Giratina: Adversary
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We stood as if evenly matched, one against one, blade against blade, in the heart of the forge I had called both prison and home. Light and darkness, virtue and aggression, eye to eye, we circled the den as warriors. And all the while came the shrieks of my soul, the barely restrained fury, never to rest, never to heal, always to relish the savagery of war...
I stared into the Raichu's eyes, aghast and furious. How?! How could it be Sparktail who fought me, Sparktail who attacked me, when he had always been the weakest link, the foolish one? Why had Insyte stood idly by, and what had happened to Rush? Where were the ones I had once loved, the ones that fate had ripped from me?
Fury began to seethe like a poison through my black veins. I had devoted my entire life to these wretched Pokemon, giving them all that I had; I had died for their worthless, insignificant lives! If not for them, I would be alive. If not for them, I would have been spared the agony of the millenia, lost and alone, trapped forever in a living hell.
And now they defied all that I stood for, rejecting me and all my works, the oaths I had sworn; and instead they turned to the cruel light of their gods, embracing earth and sky, the world known and the world unknown. I would taste their blood and flesh before I let the last lights fly from their eyes!
I stared into the Raichu's eyes, aghast and furious. How?! How could it be Sparktail who fought me, Sparktail who attacked me, when he had always been the weakest link, the foolish one? Why had Insyte stood idly by, and what had happened to Rush? Where were the ones I had once loved, the ones that fate had ripped from me?
Fury began to seethe like a poison through my black veins. I had devoted my entire life to these wretched Pokemon, giving them all that I had; I had died for their worthless, insignificant lives! If not for them, I would be alive. If not for them, I would have been spared the agony of the millenia, lost and alone, trapped forever in a living hell.
And now they defied all that I stood for, rejecting me and all my works, the oaths I had sworn; and instead they turned to the cruel light of their gods, embracing earth and sky, the world known and the world unknown. I would taste their blood and flesh before I let the last lights fly from their eyes!
- M - E - M - O - R - Y -
I had stoked the forge of malice for two thousand years, feeding the aggressive energies of the world to its hungry flames, watching and waiting. The eternal void, the Passage of the Dead, had been allowed to exist since time immemorable. And so, I let the creatures of the world believe that there was no evil, that there was no true malice, that there was no cold, that there was no darkness. How foolish. Any who should make oath with me would bear these black flames, in aura and scent.
It always amused me, to see what the humans thought of these creatures called Pokemon, so similar in appearance and yet so vastly different from the ones they called 'animals', who were on the verge of extinction. Emboars and "pigs", Milktanks and "cows", Combusken and "chickens". At first, the humans were reluctant to feed off the Pokemon as they had with the animals, but when the last animals died, they had no choice.
Am I the bringer of nightmares, or am I the reciever? When I recede into the shadows, and let my mind fade into dust, I see a shining blade in the hands of a human with stern eyes. I see a Charizard with shredded wings, his claws long and golden. I see a Gardevoir with swaying white robes, clutching a spear of blue crystal. Crouching by their feet is a young boy, holding a pair of knives. Then, I see an older man with gold cuffs on his wrists. They stand together as one power, one force, the eyes of my enemies, the ones who vanquished me.
Few were willing to accept that the Pokemon were, deep down inside, still animals. Only when the humans adopted them, cared for them, trained them to be strong, would the Pokemon forego their bestial ways. Perhaps it was then that I first began to resent how humanity tamed us, how they controlled us, weakened us, held us back. Perhaps it was then that the first seeds of war first took root...
It always amused me, to see what the humans thought of these creatures called Pokemon, so similar in appearance and yet so vastly different from the ones they called 'animals', who were on the verge of extinction. Emboars and "pigs", Milktanks and "cows", Combusken and "chickens". At first, the humans were reluctant to feed off the Pokemon as they had with the animals, but when the last animals died, they had no choice.
Am I the bringer of nightmares, or am I the reciever? When I recede into the shadows, and let my mind fade into dust, I see a shining blade in the hands of a human with stern eyes. I see a Charizard with shredded wings, his claws long and golden. I see a Gardevoir with swaying white robes, clutching a spear of blue crystal. Crouching by their feet is a young boy, holding a pair of knives. Then, I see an older man with gold cuffs on his wrists. They stand together as one power, one force, the eyes of my enemies, the ones who vanquished me.
Few were willing to accept that the Pokemon were, deep down inside, still animals. Only when the humans adopted them, cared for them, trained them to be strong, would the Pokemon forego their bestial ways. Perhaps it was then that I first began to resent how humanity tamed us, how they controlled us, weakened us, held us back. Perhaps it was then that the first seeds of war first took root...
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I had come to despise the man I once was, that hideous shell of a human, now broken and dead for good. I had sworn to destroy the awful legacy that my old self had built up! I had sworn to prove that we Pokemon were savage and dangerous, to avenge thousands of years of mankind's oppression.
