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The stench of blood filled the air as Earl slowly pushed open the storeroom door.
Beyond lay the familiar hallway where he used to chase shadows and laughter.
Pressing his small head to the crack, he peeked through cautiously.
Cold, stale air hung heavy in the house.
The living room is unchanged, and yet utterly wrong.
His father's magazines lay scattered across the coffee table.
His mother's stained apron hung limply from a chair.
It all looked the sa, and yet... the warmth was gone.
"Dad...? Mom...?"
Earl's voice trembled in the silence. No reply.
His eyes reddened, but he bit down hard, forcing the tears back. Determination flickered within the green of his irises.
He tiptoed to the kitchen, climbed the counter, and reached for a small kitchen knife. Sunlight glead across its blade, the reflection trembling in his pale lips.
Swallowing hard against the iron tang in the air, he turned to the front door and twisted the handle.
Light poured in crimson and wrong.
Blood. Everywhere. The entire street was painted red, the air thick with rot and despair. Broken bodies lay scattered along the cobblestones neighbors, friends, people he had waved to just yesterday.
The sight burned into him, gouging a permanent scar across his young mind.
"Ah—"
The sound escaped before he could stop it. Half a cry, half a sob.
The knife slipped from his hand, clattering against the stone floor.
Earl collapsed to his knees, covering his mouth with a trembling hand as tears stread down his face. The grief and terror tangled inside him like a storm of knives, cutting deeper and deeper.
Even though his cry had been short, it was enough.
"Grrrrrr"
In the silence that followed, a low growl rippled through the air.
From the alleyways on both sides ca the soft tap-tap of claws against stone followed by the wet sound of drool hitting the ground.
They erged from the shadows Mightyena, their matted fur bristling like black fire, eyes glowing with a demonic red gleam.
Their jaws dripped with flesh and blood, breath steaming as they advanced.
The predators had caught the scent.
Their next al was waiting.
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Across the Koron Wasteland, thick grass parted beneath Kael's stride.
He'd been walking all night, the wilderness stretching endlessly around him no roads, no signs of life, just the rustling sea of yellowing grass.
"Still nothing..." he muttered, brushing the strands aside.
If not for the towering old trees on the horizon, he might have believed he'd been walking in circles.
He sighed. "This is getting ridiculous."
The monotony gave his mind too much room to wander.
At first, he'd planned to shape this new body into a pure close-combat powerhouse a durable fighter who could take and deliver punishnt in equal asure. With the divine-tier equipnt fused into him and the natural strength of a Machop, the plan made perfect sense.
But the experints in that underground facility had changed everything.
The procedure hadn't just altered his body it had infused it with Ghost-type energy.
He flexed his hand, feeling the faint chill dancing beneath his skin. A strange duality now pulsed through him: Fighting and Ghost.
He could still walk the path of the warrior... but how could he ignore power like this?
That spectral energy whispered to him, mysterious and dangerous like a forbidden fruit.
He couldn't resist wondering what would happen if he truly embraced it.
Could he fuse the solid strength of a fighter with the fluid unpredictability of a phantom?
Could he beco sothing new a hybrid that belonged to neither world?
His thoughts spiraled with possibilities as the tall grass began to thin, the terrain opening up ahead.
"Hmm?"
His brow lifted. "Finally, so open ground?"
A spark of anticipation lit his eyes. He quickened his pace, pushing through the last of the grass.
And there on the horizon, he saw it.
A town. Small, old-fashioned, human.
He slowed, eyes narrowing.
"Looks peaceful enough... maybe I can get so directions."
It was a reasonable thought. In most worlds he'd seen, ordinary people weren't hostile to Pokémon. Even if this wasn't the sa reality as before, it shouldn't be too different.
But the closer he drew, the heavier his chest beca.
No voices. No movent.
The buildings stood still under a sunless sky.
Then he caught a faint tallic scent carried by the wind.
Blood.
Kael's muscles tensed.
Sothing was very, very wrong.
He crouched, energy swirling beneath his feet, and then—
BOOM.
The ground cracked as he launched forward like a black flash, cutting across the open plains toward the silent town.
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