Want to read ahead. You know where
-----
The outskirts of Icirrus City were quiet, almost unnaturally so.
Not a single trainer or villager could be seen on the winding paths.
The only sounds ca from the wind brushing across the tall grass and the distant cries of wild Pokémon fleeing deeper into the forest.
Sam slowed his pace, raising a hand.
"Here," he said firmly.
Garchomp rumbled in acknowledgnt, landing in an open clearing wide enough for a battle.
Its claws dug into the ground, ready for whatever was coming.
The sky shifted.
A low, rolling thunder echoed from the clouds above.
Dark storm clouds twisted violently, flashing with streaks of blue-white lightning.
Then,
Boom!
A black dragon descended, its massive fra blotting out the sky as it crashed into the clearing.
Thirty ters tall, wings crackling with electricity, its red eyes glowed like burning embers.
The sheer weight of its presence sent shockwaves across the field.
Zekrom, the Dragon of Ideals, had arrived.
A crushing pressure spread outward.
The air grew heavy, almost suffocating.
Wild Pokémon that had lingered too close bolted in terror, scattering into the shadows of the forest.
Sam's eyes sharpened.
The system-like ability he possessed activated instinctively, scanning the legendary Pokémon.
Information flowed directly into his mind:
[Pokémon: Zekrom]
[Type: Dragon/Electric]
[Ability: Teravolt, Ignores opposing Abilities when attacking.]
[Level: 89 – Peak Tier 2 Legendary (Sealed)]
[Moves: Noble Roar, Ancient Power, Dragon Breath, Thunder Fang, Slash, Crunch, Thunderbolt, Thunder…]
[Exclusive Moves: Fusion Bolt, Bolt Strike]
[Condition: Recently awakened , still weakened from a great battle, not at full power.]
[Remarks:
Zekrom lends its strength to those with the courage to pursue there ideals.
But should they abandon them, it will unleash rciless lightning and reduce all to ash.
Zekrom can enter Overclock Mode. Power skyrockets at the cost of trendous energy consumption.]
Sam let out a low whistle, eyes locked on the massive beast crackling with restrained lightning.
Compared to the elegance of the white dragon, Reshiram, this one was almost brutish.
"Honestly…" he muttered, tilting his head, "between the two, Reshiram is far more beautiful. Zekrom's just… ugly."
His words weren't filled with malice, but rather an honest, almost teasing observation.
Still, the remark hung in the air like a spark waiting for fuel.
The dragon's wings flared, a low growl rolling like thunder across the clearing.
Before the tension could snap, movent drew Sam's eyes upward.
A figure leapt down from Zekrom's back, landing with practiced ease.
His green hair whipped in the storm's wind, and his expression was one of both conviction and sorrow.
It was N, the so-called King of Team Plasma.
But Sam knew better.
Behind the title, N was nothing more than a symbol, an idealized figurehead crafted by Ghetsis to bind Plasma together.
The true mastermind of Team Plasma pulled the strings from the shadows, while N stood in the light, carrying dreams that weren't entirely his own.
Still, there was sothing different about him.
Sothing no human could imitate.
N could hear the hearts of Pokémon.
He was closer to them than to humans, his bond so innate it almost seed unnatural.
So whispered he wasn't fully human, that his very existence was half-born of Pokémon.
Whatever the truth, his bond with them was real.
And that sa bond had shaped his view of the world.
To N, Pokémon were not partners.
They were prisoners.
And humanity, their captors.
That belief, twisted, yet painfully sincere, drove him to liberate all Pokémon from human hands.
Now, standing across from Sam, lightning sparking in the air between them, his eyes burned with conviction.
"Ideals and reality cannot coexist," N said, voice sharp, carried by the storm.
"You, acknowledged by Reshiram… and I, chosen by Zekrom. That alone makes us enemies."
He took a step forward, the oppressive aura of Zekrom amplifying his words.
"Sam," N declared, "our paths are set. I will not falter."
Sam's eyes narrowed.
He could see it, the tragedy written all over N.
A man broken by a warped upbringing, carrying ideals that were both noble and destructive.
And yet, there was no room for hesitation.
The storm was about to break.
The idea of "freeing Pokémon" still rang in the air.