Was it Mewtwo who freed us? We do not remember now; yet we remember seeing the greatest of all Pokemon transformed into a hideous abomination of war at the hands of greed-wallowing humans. We remember how he broke the bells and destroyed the first seal upon us, how he helped us wreak havoc upon mankind once more...
When I seized my rightful throne, Dialga and Palkia rose up to fight me as surely as if I had summoned them. Perhaps they expected a swift and easy fight, but they had forgotten what powers I had regained, and each of them fell. To hear Palkia's dying screams was music to my ears; so too were Dialga's agonized screams.
I left Palkia's broken corpse in the Forests of Ilex to rot, but I had not yet finished with the Dialga, and so I locked him within the abyss to join the dark spirit. When the king's armor and blood tarnished to gold, the cycle of revenge would be complete, and I would watch as my brother tore apart the cities who called him a god!
I see now that the tainted souls of Hearthome's dead have stirred a powerful hunger within the Void. With each passing day, it grows larger and stronger, and from the depths come living shadows to strengthen my army, to shatter mankind's hold on fellow Pokemon, to stir the hearts of the wilderness. When the Void has claimed the Four Virtues, and reaches the peak of its power, all things shall see the world's blackened truth-- and even Arceus himself will be unable to stop this dark crusade.
The Void speaks to me of bygone times when men were thrown into the abyss to die, and it fed off their misery until they turned to dust. My machine of war is rolling strong, and with each city that falls, I shall feed the once-great humans to the Void, letting it strip them of all that they were. From darkness we came, and to darkness we return!
Was it Mewtwo who freed us? We do not remember now; yet we remember seeing the greatest of all Pokemon transformed into a hideous abomination of war at the hands of greed-wallowing humans. We remember how he broke the bells and destroyed the first seal upon us, how he helped us wreak havoc upon mankind once more...
When I seized my rightful throne, Dialga and Palkia rose up to fight me as surely as if I had summoned them. Perhaps they expected a swift and easy fight, but they had forgotten what powers I had regained, and each of them fell. To hear Palkia's dying screams was music to my ears; so too were Dialga's agonized screams.
I left Palkia's broken corpse in the Forests of Ilex to rot, but I had not yet finished with the Dialga, and so I locked him within the abyss to join the dark spirit. When the king's armor and blood tarnished to gold, the cycle of revenge would be complete, and I would watch as my brother tore apart the cities who called him a god!
I see now that the tainted souls of Hearthome's dead have stirred a powerful hunger within the Void. With each passing day, it grows larger and stronger, and from the depths come living shadows to strengthen my army, to shatter mankind's hold on fellow Pokemon, to stir the hearts of the wilderness. When the Void has claimed the Four Virtues, and reaches the peak of its power, all things shall see the world's blackened truth-- and even Arceus himself will be unable to stop this dark crusade.
The Void speaks to me of bygone times when men were thrown into the abyss to die, and it fed off their misery until they turned to dust. My machine of war is rolling strong, and with each city that falls, I shall feed the once-great humans to the Void, letting it strip them of all that they were. From darkness we came, and to darkness we return!
- M - E - M - O - R - Y -
Far to the east lived the one called N, the human idealist who rejected his fellow man's truths to forge a reality of his own. The one who despised the human opression of Pokemon as much as I did, the one who would sacrifice his humanity for Pokemon as I had. He was one of the human race's best and brightest hopes for the future.
He sought to destroy the foul human regime of Pokemon battling, just as I did; yet at the same time, he worked to cast whatever barriers he could between humanity and Pokemon. With the angelic goddess of divine fire, N was prepared to create a world in which Pokemon would live alone from humans, ready to restore to Pokemon the ancient glorious days of the Golden Age.
It was because of his wretched father, who was the epitome of all things I despised of humans, for which I turned my back upon Team Plasma, and sowed the seeds of N's great defeat at the hands of the black dragon. My lone regret is that in my scheme, I allowed another human hero rose to glory. And yet, it shall be worth the price, for I shall enjoy feasting upon Ghetsis' blood one day...
But Unova shall wait, for there are greater prizes to wash in red. Humanity has spread too far, across too many lands; the disease is strongest in the lands of Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto, and their bodies shall sate my thirst in time. Even these, however, must wait, for I have only the solace of a world that is no world: too dark, too cold, too silent, too empty; trapped forever with meaningless delusions of war.
He sought to destroy the foul human regime of Pokemon battling, just as I did; yet at the same time, he worked to cast whatever barriers he could between humanity and Pokemon. With the angelic goddess of divine fire, N was prepared to create a world in which Pokemon would live alone from humans, ready to restore to Pokemon the ancient glorious days of the Golden Age.
