Chapter 31:Perspective
Roughly eight decades ago…
"I do not understand, Ethan, what good would it do to leave the territory when you have the perfect haven to become a ghost master?" The elder man looked at his only son with apprehension. "You may think that you ran away, but in truth, we allowed to travel all across Kanto to give you a taste of the life outside our haven, so that you might realise the futility of your beliefs. We never anticipated that you would get lost in your own delusions."
Ethan, now nineteen, simply looked away. He was tired of the rigid laws and traditions that his father, Artemis Ainsworth, upheld with great faith. Over the centuries, the House of Ainsworth had produced some of the most powerful and accomplished Ghost Masters in Kanto and the surrounding regions, so much that the name Ainsworth had come to be associated with mastery in ghost types. However, it was also true that the accomplishments dated over several generations, and there seemed to be an acute shortage of such accomplishments over the last three generations.
"I am only trying to stand up to the Ainsworth name, father." He replied, pride filling his voice. "We have stagnated, and we need to change in the coming times. We cannot just pretend that the world is all the same."
"Hah!" The sixtyish man laughed. "If one also changes with the changing world, then how will one know that the times have changed?"
Ethan rolled his eyes. He had left Lavender Town back when he was fourteen, with his Gastly- who had, through training, effort and experience, had evolved into a formidable Haunter. He and Haunter had faced the Draconids of the east, the Blackthorns, the Wataru people, the Caucasians, and the ice-people of the north. He and Haunter had grown in their self-imposed exile from home, learning, experiencing, growing.
And now he was back for more of his family's residents to experience the larger world outside. He had… simply not estimated the true breadth of the situation.
"You ran away, dreamy-eyed like that, stayed out of communication for years, married that little skank from Bavarian cliff-"
"Her name is Emily, and she's my wife. I'd request you not call her that." Ethan growled.
"Ha!" Artemis laughed. "As if some fisherwoman would ever become the lady of our elevated name. Admit it, Ethan… you have made many mistakes, but this is the end of it. I will not allow anyone to muddy the Ainsworth name to suit their foolish fantasies, not even my heir." The man's eyes shone crimson red. "I thought yourself capable of listening to proper advice, but it seems that won't be. I will have to show you the error of your ways, no matter if you want to accept the truth or not."
Almost instantly, something large and powerful gripped Ethan in the behind, as two crimson eyes glowed in the darkness behind him—said creature's powerful claws gripping his shoulders, squeezing them to the point of hurting.
"Caesar." Ethan almost whimpered, as Caesar—his father's Haunter, began to slowly manipulate the ambient ghostly energies that Ethan's body had soaked over the entire time he had lived at the mansion, making the young man whimper in agony. "Father, tell him to stop."
"He will stop, when you realise that I am the head of the Ainsworth name, and that you are duty bound to follow my orders." The man barked. "Caesar, bring him in."
But Ethan had other ideas, like managing to push his elbow into one of the apricorn devices he had managed to acquire from a craft smith in the Canyon, in which pokémon could be stored for short intervals of time, so that they could rest, when injured. Sadly, the devices were quite fragile, despite being handy. So it was no surprise that the apricorn ball fell down from his robes to the ground, shattering into several pieces, as a dense cloud of dust and venomous gases shot out of them, condensing furiously into the form of a Haunter.
"Sylvi", Ethan yelled, letting out another whimper as Caesar's grip tightened, drawing blood. "Defend me."
Sylvi, Ethan's starter who had now evolved into a Haunter, let out a cackle, as her ominous eyes stared at Caesar, as the female ghost stared at her own father after so many moons, before pushing herself with a gust of otherworldly energy, enough to push Caesar away from Ethan, slamming him through the walls, passing through them as if they were simply nothing… much to Artemis's apprehension.
"Sylvi…." The man muttered, "The one born from Caesar's fumes… wasn't it? That fickle little Gastly joined you on your foolish endeavour. How… serendipitous."
"And she has grown out of her father's dominion." Ethan returned, as he spotted Sylvi grabbing Caesar against the floor, trying to suffocate him through Miasma, a technique the Ainsworth's were famous for. Ethan had only developed and refined the technique further to make it much more lethal and devastating. "As have I."
"The little dog has finally learned to growl, I see."
"No. You are simply hearing it for the first time."
Artemis stood in his place. "I suppose I am." His fists clenched. "I will however, not accept any lowborn as part of my family. If you wish to continue with your woman and your foolish endeavours, then you are no longer my kin. Neither that woman, nor your future offspring, shall ever become an Ainsworth, not until I am alive."
Ethan however, was no longer listening, as he pulled out two more apricorn balls out of his robes, the very same ones in which he had captured two Gastly he had found loitering inside his old room, wanting to take them with him on his journey past the mighty ocean.
"In that case, I declare that I captured two Gastly from the Mansion, Lord Ainsworth." He replied formally, raising the apricorn balls, not noticing the surprised glance his father gave him. I need no further aide from my ancestry. I assure you, you will never hear from me… ever again."
He turned towards Sylvi. "Come on, Sylvi."
The Haunter in question, reformed back into her corporeal self, before positioning herself behind his shoulder. Without another word, Ethan and Sylvi walked down the steps of the mansion, much unaware to the look of complete shock in Artemis's eyes.