Sam's lips curled into a faint smile, not mocking, but dismissive.
N's conviction was misplaced.
Pokémon didn't need chains broken; they needed better bonds.
Words wouldn't change him, though. Only defeat could.
Sam slipped a hand into his bag and drew out the Light Stone.
Its surface was cool and heavy in his palm, but as he poured his will and power into it, a radiance sparked to life.
Light burst outward.
The sacred stone cracked with pure white brilliance until it split open, releasing a torrent of divine energy.
From within the glow, wings unfurled.
White scales shimred like crystal, and flas churned in a turbine-like tail.
The Dragon of Truth, Reshiram, erged in all its majesty, standing tall behind Sam.
"Roooaaarrr!"
Reshiram's cry shook the heavens.
Zekrom responded instantly.
Sparks leapt across its body, thunder booming in its chest.
Its deep, guttural roar tore through the storm.
Two opposites, truth and ideals, faced each other once again.
Sam glanced over his shoulder at Cynthia.
Despite her calm exterior, her fists were clenched tightly.
The stormlight reflected in her eyes made them look like molten gold.
"Cynthia," Sam said gently, "stand back with Garchomp. This fight isn't one you can interfere in."
She bit her lip, then gave a sharp nod.
"…Be careful, Sam. Please."
Her voice was steady, but the worry in it wasn't sothing she could hide.
Sam gave a faint grin.
"Don't worry. This isn't my first dance with legends."
Cynthia retreated with Garchomp, putting a hundred ters between them and the battlefield.
Even from that distance, the oppressive energy made the air vibrate around her.
She clenched her hands, heart pounding, her gaze never leaving Sam.
The atmosphere thickened.
Heat and static filled the air until breathing felt heavy.
Everyone knew, this wasn't just a battle. It was fate grinding forward, unstoppable.
N raised his arm sharply.
"Zekrom! Thunderbolt!"
"Rooooar!"
The black dragon's chest crackled as arcs of lightning surged into the storm clouds above.
The heavens themselves seed to answer its call.
Thunder roared back, and in an instant, a pillar of pure electricity, ten ters thick, lanced downward from Zekrom's maw.
The sky split apart.
Sam's expression didn't waver.
"Reshiram. Flathrower."
"Rooooaaar!"
Flas gathered at Reshiram's mouth, so hot the very air distorted.
In the blink of an eye, it unleashed a torrent of fire, a beam of molten destruction easily as wide as Zekrom's lightning.
The two forces collided in midair.
BOOM!
The world shook.
The explosion tore through the clearing, leveling trees like matchsticks.
A shockwave rippled outward, throwing dirt and stone high into the air.
Cynthia shielded her face against the gale, her hair whipping violently.
Even from her distance, the sheer energy made her body tremble.
Sam frowned slightly, watching the clash.
Reshiram's flas were fierce, but… not fierce enough.
The power was there, but restrained, sluggish.
Compared to Rayquaza's destructive might, both Reshiram and Zekrom seed lacking.
"…Still not fully awake, huh?" Sam muttered under his breath.
Then his eyes sharpened.
"Reshiram, activate Overclock Mode!"
"Roooaaar!"
The white dragon's tail spun like a turbine, blazing with a fiery engine's roar.
Heat blasted outward, the temperature spiking so high the air itself shimred.
The battlefield warped, waves of heat rising like a mirage.
Across from them, N's eyes widened briefly.
He hadn't expected Sam to push Reshiram so far, so fast.
Overclock Mode consud terrifying amounts of energy, forcing a legendary dragon into it so early was reckless.
But N clenched his fist. He couldn't lose. Not here. Not against Sam.
"Zekrom!" he shouted, voice echoing with desperation.
"Overclock Mode!"
Zekrom roared, lightning engulfing its form.
Its body glowed with an almost blinding electric aura, sparks leaping across the battlefield.
The ground blackened and split, charred by stray arcs of power.
Now both dragons stood transford, truth and ideals pushed to their limits.
Flas twisted the air, lightning ripped through the skies.
The storm howled.
The battlefield had beco a place where mortals dared not tread.
And in the next heartbeat, the true clash would begin.
User Comments
0 comments from readers