It was because of his wretched father, who was the epitome of all things I despised of humans, for which I turned my back upon Team Plasma, and sowed the seeds of N's great defeat at the hands of the black dragon. My lone regret is that in my scheme, I allowed another human hero rose to glory. And yet, it shall be worth the price, for I shall enjoy feasting upon Ghetsis' blood one day...
But Unova shall wait, for there are greater prizes to wash in red. Humanity has spread too far, across too many lands; the disease is strongest in the lands of Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto, and their bodies shall sate my thirst in time. Even these, however, must wait, for I have only the solace of a world that is no world: too dark, too cold, too silent, too empty; trapped forever with meaningless delusions of war.
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The Four Virtues cower in terror. The Pokemon of the wilderness cannot stop me. Even the legendary Red cannot halt my forces rising. And though the warriors of Unova are resilient, they can only oppose me with half of its strength, and Unova's dichotomy shall be its downfall.
The Vulcanites are a powerful force to be contended with. Heatran has an admirable savagery, ruling his people as a machine of war, a factory of soldiers. And yet, he demands an unnecessary amount of discipline, to uphold the cause they fight for! How well-trained must a warrior be to kill a single, cowardly human with no Pokemon slaves to hide behind?
Darkrai has summoned more Hexwraiths to Fuschia City, ones far stronger than the Dusknoirs of Sinnoh's southern cape. Efficient, swift, and brutal; they seize their victims and spirit them away, where in their final hours, humans learn the violent truth of nature, before they are consumed body and spirit by a dominant will.
Ah, yet there are strange rumors on the wind. I have heard claims that Kyogre and Groudon broke free from their restraints. I know not why or how this would happen, but they do not answer my summons. Yet they are wild and feral, and they shall do more harm than good for the humans if they rise against me, for they embody the natural world in all its chaos.
But who should have the power to free them? I forged the Red Chains that bound them; I alone can destroy them. No human or Pokemon could hope to break the chains, when every shackle bears my aural imprint! And what manner of creature would be so bold as to enter the mundane lairs where the Orbs lie? There shall be a reckoning...
The Vulcanites are a powerful force to be contended with. Heatran has an admirable savagery, ruling his people as a machine of war, a factory of soldiers. And yet, he demands an unnecessary amount of discipline, to uphold the cause they fight for! How well-trained must a warrior be to kill a single, cowardly human with no Pokemon slaves to hide behind?
Darkrai has summoned more Hexwraiths to Fuschia City, ones far stronger than the Dusknoirs of Sinnoh's southern cape. Efficient, swift, and brutal; they seize their victims and spirit them away, where in their final hours, humans learn the violent truth of nature, before they are consumed body and spirit by a dominant will.
Ah, yet there are strange rumors on the wind. I have heard claims that Kyogre and Groudon broke free from their restraints. I know not why or how this would happen, but they do not answer my summons. Yet they are wild and feral, and they shall do more harm than good for the humans if they rise against me, for they embody the natural world in all its chaos.
But who should have the power to free them? I forged the Red Chains that bound them; I alone can destroy them. No human or Pokemon could hope to break the chains, when every shackle bears my aural imprint! And what manner of creature would be so bold as to enter the mundane lairs where the Orbs lie? There shall be a reckoning...
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Though my spirit longs to be free, I shall wait and bide my time, and retribution shall be all the greater. For now, I shall be content to rip the fat-swollen skull of Cyrus from his idiotic body. The foolish man thinks to control Dialga and Palkia with the likes of the Red Chains; what fallacy could cause him to forget that the chain's true strength only emerges when the links are forged willingly?
He comes closer, wandering and muttering as if possessed by demons, and I feel a savage joy from the shadows within me. I cannot resist, he has crossed the threshold; I reach forward and drag the old man out from his searing world, tear him from his roots and pull him into my lair. The lake guardians follows him into the undead world, as if to watch me feast on his worthless corpse.
But then come two more humans, a woman in black, and a boy with a blue jacket and a red beret. The guardians warn me that the woman has the power to destroy me with a flute if I should attack them, and they shall not leave until they know Cyrus is safe. Anger brews within me, and I reach for the great weapons; but no, I am still a powerless shadow, still cut off from myself, a paltry shell of the spirit dragon who forced the world to its knees. Furious, I reluctantly retreat into the ugly shadows, and I watch the humans search.
I cannot stand them, cannot stand the words they utter, how the boy speaks of destiny and the woman again stubbornly cries of the intrinsic good of all Pokemon, holding true to her ignorant doctrine, traveling this broken world like infants on a playground. The lake guardians do not hide; they toy with the humans, leading them onward in circles, through pits and over rocks, but the humans will not venture close enough to the Void to be consumed.
I can wait no longer, and I descend upon them in all my fury, in all my rage, attacking the boy with the hatred of two millenia. I fight to the last breath, but he has invested much riches into his warriors, and they wear me down, battering me relentlessly. With my last ounces of strength, I crush the terrible capsule he flings at me, before it can consume, and I flee into the darkness.