"…."
"Eth…." Artemis croaked... "Did my son just desert me, Caesar?"
Caesar just stared at the duo walking away from the Ainsworth mansion, his crimson eyes glowing ominously.
Present day.
Caesar's eyes flashed in the darkness, the ominous crimson shining in the eerie setting of the mansion. The day was almost about to end, and the blight was still inside the walls of his master's stronghold. Thousands of moons had passed, but neither Master Artemis's wayward son, nor his own kin Sylvi had ever returned to the ancient home of the Ainsworths.
He remembered how the bastard's child had been brought in by Master Artemis, as a viable replacement for Ethan, after some years of silent sulking. The idea had been to see Ethan suffer as he and Master Artemis walked away with his sole offspring, but the dragon of Time be damned, Ethan wasn't there. Caesar had great fun cursing the woman to stone, as he slowly drank the life force out of her.
And then Master Artemis had taken Ethan's offspring, a female baby named Agatha, and trained her as his heir. Personally, Caesar had been hoping to slowly torture the girl and drink her life force, but humans are sentimental like that, or so he was told.
It was unfortunate that Master Artemis had died of an early death soon after that, which was probably why Agatha, the new mistress of Ainsworth, was more like her bastard father than Master Artemis. Blood is thicker than water after all.
She had chosen her own ghosts, and Caesar, who had once ruled the community residing in the mansion, had become reduced to a fellow inhabitant, loitering around in the vast expanses, alone, powerless and without significance.
And now…
Because of the involvement of another human, Sylvi had finally re-entered the mansion, but unfortunately, history seemed to be repeating itself. Despite whatever sinistrous event had befallen on his Master's son, it seemed Sylvi had learned nothing.
Nothing.
Now once again, she was demonstrating clear cognitive dissonance in her decisions. Once again, she was at cross paths between choosing her own kin, and that damned human whom she had been calling her new master. Of course, Sylvia hadn't yet made an informed choice about her own future abode, but the delay she was making was more than enough to raise suspicion about her wishes… and Caesar didn't know what he would do if his kin decided to betray him once more.
He would not allow another wayward human… just like her master's brat, to sully the dreams and beliefs of his Master Artemis, once again.
The silent Gengar felt the human leave his room to walk outside, as he silently passed into his shadow, leaving the room with him. Thankfully, the already chilly atmosphere of the house prevented his presence from being detected by the human, not that it would help matters for the teen anyway. After all, it was something taught to all scions of Ainsworth.
If you are suddenly attacked by a slight chill, it is the evidence of an approaching Gengar. There is no escaping it.
Give up.
Caesar's eyes glowed a sinister crimson in the darkness.
Ash stood at the edge of the eerily empty corridor, his hands hanging almost aimlessly on either side, as he stood at the precipice of the creaking and rickety wooden staircase. The room where he had been granted residence was at the end of the corridor, some twenty feet away from where he was currently standing. Sure he had walked out, but from a sideward glance, he had indeed checked that Aoi had not been following him behind his back. The last couple of weeks spent in the company of the Ninetales had taught him just how… clandestine and stealthy, the fox could be, when she wanted.
He let out a sigh, as he casually inspected the wooden frame of the top step of the staircase in front of him. The chilly ambience of the mansion was getting to him, and he wondered for a moment if he should just call Aoi to him, for some warmth if nothing else. His thoughts flew around what Cynthia was possibly doing back in Sinnoh- he hadn't really had a chance (or the mindset or inclination) to call her back in the aftermath of the Battle Tower. Then again, she had mentioned about the Elite Four lining up to challenge her for the position of Champion—she would be a mess herself, without him pouring down his own insecurities into the equation.
He calmly pulled out the lone fastball on his person, the only one left out of the ones he had purchased from the Mirage Island departmental store. He had made some discreet inquiries about the maker of these… custom-designed pokeballs, and found about their source being a certain… Kurt Gushiken, a resident of Azalea Town in Johto. It wasn't… too far from the Archipelago where he had met Aoi for the first time, merely an hour's flight at sensible speeds on his Pidgeot. Apparently, the family had been really, really involved in the craft of pokémon-making for several generations now, and were initially, a tribe from the region presently known as Grandpa Canyon, some miles away from Evolution Mountain, the natural boundary between Celadon and Fuchsia city.
Screw dignity. Having a Champion as a girlfriend was too valuable of an opportunity to ignore, especially when he wasn't really doing this to attain any undue advantage. He was simply curious about something that was probably his last link to his father.
The information he had received had been… interesting.
It was no surprise that both pokeballs and trainer backpacks functioned on the same folded-space technology that had made several breakthroughs over the last century, because of geniuses like Professor Oak, helping to keep pokémon in suspended animation when not in use or injured. However, from what he had gotten to know, the devices personally created by Kurt… were slightly different than the standard pokeball, or ultraball technology employed by Silph Co. Instead of keeping the pokémon in suspended animation, they somehow ensured that the pokémon simply stayed in its poke-energy form.
It would be very interesting to a researcher, but to Ash, completely useless. It was the second trivia that he had gotten, that held his attention.
