
He stepped down into the grass, Azurill still clinging to his shoulder. It squeaked again—happily now.
In the next moment, the flowers rustled all around him.
Tiny eyes peered out from every corner.
A Togepi, clutching its cracked shell like a blanket.A Pichu, hiding behind a rock, flinching every time its own sparks zapped.Two Igglybuff waddled behind a Budew, as if playing house.A Tyrogue with a scraped knee limped near the berry grove, watching him carefully.
So many small souls.
Alone. Scared. But no longer unloved.
And none of them fled.
Instead, they stepped closer—like toddlers creeping near a warm fireplace.
He sat under the shadow of a wide apricorn tree, arms outstretched like some accidental shepherd. Half a dozen baby Pokémon lay curled around him. One was drooling. Another tried to stick a berry in his mouth.
He didn't stop them.
"Where did you all come from?" he whispered.
There was no answer, only light chirps and sleepy yawns. A warm body nuzzled his ribs. Another climbed onto his lap and promptly fell asleep.
He exhaled. The tension that had been welded into his spine since the war—since the world ended—loosened.
[System Notification – Emotional Regression Normalizing...][PTSD Severity Level: Reduced to Moderate][You are under the care of: Life | Nature | Fortune | Willpower]
For the first time since his planet's death, he wasn't just surviving.
He was living.
He watched from the villa balcony as dozens of baby Pokémon slowly returned to their nest zones, some waddling, some floating, some carried by others. The stars twinkled above, soft and distant.
He leaned on the railing, heart fuller than it had ever been. The emptiness within him had not vanished—but it had found a place to rest.
"I don't know what I did to deserve this…" he murmured.
[You endured what no soul should. Let this be your breath before the next storm.]
He stiffened.
The system's calm voice turned colder. Weighted.
[Pending Mission... Judgment Archive Compiling.]Target Identified: Shou Tucker – State Alchemist (Timeline: FMAB-Standard)Crime: Soul-Flesh Fusion of Human Child with Canine SubjectDirective: Prevent the atrocity. Punish accordingly.Countdown: 7 Days Prior to Event
A soft cry behind him—Azurill, worried by his silence, tugged at his sleeve.
He looked down, offered a weak smile, and gently patted its head.
"…Looks like the gods don't plan to let me just sit here forever."