He comes closer, wandering and muttering as if possessed by demons, and I feel a savage joy from the shadows within me. I cannot resist, he has crossed the threshold; I reach forward and drag the old man out from his searing world, tear him from his roots and pull him into my lair. The lake guardians follows him into the undead world, as if to watch me feast on his worthless corpse.
But then come two more humans, a woman in black, and a boy with a blue jacket and a red beret. The guardians warn me that the woman has the power to destroy me with a flute if I should attack them, and they shall not leave until they know Cyrus is safe. Anger brews within me, and I reach for the great weapons; but no, I am still a powerless shadow, still cut off from myself, a paltry shell of the spirit dragon who forced the world to its knees. Furious, I reluctantly retreat into the ugly shadows, and I watch the humans search.
I cannot stand them, cannot stand the words they utter, how the boy speaks of destiny and the woman again stubbornly cries of the intrinsic good of all Pokemon, holding true to her ignorant doctrine, traveling this broken world like infants on a playground. The lake guardians do not hide; they toy with the humans, leading them onward in circles, through pits and over rocks, but the humans will not venture close enough to the Void to be consumed.
I can wait no longer, and I descend upon them in all my fury, in all my rage, attacking the boy with the hatred of two millenia. I fight to the last breath, but he has invested much riches into his warriors, and they wear me down, battering me relentlessly. With my last ounces of strength, I crush the terrible capsule he flings at me, before it can consume, and I flee into the darkness.
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There came a day when a Ponyta, a Spiritomb, and a Dusknoir brought prisoners to me, claiming to have captured the Four Virtues. Such wretched minions! Had they not paid attention to my warnings? The Virtues have evaded capture from humans for centuries; they will not be seized so easily, not by such weak pawns!
Then, I recognized the three Pokemon they had taken, the scent of their fur, the hidden scars. Was it was a cruel joke of the Four Virtues, for Sparktail, Thalia, and Insyte to be captured in their place? Ah, yes, the Virtues would pay, for I had no desire to see these faces. Perhaps, when I had found the rest of the set, I would take a closer look at them; but for now, I shall hand them over to Darkrai to play with...
And then I see the truth: If they have survived, so too have the others. I should have cut their throats when I had the chance, when I saw them helpless by their trainer's body! I should have ripped them to shreds and cast the pieces into the abyss! Ever stronger shall the Void rage, uniting the bloodiest shards of this wretched earth into a black maelstrom.
No longer shall I linger at this mountain, for it is the mountain of Arceus and his beloved children, not I, the black sheep, the rejected son, the weakling brother. No, I shall join my forces in their beautiful savagery; I will lead the soldiers myself, so that the world can see firsthand who commands the scarlet tide!
Then, I recognized the three Pokemon they had taken, the scent of their fur, the hidden scars. Was it was a cruel joke of the Four Virtues, for Sparktail, Thalia, and Insyte to be captured in their place? Ah, yes, the Virtues would pay, for I had no desire to see these faces. Perhaps, when I had found the rest of the set, I would take a closer look at them; but for now, I shall hand them over to Darkrai to play with...
And then I see the truth: If they have survived, so too have the others. I should have cut their throats when I had the chance, when I saw them helpless by their trainer's body! I should have ripped them to shreds and cast the pieces into the abyss! Ever stronger shall the Void rage, uniting the bloodiest shards of this wretched earth into a black maelstrom.
No longer shall I linger at this mountain, for it is the mountain of Arceus and his beloved children, not I, the black sheep, the rejected son, the weakling brother. No, I shall join my forces in their beautiful savagery; I will lead the soldiers myself, so that the world can see firsthand who commands the scarlet tide!
- M - E - M - O - R - Y -
It was not always this way, that even young boys and girls could hope to capture the beasts of legend, and even my most ancient self despised how it had become so. Once, the legends struck fear into the hearts of men; blazing firestorms, thrashing thunderbolts, withering blizzards. Once, we Pokemon could terrorize entire nations with a single sweep of our claws.
Even the most committed humans, who devoted their lives to a cause, who sought to alter the face of the world-- through torrential floods, through blood-boiling sunlight-- they could not master the ancient beasts of legend, for all their dedication, for all their schemes. Blinded by their pitiful humanity, they would unleash a cataclysmic power they could not hope to control.
But it all changed with the young human prodigy, Red. The greatest Pokemon Trainer to have ever lived, he earned his first badge at the age of ten, tamed Zapdos at age eleven, and became Champion at age twelve, bringing inspiration to a foolish world. Now every young trainer thinks himself or herself a prodigy in the vein of Red, and all respect for legend is gone.
And the Pokemon of the wilderness accept this folly. The Sentrets of Johto, the Rattatas of Kanto; they embrace the humans who trample into their fields, who invade their homes, who capture them and force them to battle their brethren. They condone these aliens, and allow themselves to be dragged into slavery. And the further north they live, the more willingly they submit. Truly, what madness has consumed these creatures of the world?