Apparently, rumour was that someone in the Gushiken clan had theorized the makings of a device which could, hypothetically speaking, be able to capture a legendary pokémon, or rather, a specific legendary pokémon, which was believed to be the guardian of the Ilex forest of Johto, and no other.
Ash pressed the release button of the fastball, as the ball's lid lifted up, revealing the contents inside, or in this case, one-half of a metallic sphere, which Ash had placed inside it for safekeeping. It was better than keeping it inside his bag or his pockets, he had a tendency of losing stuff when kept there. No, the fastball was a better and safer alternative, as far as he was concerned. The top-half of the GS Ball was small enough to fit into it anyway.
GS Ball.
A rather odd name, if that had indeed been the name of the ball in the first place. For a time, Ash had pondered if the G and S meant something silly like Gold and Silver considering that the upper half had a golden coloration while the lower half (which Gary had stolen away) had been painted in silver. And then, he had had an epiphany.
The design of the GS Ball was unique, and… crude, at the same time, as if it was less of a pokeball and more of a transition from something far more rudimentary into a better finished product. And who better to start searching from, than an old family that had made pokeball crafting as its formal craft over generations?
The idea was simple. What if… what if it were simply the initials of the man, the craft smith that created the ball in the first place?
G. S.
Ash had searched whatever he could, for an old family name among Kanto and Johto on the League Database- a tiny little perk one got as an honorary associate of the League. The idea had been simple. Find a family associated with pokeball crafting or something associated with it that started with the letter S.
There were none.
Frustrated, Ash had nearly quit expecting any results from that avenue when something… crazy had appealed to him.
It was seeing a single name on the League database.
Gushiken Kurt.
He had almost forgotten about the traditional naming conventions of Kanto—he remembered studying that in his history class back in school. In olden days, the convention was that the family name was written before the name of the individual, since the family came first, and had a greater contribution to the world in general than an individual could possibly have. In case an individual gained fame of a near-superlative degree, the naming system for said individual would be reversed, as a way to demonstrate he or she is, the most eminent person belonging to said family. Samuel Oak, Lance Wataru, Agatha Ainsworth… were all prominent examples of that.
But what if the maker of the mysterious ball wasn't as… eminent as them?
It had taken another deep search into the family genealogy of the Gushiken name, and Ash had found something.
Gushiken Suguru.
The initials fit seamlessly, and yet, it was something in the side notes mentioned to the record that had held Ash's attention.
Research paper on Gushiken Suguru's pokeball theory by Samuel Oak proves the impossible. The Oak-Rothsvale hypothesis under serious consideration.
Ash had never really found anything further than that. Apparently, whatever the entire theory or the hypothesis had been about, it had been rendered classified by the League and non-accessible except to the highest levels of clearance. Also, there had been little to no interesting information about the Rothsvale name, apart from being some old family that died out some decades ago.
Could the G and S be the initials of Gushiken Suguru? He didn't know. Some fanciful thinking had led him to even consider if the GS Ball was actually the theorized pokeball that held the potential to capture some specific legendary pokémon. But then again, if that had been so, why would the Ball rest in a sack inside the store room of Delia Ketchum's house? Wouldn't Professor Oak have had the ball kept inside some sealed glass container as a memento of some sort, if not an active experimental object?
He held the item in his hands. Even in the lack of proper lighting, the lid shined, the engraved G and S slightly visible. Not for the first time, he had the distinct feeling that there was more to the GS Ball, a mystery that entangled him, his father, and Professor Oak, and he promised himself once again that he would solve this mystery someday.
Absent-mindedly, he wiped on the G and S engravings with his thumb, though for some reason, the little circular thing slipped off from his fingers, and fell down on the immediate next step below, twirling on its edges, perfectly balanced.
Odd.
While the mansion blocked most of the sunlight, the trace amounts filtering through the cobwebs from an occasional hole was more than enough for Ash to locate the position of the little broken artefact.
He sighed. The last thing he wanted was to lose one of his most precious things inside a broken and haunted mansion. Without any further thought on the subject, he bent low to pick it up-
Only for the twirling upper half to slowly fall down to the immediate next step.
Almost subconsciously, Ash's entire body was gripped with a nostalgic sensation, reminding him of an eerily similar situation back at the Forest of Illusions. Acting on instinct, he instantly snatched the little lid from the ram shackled staircase as he spun around-
Only to meet, eye to eye, his widened, onyx eyes staring into cruel, crimson ones.
And then the nightmarish creature grinned, giving Ash a mean push on his chest, as the trainer was lifted off his feet, headfirst, towards the floor seventeen steps below, his eyes barely registering the shock of what had happened, before he was already airborne.
Caesar grinned.
Meanwhile in some other portion of the mansion.
Sylvi stared at the Trevenant in front of her, the very same one whose behaviour had ranged from insolence to somewhat congenial to downright stalkerish over the last few moons, something that had greatly displeased the Gengar. As Queen of her forest, Trevenant had been one of her soldiers, protectors of the forest, as well as a form of… ally to her and the other ghosts that normally stayed in the center of the forest- well, not geographically, but the chaotic centre of the forest. The elder tree's disposition towards her trainer after the initial days of his capture was still somewhat understandable, and truth be told, the shift from open animosity to plain indifference was almost progress in Gengar's eyes. However, the sudden shift in Trevenant ever since he had been released to loiter around the mansion was rather… unbecoming, and irritating.