I have not forgotten the boy who crossed an ocean, whose father came before him. The Zigzagoon he held prisoner should have clawed out his throat! And yet with each passing day, I felt the Pokemon's aggression fade, until he submitted to the boy and his human values, fighting his own kind as a Linoone for the sake of this youth! How should it be that humans, with their blood-thinning ideals, should prove dominant over Pokemon?
Even the most committed humans, who devoted their lives to a cause, who sought to alter the face of the world-- through torrential floods, through blood-boiling sunlight-- they could not master the ancient beasts of legend, for all their dedication, for all their schemes. Blinded by their pitiful humanity, they would unleash a cataclysmic power they could not hope to control.
But it all changed with the young human prodigy, Red. The greatest Pokemon Trainer to have ever lived, he earned his first badge at the age of ten, tamed Zapdos at age eleven, and became Champion at age twelve, bringing inspiration to a foolish world. Now every young trainer thinks himself or herself a prodigy in the vein of Red, and all respect for legend is gone.
And the Pokemon of the wilderness accept this folly. The Sentrets of Johto, the Rattatas of Kanto; they embrace the humans who trample into their fields, who invade their homes, who capture them and force them to battle their brethren. They condone these aliens, and allow themselves to be dragged into slavery. And the further north they live, the more willingly they submit. Truly, what madness has consumed these creatures of the world?
I have not forgotten the boy who crossed an ocean, whose father came before him. The Zigzagoon he held prisoner should have clawed out his throat! And yet with each passing day, I felt the Pokemon's aggression fade, until he submitted to the boy and his human values, fighting his own kind as a Linoone for the sake of this youth! How should it be that humans, with their blood-thinning ideals, should prove dominant over Pokemon?
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The Silver Conclave lies broken now, and mankind's destruction continues unhindered. Elias Elkwood, the legendary Swordwrit warrior who crossed time, was taking refuge on its shores, but he is no more; the oracles Solus and Stealthius, too, were found and now gone. Save perhaps the longhorn Absol, the Swordwrit shall not be a threat any longer.
Zapdos has drastically crippled the Iron Fleet; less than half of them remain, more than enough to ground the Silver Summoner with his grief, just as during the previous war. I am almost disappointed by how easily Lugia has been dealt with, but perhaps it is fitting that the true challenges come from the pestilence of humanity itself.
And yet, even as Jirachi descends into the Void to join the other two Virtues, Mewtwo's reports are troublesome. How can Slick's Pokemon still be alive, so soft-bellied and unfamiliar with the wilderness as they are? And though I freed them from my former self, they have spat upon their new freedom and rejected it. They spurned the promises of Slick, they spurn the promises of Giratina!
They are dangerous warriors, dangerous and unpredictable. I can name what they once were, yes: Sparktail was trained with the blade, and Thalia with two; but Insyte was nothing but a whimpering shadow, and now he blazes like the sun! And as for Rush--
There is no excuse for Rush! None! I can speak of how I despise the rest; but for Rush, there are no words, no light, no oath. I will peel apart his flesh piece by piece and feed it to him, for abandoning me in my hour of death; I will grind every last face he loves into blood and dust before his eyes; he will know horror and despair, a thousand deaths!
Zapdos has drastically crippled the Iron Fleet; less than half of them remain, more than enough to ground the Silver Summoner with his grief, just as during the previous war. I am almost disappointed by how easily Lugia has been dealt with, but perhaps it is fitting that the true challenges come from the pestilence of humanity itself.
And yet, even as Jirachi descends into the Void to join the other two Virtues, Mewtwo's reports are troublesome. How can Slick's Pokemon still be alive, so soft-bellied and unfamiliar with the wilderness as they are? And though I freed them from my former self, they have spat upon their new freedom and rejected it. They spurned the promises of Slick, they spurn the promises of Giratina!
They are dangerous warriors, dangerous and unpredictable. I can name what they once were, yes: Sparktail was trained with the blade, and Thalia with two; but Insyte was nothing but a whimpering shadow, and now he blazes like the sun! And as for Rush--
There is no excuse for Rush! None! I can speak of how I despise the rest; but for Rush, there are no words, no light, no oath. I will peel apart his flesh piece by piece and feed it to him, for abandoning me in my hour of death; I will grind every last face he loves into blood and dust before his eyes; he will know horror and despair, a thousand deaths!
- M - E - M - O - R - Y -
A tool of destruction, Mewtwo became my sword, my avenging weapon, unearthed by men and used against men. An unknown quandry locked away for centuries in the genetic code of the Mew tribes of Guyana, his birth was a dark folly, an unforseen twist of fate. And with the blood of the world's enemies on his hands, his mind opened to my voice.
Thus, the gates of my banishment were torn open, and I took my first true breath in over two thousand years. When the bells rang their last, the elements bowed before my sword, who took command of their terror, and turned them upon the world's slavers. Stirred by wayward youths from sleep, my servants flocked to my side; for through them, humans sowed their own destruction.
Does Tyranitar still remember his bondage to the human Evice? For when I rose from the abyss, when I cried out to the wild, he was one of the first to answer my summons. Spared by the human hero Wes, he was released into the wilderness of Sinnoh years hence. Though he was weak, tainted by a soft-hearted land, I chose him for my flag, to stand beside my sword.
One by one, the cities fell before me. Fire consumed the heart of the land, and thunderous wrath destroyed its harbors. In the shadows of mankind's corruption, I discovered the nightmare incarnate; and Darkrai too joined my forces, helping to tear down all that men had built. In their dogmatic faith, in their blind worship of the gods, not one voice in Sinnoh thought to connect the destruction with me.
At Seabreak Castle, at last I saw the chosen hero emerge, Aluxiver's heir, marked for destiny by the Virtues. And yet he was not ready to oppose me; like all humans, he was weak of will, and too easy to drive away. He had none of the gifts of his ancestor; he shall be easy to destroy. I shall fear the Virtues and their empty threats no longer.
Tyranitar and Mewtwo would have slaughtered Cynthia's pet beast, but nay, I stayed their hands. For within this mute, crippled Garchomp, I saw a feral beast, extinction incarnate. I saw a spirit that embraced carnage and reveled in chaos, a streak of scarlet that would terrorize the crumbling remnants of humanity before they turned to ashes. And with all of Sinnoh broken and shattered before me, the world was mine to claim.
Thus, the gates of my banishment were torn open, and I took my first true breath in over two thousand years. When the bells rang their last, the elements bowed before my sword, who took command of their terror, and turned them upon the world's slavers. Stirred by wayward youths from sleep, my servants flocked to my side; for through them, humans sowed their own destruction.
Does Tyranitar still remember his bondage to the human Evice? For when I rose from the abyss, when I cried out to the wild, he was one of the first to answer my summons. Spared by the human hero Wes, he was released into the wilderness of Sinnoh years hence. Though he was weak, tainted by a soft-hearted land, I chose him for my flag, to stand beside my sword.
One by one, the cities fell before me. Fire consumed the heart of the land, and thunderous wrath destroyed its harbors. In the shadows of mankind's corruption, I discovered the nightmare incarnate; and Darkrai too joined my forces, helping to tear down all that men had built. In their dogmatic faith, in their blind worship of the gods, not one voice in Sinnoh thought to connect the destruction with me.
At Seabreak Castle, at last I saw the chosen hero emerge, Aluxiver's heir, marked for destiny by the Virtues. And yet he was not ready to oppose me; like all humans, he was weak of will, and too easy to drive away. He had none of the gifts of his ancestor; he shall be easy to destroy. I shall fear the Virtues and their empty threats no longer.
Tyranitar and Mewtwo would have slaughtered Cynthia's pet beast, but nay, I stayed their hands. For within this mute, crippled Garchomp, I saw a feral beast, extinction incarnate. I saw a spirit that embraced carnage and reveled in chaos, a streak of scarlet that would terrorize the crumbling remnants of humanity before they turned to ashes. And with all of Sinnoh broken and shattered before me, the world was mine to claim.
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Now I gaze with savage pleasure upon the burning ruins of Blackthorn, once a resilient city of dragon-slavers, but now a field of ashes. When Scarlet Streak rose against Lance and tore out his throat, did he understand the terrible wrath he incurred? Did he see the vengeance of the sacred beasts his clan had enslaved for decades, the terror of the dragons that he turned against his enemies? This was the price they paid for their centuries of
Then, as the Rhyperiors gather the prisoners, I see an old man kneeling on the ground before me, begging for us to spare his kin. But his pleas are empty; his children and their families lie strewn across the ground, and his children's children have been gathered into coffles of six, prepared for transport to the mines in Sinnoh. Coffles of six, just as the trainers bound their Pokemon.
But as I descend towards him, I see the wooden carving of a Mew in the old man's trembling hands. Mew, the one who trapped me in this cycle of destiny, who took my loved ones from me, who cast me into this cursed existence, who mocks me even in her captivity. The dark fires that consume the city are not enough to quell the fury, now! And yet my prey has gone scarce, swept off the earth by my soldiers; and all thought, all logic blurs into crimson death.
Snarling, I wrest the old man from the ground, striking blindly with open eyes, thrashing in sunlit shadow. I will not rest, until Red's blood is upon my claws, until I have ripped the great Champion from his throne and torn him apart. I will not rest, until the world is purged of humanity and their bone-splitting morals. I will not rest, until the legacy of men fades into myth forever.