What… do you want? She asked again.
It was… unnecessary. The elder tree had been harping on the same thing over and over and over, almost as if Gengar's own demand for some personal solitude went completely unnoticed by the elder tree ghost. Last she checked, only she and her kin possessed the ability to completely phase through near-almost everything.
Is this how the psi felt when I was being… enthusiastic? Gengar mused.
I am just demanding an answer to my quandary. Why the delay?
The delay? Gengar asked in return.
The delay in sending the human away… He has no place in this haven. We can be finally free of him and those nuisances he keeps with himself.
Gengar was, officially surprised, a rare thing for the ghost-type. Then again, surprise wasn't the exact description that fitted her expression. Had she been more… able of deciphering and differentiating between the nuances of her different emotions and thought-streams, she would perhaps have described herself as slightly confused, and somewhat amused.
Why would… trainer leave? And why would I want to be free of him?
It was almost funny, how both Trevenant and Gengar's expressions shifted almost instantaneously—the latter shifting from confusion to amusement, while the former from assertion to outright confusion and befuddlement.
Surely you want to be free of the human? Why would you choose the human that enslaves us, instead of your own kin?
Sylvi grinned for the first time. Alas, the poor fool. The elder tree had been thinking it wrong, completely, utterly wrong the whole time.
You think that me seeking solitude is my way of showing that I'd be better off staying here? Gengar asked, her tone downright condescending. You have reversed the concept. My solitude is my way of simply remembering everything that happened, and what this place… my first abode, has been like over so many moons. It is my way of ensuring that I know every nook and canny of what has transpired here before I leave… who knows if I will ever return to this place again?
You choose a human's enslavement over your kin? Trevenant's voice was an openly accusing one.
Do not think yourself capable of making decisions for me, tree. I have seen much of the world before I settled as Queen of the forests you protected for a while. I have experienced, seen the world at large, and learned the difference between perfection and stagnation. I will not fall for the same trap again.
It was true. Sylvi had encountered so much of the world, and understood what her master comprehended as stagnation, and why the correct way to grow stronger was to embrace the world, and grow while living in it, instead of hiding away inside a nest of safety. Somehow… the death of her master, the bloodlust fuelled by vengeance, and the duties of taking care of her kin, had made her fall for the same trap her master had taught her to avoid all those years ago. She had created a new abode, filled with ghostly energies, almost like an imitation of the Ainsworth Mansion inside the forest-filled island.
It had taken Ash, another human trainer, and his team, especially that Absol, to break her out of her self-imposed illusion.
That, had been the true reason why she had been so… accepting of her new trainer's words and commands, because they represented something that she had been devoid of, over the better part of the century.
Change. Growth. Development.
And it hadn't been without results. Back in the forest, in an environment where she had held insurmountable advantages against the feline, she had still tasted defeat. If not for Ash and his team, there was no doubt that the entire forest would have been decimated overnight, and every single one of the residents captured by those nefarious catchers. And yet… after several fortnights, she could call herself monumentally head and shoulders tall over her initial skill level, if her recent battles had been of any indication.
No way was she going to desert the possibility of improving herself for the foolish, naïve hope that the mansion represented.
I see you have made your decision.
The pronouncement hadn't been made by an angry Trevenant, but by the subtly rising ash fumes that seemingly condensed to form into the shape of a Gengar, which was, surprisingly… of a pale white color, instead of the usual dark purple coloration.
This was Aithne, Agatha's starter and oldest friend. An exceptionally powerful and on top of that, shiny Gengar.
Sylvi returned her an apprehensive stare. She had made her personal opinion extremely clear to Aithne and her fellow brothers—Anghus and Arawn. The three Gengar's link with Agatha went further than comprehensible, so much that at times, it wasn't clear who was the otherworldly creature, the trainer, or the pokémon. It had made her feel so much envious at first- why even she hadn't had that kind of bond with Ethan back then. Perhaps Ash would….
She considered Aithne again, dropping the thought. Perhaps a reiteration of the statement was in order.
I am a visitor. I will return with my trainer when he leaves the abode.
It is incomprehensible… Trevenant raged. You are a fool. Humans are weak, and are prey for us. It is simply-
The rest of the words remained unsaid. A rather obvious thing really, considering that Trevenant's wooden neck was currently impaled with a large shadow claw. Unlike Sylvi, Aithne wasn't that understanding towards those that spoke ill- or if it be correctly rephrased—even looked at her trainer and master, the wrong way. The fact that this tree, who should have known better than speaking ill of the mistress, while being a host in her own house, was a transgression, she was not going to allow unpunished.
The fact that Trevenant was rendered completely helpless, despite his groans by the single attack, was a testament to Aithne's unspeakable strength, even more so considering that the shiny Gengar wasn't even trying to come off as… formidable.
Aithne grinned, before she turned stiff, and then slowly turned to Sylvi. Your master is in danger.
With that ominous statement, Aithne simply phased down through the floors, pulling a groaning, screaming Trevenant with her.