Then, as the Rhyperiors gather the prisoners, I see an old man kneeling on the ground before me, begging for us to spare his kin. But his pleas are empty; his children and their families lie strewn across the ground, and his children's children have been gathered into coffles of six, prepared for transport to the mines in Sinnoh. Coffles of six, just as the trainers bound their Pokemon.
But as I descend towards him, I see the wooden carving of a Mew in the old man's trembling hands. Mew, the one who trapped me in this cycle of destiny, who took my loved ones from me, who cast me into this cursed existence, who mocks me even in her captivity. The dark fires that consume the city are not enough to quell the fury, now! And yet my prey has gone scarce, swept off the earth by my soldiers; and all thought, all logic blurs into crimson death.
Snarling, I wrest the old man from the ground, striking blindly with open eyes, thrashing in sunlit shadow. I will not rest, until Red's blood is upon my claws, until I have ripped the great Champion from his throne and torn him apart. I will not rest, until the world is purged of humanity and their bone-splitting morals. I will not rest, until the legacy of men fades into myth forever.
- M - E - M - O - R - Y -
No, it is not Mew's fault. I know my mistake. I underestimated the chosen hero, the one who called himself Slick Silversky. Yes, he was weak as humans are. Yes, he was a coward. But I had forgotten Slick's role in history; I had forgotten the bond that joined us. And thus, I sealed my own fate.
Within days, my forces arrived in Almia, in Fiore, in Oblivia, in Kanto, in Johto, in Hoenn, and in Orre, with the rest of the world to follow after. But I soon discovered that Slick was a greater danger than I had expected. He was one of the Hoenn Elite Four, and next in line to succeed the Champion. Hoenn's militaries were always disorganized but fierce; under Aluxiver's heir, they would surely be my undoing.
I soon turned my full attention to Hoenn; for Dialga had taken the Griseous Orb to the Cave of Origin. I retreated my armies from other regions; once my soul was complete, the rest of the world Through Dusknoir spies, I soon learned Slick's weakness: He did not trust other humans. My strategy came togoether with impossible perfection... and the trap succeeded as planned.
Did Slick know his destiny then? Did he know of the sword that was his by birthright, that would have allowed him to slay me in battle? But I had already won, for the Griseous Orb was mine to wield again. With the ancient weapon I had created two thousand years ago, I descended upon Mount Pyre and slew Slick, the chosen hero, my enemy.
But in his dying moments, our eyes met; and in that instant, I saw my mistake. I had forgotten that he was protected by the Virtues' blessings; I had forgotten that he was my equal, that he had been labeled light, just as I had been labeled darkness. I could not harm him without harming myself. And as he died, I... I experienced fear for the first time.
In an instant, all logic shattered, all senses became scattered. The Griseous Orb had rejuvenated me, but even my full strength failed ke. I could not contain my lieutenants, and so their bodies were transformed by black fire-- Mewtwo's pale rotting flesh, Garchomp's blood-red scales, Tyranitar's white skin. And so I fled into the chaos, the Devil terrified in the depths of Hell.
He clawed his way out from the eternal abyss, no longer human, no longer alive, but a mindless beast, an offshoot of Dialga's madness. Still weakened, I struck with all my power, with all my fury; but just as on the day that humans entered Distortion, I could not repel my enemy. Cursed by Primal Dialga with awareness, cursed by the Virtues with his survival, he triumphed over me in violence. Against my will, he flowed into me, and I flowed into him.
Thus the ghost infiltrated me, sprinting into the distant past, burrowing into ancient memories with fiery delight, through civilization and anarchy, through war and peace, through natural darkness and rising light. And he seized from me my rightful throne, claiming the mantle of the final gate for himself, immersing himself in me until he saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, felt as darkness felt.
Defeated, I sank into the Void, stripped of my power, stripped of my flesh, stripped of myself. I saw the ghost's scar appear on the great serpent's body, saw the new Exile rise from my ashes, hideous and raw, but fierce and vengeful. I saw a demon who was once human, but was no longer. A cursed light in a body of darkness.
As I lie in the Void, sundered from my glorious victory, I see the tragic irony of the Virtues' victory. Aurton Silversky defeated Giratina, but now he has become Giratina. I was wrong to think he had none of his ancestor's gifts, for he had the burning gift that drove Aluxiver to defeat me: a gift of passion. At last, I understand the truth; but I am powerless to break the cycle of fates, the endless tragedy of the Exile, forever doomed to echo itself in meaningless conflicts.
Though my memories linger, it shall be Slick's revenge that escalates the war, that brings the world to its knees. Twisted by death, corrupted by his own madness, he has lost his own humanity, replaced with a feral rage more terrible than mine. He will wage war where I would choose caution; he will slay those who I would isolate for further study. The Virtues have won against me, but they have lost the world-- for they have created a more vicious Giratina than I could ever be!