Sylvi had only a second to comprehend the ominous statement, before she shot across the corridor, sensing her trainer's distress almost immediately.
Contrary to what Ash had believed, Aoi hadn't really agreed to accept Ash's request. It wasn't so much as disobeying an order from her trainer, but more like her innate belief that Ash wouldn't last two minutes unsupervised in such a place without anyone looking out for him. Considering that she was the only living thing around (she had her doubts about how human this Agatha actually was), the responsibility fell on her. And not even the old gods could ever claim that Aoi was someone that shirked from responsibility.
So it was obvious, that moments after Ash left the room, Aoi had cloaked herself with distortion energy, rendering her temporarily invisible to the human eye, before sprinting out.
And just in due time.
She saw her trainer let out a shriek of fright, as he was bodily lifted off his limbs, before thrown off the staircase—one single hit on his head, and the damage would have been almost untreatable, and that didn't count the physical injuries that could result should he fall headfirst over the staircase like that.
In any other scenario, a simple psychic-move would have been enough to stop the fall. However, they were inside a mansion deeply rooted in chaotic energy, surrounding by ghosts almost everywhere. The chances of her pulling off an actual psychic move successfully were dim at best.
And she couldn't afford to dawdle.
Her eyes glowed bright crimson, as the endings of her nine tails began glowing bright vermillion, Aoi concentrated on a single command.
Stop.
And stop he did. There was no psychic energy outlining his body, no energy supporting him from falling. Ash felt like he was encountering free-fall—free from any form of forces, gravity or otherwise. He had just… stopped.
Caesar let out an angry growl, at his prey being swept away from his own claws. It was… unacceptable. He glared at the Ninetales, before raising his claws, both brimming with ghostly energies, ready to slice her slim throat with one single strike. He would show the lithe feline what happened when one interrupted one's betters. With one single growl, he literally teleported to her, his claws bared in rage.
"GAAH!"
Aoi whimpered in pain as she raised one of her tails forward to intercept the attack, feeling the influx of otherworldly energy seeping into her veins, causing her to whine in agony as the chaotic energies reacted adversely with her own blood. Ignoring the pain, she focussed on stopping her trainer's descent, landing him safely on the ground.
The problem was, it was a little too late, and the wrathful Gengar wasn't in the mood to cooperate.
The other claw had pierced into one of her other tails, tearing through tissue, as Aoi let out another painful whine. That was when Caesar went for the kill. One of his most lethal combinations. Shadow claw, saturated with deadly poison. Artemis's favourite choice in battle. Under most circumstances, it would usually have meant the demise of the prey, in case medical aid didn't reach it in time. Had it been a regular Ninetales, it would have been whimpering in pain before finally giving up.
The problem was, Aoi wasn't just an ordinary Ninetales.
For a second, she ignored the pain. For a second, she ignored the chaotic energy reacting with her own blood. For a second, nothing mattered, save her, and the foolish ghost who had prematurely attacked her without knowing exactly what it was he was dealing with. For a second, the searing hot pain stood forgotten, replaced by the sheer, icy blizzard of pure vengeance.
And her tails lifted upward, spreading out into a corona behind her, as they changed colour, the vermillion on the end deepening while the lower parts gaining a deeper shade. Two of her tails were injured and leaking blood out, the blood almost invisible in the deeper crimson background, as her eyes glowed with unrestrained power.
Crimson red Vermillion was in effect.
It did not matter that Caesar was a ghost. It did not matter that ghosts were nigh invulnerable to psychic attacks. It did not matter that they were currently inside a haven with an almost incomprehensible amounts of latent ghostly energy.
And then Caesar knew pain.
One of the major differences between ghost-type and the other types was their unique body physiology. Unlike the other types, ghosts were actually… a congregation of chaotic energies, held together by a sentience, which was often analogous to the concept of a physical mind. Of course, most ghosts developed a physical form, and some, like Dusknoir and Golurk, were literal physical behemoths, capable of physical movement and attack like the average Rhydon. Gengar, however, were different.
For a Gengar knowledgeable about the scope of its true abilities, the concept of a physical form served a singular purpose.
Deception.
A Gengar unlike most other ghost-types, was much more… effective as an incorporeal being than a corporeal one. In fact, the stronger a Gengar was, the more its proclivity to stay incorporeal at all times—that, or living in shadows. To turn itself corporeal, with a fixed shape, form and makeshift physiology put a slight strain on its person, because it needed to coordinate the innate chaotic energy through proper and well-regulated pathways. Though, it wasn't that it was completely a disadvantage, because doing so, enabled it access to a different move pool that would be otherwise, inaccessible when incorporeal.
Like will-o-wisp for example.
However, being in a corporeal form also brought in, its share of weaknesses, the primary among those being that the sentience, which was initially just a congregation of chaotic energy, was temporarily given a physical shell, a makeshift imitation of a brain, with the pathways connecting to it from all parts of their physical form. Any damage done to this… brain would not kill a Gengar, but channel and amplify the pain into all portions of the body.
In short, a central point of failure.
Case in point- Caesar felt his innate chaotic pathways tear from within as Aoi focussed her powers to amplify pain stimulations into the receptors of his brain. The fact that a psychic was able to not only grasp, but also manipulate the innate network within a ghost, was a testament to just how scary the powers of CRV were, when used without any restraint. Caesar, whose favourite way of killing involved turning himself into miasma, and then pouring himself into the victim, before slowly poisoning it from within, felt pain at magnitudes several times greater than what his lethal attack would produce in a psychic on Caesar's best day.
He tried to disperse, but Aoi had his pathways under her grasp. He tried to turn into miasma, but she held a tight grip over his sentience. He wanted to explode, to cancel out the pain, but Aoi's powers held him in place. Unable to move, unable to cry, unable to defend, unable to do anything as he felt unprecedented agony, hanging in a pseudo comatose state, with only his consciousness barely hanging in, and yet, fully comprehending that he was trapped, and there was nothing he could do to escape this hell.
….
….
"Aoi!" Caesar heard the human cry out, as said human rushed up the staircase, towards the lithe creature, holding on to her, as he realized that she was gravely wounded. Almost in reaction, the creature's hold over Caesar vanished completely, allowing the Gengar to fall down to the ground, trying to disperse to counteract the pain, though only in vain. That creature… Caesar didn't know what she was, but Caesar would be damned if he let her stay alive for another second.
And he pulled himself up, the ambience lending him strength, as he raised his claws to curse the creature. She would know agony greater than what she had just imparted to him. She would only whimper for the rest of her life, while Caesar would slowly imbibe her life-force. He could almost taste the lavish taste of such an exquisite- Urk!
He looked down, his convex eyes widening as he curiously observed the single paw, brimming with void energy, impaled through his chest, the energies of the Void creating a far more adverse reaction to him than the psychic had done. For a moment, he wondered if it was possible to feel any more pain than what he was currently feeling.
In hindsight, he shouldn't have tempted the Gods of irony.
Pure, undiluted poison poured into him from behind, the poison only amplifying the reaction caused by the void energy percolating into his system. He would be lucky if he were ever able to completely heal from such a wound, especially after what that odd creature had done to him.
Caesar felt his body sag, as he slowly slid off the poisoned claw, before falling down to the wooden floor. Behind him, her left claw morphed into a night slash, and coated with poison, Sylvi grinned maliciously.
She would need to thank the white-furred feline later for teaching her that attack.
Ash heard Aoi whine in pain as he felt her powers safely descend him down to the ground, her focus barely flickering despite the fact that she had been attacked by a wrathful Gengar of all pokémon. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn't been so… so… weak, having to depend upon his pokémon to keep on living. Over the last four months, he could count all the times when he had been the one to aid his pokémon and not the reverse—in one hand, and have fingers left over. The reverse of it… he would have to keep counting 0n and on.
If I am going to become a proper trainer, then even I myself need to train to be better, be stronger. At this rate, I will simply be a weakling cheerleader for my team, and not someone they look up to.
Banishing his inner thoughts, he pushed himself off the floor, dashing upwards, past the now trapped Gengar, all the way to his beloved pokémon, holding her softly as he felt her focus flicker and die. The reddish liquid on his hands could only mean one thing-he observed with widened eyes—
Blood.
Almost in instinct, he turned his head up front, barely in time to see the fallen Gengar pull himself up, his eyes glowing with vengeful malice, as his maws began to drip with a strange and sinister energy. If not for the time spent with his own Gengar, he wouldn't have known what Caesar was doing.
The Gengar was about to use Curse.
Almost instinctively, his hands coiled around Aoi, ready to pull her backwards, pushing himself forward to intercept the curse, since she was too heavy to pull away from the path of the curse in time. The least he could do was-
"Urk!"
The malicious Gengar made a lurching sound, making Ash look back at him in surprise. A single paw, belonging to some other Gengar, had impaled itself through Caesar's chest, as the malicious Gengar whimpered for a moment, before slowly sliding down and falling onto the floor, phasing through the wooden surface as he fell beneath.
Past him, stood his own Gengar, her eyes shining with an inscrutable expression, her grin in full force, and her paw dripping with dark energy- a Night slash attack, Ash realized.
"Gengar…" He hesitated.
"Gen!" Said shadow pokémon whispered back, before slowly levitating ahead towards them. Her crimson eyes glowed, as she raised her claws towards the injured tails, and began to soak up the residual ghostly energies out of Aoi's system. Of course, soaking in foreign ghostly energies would naturally hurt Gengar as much as a normal shadow ball attack, but not something even remotely unbearable. Within some extremely precious and painful seconds, she had managed to extract most of residual energies into her own system, before stepping back, and dispersing. It was a rather unconventional method of getting rid of foreign and toxic substances from her system, something she had used to great extent back when she was actively battling as Ethan's pokémon. Using the old technique after so many decades felt like… a sort of jamais vu, for her, as if using it for the first time.
"That was…." Ash croaked… his words dying in his throat.
"That was Sylvi's father." Agatha's voice resonated from downstairs. Ash heard her slowly walk her way through the decrepit staircase, an odd, white-colored Gengar floating beside her person as she did.
"Sylvi…" Ash began apprehensively.
"Gengar!" His Gengar answered.
"Your name is… Sylvi?"
Gengar grinned.