Within days, my forces arrived in Almia, in Fiore, in Oblivia, in Kanto, in Johto, in Hoenn, and in Orre, with the rest of the world to follow after. But I soon discovered that Slick was a greater danger than I had expected. He was one of the Hoenn Elite Four, and next in line to succeed the Champion. Hoenn's militaries were always disorganized but fierce; under Aluxiver's heir, they would surely be my undoing.
I soon turned my full attention to Hoenn; for Dialga had taken the Griseous Orb to the Cave of Origin. I retreated my armies from other regions; once my soul was complete, the rest of the world Through Dusknoir spies, I soon learned Slick's weakness: He did not trust other humans. My strategy came togoether with impossible perfection... and the trap succeeded as planned.
Did Slick know his destiny then? Did he know of the sword that was his by birthright, that would have allowed him to slay me in battle? But I had already won, for the Griseous Orb was mine to wield again. With the ancient weapon I had created two thousand years ago, I descended upon Mount Pyre and slew Slick, the chosen hero, my enemy.
But in his dying moments, our eyes met; and in that instant, I saw my mistake. I had forgotten that he was protected by the Virtues' blessings; I had forgotten that he was my equal, that he had been labeled light, just as I had been labeled darkness. I could not harm him without harming myself. And as he died, I... I experienced fear for the first time.
In an instant, all logic shattered, all senses became scattered. The Griseous Orb had rejuvenated me, but even my full strength failed ke. I could not contain my lieutenants, and so their bodies were transformed by black fire-- Mewtwo's pale rotting flesh, Garchomp's blood-red scales, Tyranitar's white skin. And so I fled into the chaos, the Devil terrified in the depths of Hell.
He clawed his way out from the eternal abyss, no longer human, no longer alive, but a mindless beast, an offshoot of Dialga's madness. Still weakened, I struck with all my power, with all my fury; but just as on the day that humans entered Distortion, I could not repel my enemy. Cursed by Primal Dialga with awareness, cursed by the Virtues with his survival, he triumphed over me in violence. Against my will, he flowed into me, and I flowed into him.
Thus the ghost infiltrated me, sprinting into the distant past, burrowing into ancient memories with fiery delight, through civilization and anarchy, through war and peace, through natural darkness and rising light. And he seized from me my rightful throne, claiming the mantle of the final gate for himself, immersing himself in me until he saw as darkness saw, heard as darkness heard, felt as darkness felt.
Defeated, I sank into the Void, stripped of my power, stripped of my flesh, stripped of myself. I saw the ghost's scar appear on the great serpent's body, saw the new Exile rise from my ashes, hideous and raw, but fierce and vengeful. I saw a demon who was once human, but was no longer. A cursed light in a body of darkness.
As I lie in the Void, sundered from my glorious victory, I see the tragic irony of the Virtues' victory. Aurton Silversky defeated Giratina, but now he has become Giratina. I was wrong to think he had none of his ancestor's gifts, for he had the burning gift that drove Aluxiver to defeat me: a gift of passion. At last, I understand the truth; but I am powerless to break the cycle of fates, the endless tragedy of the Exile, forever doomed to echo itself in meaningless conflicts.
Though my memories linger, it shall be Slick's revenge that escalates the war, that brings the world to its knees. Twisted by death, corrupted by his own madness, he has lost his own humanity, replaced with a feral rage more terrible than mine. He will wage war where I would choose caution; he will slay those who I would isolate for further study. The Virtues have won against me, but they have lost the world-- for they have created a more vicious Giratina than I could ever be!
+ R + E + V + E + N + G + E
At last I saw what my enemies had done, what self-righteous judgement they had imposed upon me. I saw how Lugia and Ho-oh had twisted fate upon me, taking my greatest joys and transforming them into weapons against me. Fire brewed within my soul, the fire of a thousand scars, and I raised my griseous blade high.
The black spirit whom I cast into the abyss yearns to be free, but his crusade, his cause, his war is mine! None shall call me human now, for even Giratina was more human than I. Let the world know this: I have become death, I have embraced my exile, I am the world's true adversary, I am Giratina.
Whatever wizardry Lugia had concocted, to twist all my children so, would not stand against me and my fire! Sparktail was but a mouse, and I was the great serpent. Predator against prey; he would fall before me easily. For now, I would play with this Raichu, allow him to believe that he stood the faintest chance; and then, when I was done, I would dipose of him.
The black spirit whom I cast into the abyss yearns to be free, but his crusade, his cause, his war is mine! None shall call me human now, for even Giratina was more human than I. Let the world know this: I have become death, I have embraced my exile, I am the world's true adversary, I am Giratina.
Whatever wizardry Lugia had concocted, to twist all my children so, would not stand against me and my fire! Sparktail was but a mouse, and I was the great serpent. Predator against prey; he would fall before me easily. For now, I would play with this Raichu, allow him to believe that he stood the faintest chance; and then, when I was done, I would dipose of him.