"My father's starter. Sylvi was my favourite back then, when I lived on the island with my mother." Agatha's voice seemed cracked. "The Gengar that… from what I am told, tried to kill you, is Sylvi's father, and my grandfather Lord Artemis Ainsworth's pokémon, Caesar."
"Caesar." Ash repeated. "He almost killed me?"
Agatha almost… snorted. "Well, it was more along the lines of… try to kill you, to be precise. This house is under my command, and the residents wouldn't take it very well if my commands were broken, least of all by one of their own. Had your Ninetales not… interrupted, my brothers and sisters would have stepped in to take charge. Of course, her act was one of bravery and deep loyalty, something of great admiration. I do not, of course, minimize her sufferings, which I am sure, are severe."
Said Ninetales was currently giving a stink eye to the barely-human woman that stood in front of her and her trainer.
Agatha wasn't done speaking yet. "Speaking of which, I am very interested in how exactly did a young man, barely fifteen, managed to acquire the allegiance of a Ninetales with command over…" Her lips twisted into a knowing smirk. "Crimson Red Vermillion."
Aoi just stared at the woman, her expression scrutinizing. From the very start, she had felt an otherworldly gaze upon her, from the very moment she had stepped inside the mansion. The woman's gaze hadn't felt any different at all. She had more than enough experience living in the proximity of ghost-kind over centuries to be oblivious to it.
Was it all just a coincidence? Or a detailed, and planned out event to make me reveal my nature?
It must have been a coincidence, but Agatha's face broke into a knowing smile almost instantly.
"Aoi is hurt. She needs medical treatment." Ash spoke up.
On the contrary, I am quite able to heal myself. Just put me in one of those heal-balls you are obsessed with.
Ash chuckled mirthlessly. "Very well, I'll do that." He gave Aoi a knowing look. "You are a real piece of work, you know, but thanks for saving my life."
Haven't you heard? I just… interrupted an ongoing experiment.
"Either way." Ash replied, a little forcefully this time.
Aoi wisely didn't bother backing her statement up, as Ash plucked out a single heal-ball out of his belt, and touched it on Aoi's temples, sucking the nine-tailed fox inside it. Then, he turned over towards Agatha. "Explain."
Said person just arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
"You expected this to happen. Was this your way of ensuring that Gen- Sylvi would stay back regardless of her wishes?"
Agatha chortled. "My-my, such crudeness. It is so much welcome than the boring humility you displayed earlier."
"You did not answer my question." Elite Four be damned, Ash wasn't going to let anyone play with the lives of his team.
"Bah!" The old crone sighed. "No, boy. It was not my intention to kill you or send you away in pieces. Contrary to your own deductions, it was more of the opposite."
"What do you mean?" Ash asked, eyes narrowed at the woman in front of him.
"Sylvi was… conflicted, between continuing on the path to her own progress, or once again, losing herself to the flaws that my father taught her to avoid." She paused, her line of sight shifting towards the ghost standing beside the teen. "Don't give me that look, young lady. I remember my father teaching me that when he was alive and on the island."
"Uh… she's at least a century old." Ash wisely pointed out.
"She's a ghost, you blithering idiot." Agatha snapped. "A century of age is little more than adolescence for a Gengar. Figures why she was entranced with someone like you."
Ash felt like he should take offence on that statement, but was too mentally exhausted for that.
Agatha continued. "As I was saying, I believe Sylvi has finally learned from her mistakes. She'll be leaving with you, on completion of your tutelage. Who knows? Perhaps she might even manage to learn something new to enhance her skills."
Ash's eyes widened on hearing those words. Gengar—Sylvi wasn't going to abandon him like he had feared. She was going to be leaving with him when the time came. That line of thought brought him to the next topic-
"As far as the Tree is concerned," Agatha spat, "I must admit I am curious how you managed to keep two extremely hostile ghosts with you for a period no less than three weeks, without killing yourself several times over. Is it also a secret like your method of attaining allegiance of that feisty Ninetales?"
Ash didn't rise up to that taunt.
"Nevertheless, my sister took… offense at some of the Tree's insinuations. They have taken him to the graveyard for a while."
"The graveyard?" Ash suddenly remembered something Agatha had told him earlier.
"The Tower is also connected to the entrance of a graveyard, so should you ever… find fresh, wet grass beneath your feet, you will not move, and instead, yell loudly for me."
Agatha's eyes glinted knowingly. "A Lavender Town secret, which stays in Lavender Town. I'm afraid you can't know the secret without consequences."
Ash gulped. He was curious about it, sure, but not suicidal enough to go looking for it, not with the threats upon his life. "I understand."
"Good, to know." The revenant crone grinned. "We will see each other come tomorrow morning. Retire to your room. We will begin your tutelage tomorrow."
Ash didn't need another reason to delay any longer.
Somewhere in Fuchsia.
The little restaurant hardly seemed posh enough for the people using it on a daily basis, Paul mused, as he sat at a corner, stirring the contents of the hot soup in front of him with a tablespoon. When he had first conversed over the telephone, he had been incredibly skeptical about the entire thing. Then again, even the greatest philanthropists out there had hidden skeletons in their closet, skeletons which if revealed, would classify them worse than notorious serial killers. From that perspective, needing a private job done, under secrecy agreements, no questions asked, was nothing out of the blue. Hell, if things turned out right, this would probably be the best fucking deal he would have taken after arriving in Kanto.
The door opened, and a white-haired man walked in. He looked sixtyish, and wore silver framed spectacles, and gave away the aura of a calm, but raw, unrestrained brilliance. Almost instantly, their eyes met as he seemed to recognize Paul, before walking up to him. An easy smile on his face, he gripped Paul's hand in a strong and confident grip. "Paul, I presume? "
The Sinnoh native nodded with a thin smile.
"I'm told you are good at what you do, on both sides of the market. I must admit I'm rather… curious why a strong trainer like yourself is not serving the Leagues or something similar."
"Is that relevant to the context of our discussion?"
The older man smiled. "No." He pushed the other chair before occupying it, as he gave Paul his undivided attention. "Just as we spoke over the phone, I need your aid in certain… excavation-related work, and I am told you did a good job at Mount Moon prior to this."
"Wouldn't acquiring the services of archaeologists be a more viable solution?" Paul asked. "Then again, someone like you would probably have hired a hundred on a whim if that was what you wanted, which makes me wonder what exactly it is you want excavated away from prying eyes."
"Is that relevant to the context of our discussion?" The man questioned playfully.
Paul pursed his lips, unhappy of having his own words thrown back at him. "No."
The man relaxed back into his chair. "I'll be candid, Paul. The job I need done can turn out rather… dangerous, and could be life-threatening."
"Facing threats is the sort of thing people in my business do before breakfast every day."
"Not something of this type, you don't." The man snapped, pulling out a little contract form.
Standard confidentiality agreements. Paul realized.
"You sign this form, and we can talk about it after that. Even if you do not agree to do it after hearing the terms and conditions, I'm offering to pay you two thousand pokedollars for… as they say, keeping your mouth shut, not that the agreement would ensure anything less than that. Of course, we will discuss remuneration should you accept the job contract."
Without further delay, Paul snatched up the contract, quickly eyeing through the details, before scratching his name at the bottom of the page. "There, done."
"Earnest, and quick to decide. An admirable skill." The white-haired man observed. "I hope you would not mind me releasing my psychic to ensure us some privacy?"
Paul nodded, as the man lifted up a single pokeball, an ordinary one, Paul noted.
"Come out, Beheeyem."
The pokémon that came out seemed like a robotic mushroom at first sight, what with its large mushroom-ish head, and the various little lights on the rest of its body. Two hands protruded out on either side of the head, as the psychic-type floated in the air next to them, before its eyes glowed an eerie green, as a psychic shield erupted out of nowhere, enveloping them completely.
"Now that we are free from external ears, we can discuss this at length." The man replied, as he pushed himself ahead, giving Paul his undivided attention. "As I said, this job might… and please note, might be life-threatening to you, or it might just be something… completely normal, well, as normal as an excavation can be. Whatever happens inside the zone, is going to be limited to the two of us, and just the two of us, regardless of whatever happens to you or me as a result."
"And what exactly are you trying to achieve over…" Paul paused, trying to get a specific word that suited it. He finally decided on—"this event?"
"Something that might bring an irreversible and great change to our world."
Paul rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic answer. "So can you tell me what it is? If not that, then its general purpose or your own intentions regarding it? It shouldn't matter, especially specially after I have… signed the agreement."
The man frowned. "I'm afraid I can't. Importantly, I assure you it is not a matter of trust, but of plausible deniability. What I intend to do is not illegal, and last I checked, is not hurting or maiming anyone. Nevertheless, a great many people and organizations could profit from certain… nefarious uses of what I aim to uncover, and hence, the need for secrecy. If it ever becomes an issue, you have complete freedom to say that I forced you to do it on threat upon your life and career as a trainer. I shall even help you fabricate certain documents pertaining to that, should you wish."
Paul arched an eyebrow. He had met several clients over the years, but this was, hands-down, the weirdest client-meet, he ever had.
"All right." He paused, drawing his breath. "About the remuneration."
"Right, I should be able to pay you sixty thousand pokedollars for your aid. You must admit, even for a complete suicide mission, that amount of money is outrageous."
Paul had a really hard time trying to digest the ludicrously high sum mentioned as remuneration for his services. This man was insane, it was official. He couldn't help but wonder just what it was, the man needed his aid with.
"About that," he finally spoke. "I have a counter-offer. If we are in agreement, then I am in. Else, I walk away, no strings attached."
The white-haired man arched an eyebrow. "This amount isn't satisfying enough for you?"
"On the contrary, it is more than satisfying. It is just that… I could get something… better from a person of your own position."
"Interesting." The man's eyes shone with raw curiousity. "And that is?"
Paul took out a photograph, in which a significant position was marked with red ink. "I demand twenty thousand in cash, and … this."
The man's eyes instantly widened with surprise. "I should have known."
Paul gave him a winning smile. "Come now, surely such a thing would be more than easy to arrange for someone of your position. Isn't that right, Mr. Stone?"
The man thought about it for a moment. "All right. I think… it can be arranged."
"Then the deal is settled. Count me in." Paul gave a head-nod.
The man got up from his chair, as they shook hands again. "If we are going to be working together, I request you to call me Derrick."