In the heart of an ancient and forgotten realm, where the boundaries between life and death blurred, lay a desolate battlefield. Time had long abandoned this place, leaving only the stench of decay hanging thick in the air.
As far as the eye could see, towering corpses of giants—bones as large as mountains—littered the ground. Twisted and broken, the skeletal remains of once-mighty immortals lay scattered among them, their faces frozen in eternal agony.
Amid these fallen titans, deep within a forsaken valley, a strange phenomenon unfolded. Dark clouds circled above, crackling with silent thunder, casting shadows over the earth as if the very heavens were cowering in fear.
At the valley's heart, amidst the stillness of death, was a pool—a vast, rippling lake of blood. Its surface shimmered faintly with an ominous crimson glow, as if the blood itself was alive. The liquid churned, boiling like molten magma, while the ground around it was carved with intricate, ancient symbols that pulsed with hidden power.
Above this lake, five immortal treasures hovered—each representing one of the five elements. They danced in the air, their elemental essences intertwining in an intricate, timeless rhythm: the blazing heat of the Inferno Dragon's Heartstone, the cool serenity of the Tidal Serpent's Scale, the light caress of the Skywhisper Feather, the immovable strength of the Mountainbreaker Stone, and the cold gleam of the Celestial Iron Essence.
These treasures, forgotten for countless millennia, had waited in silence, their purpose unknown—until now.
A low hum began to reverberate through the air, growing louder with each passing second. The treasures trembled as though answering some ancient call, their glow intensifying. The blood pool beneath them rippled violently, its surface bubbling and frothing as a dark force surged through the realm, causing the very ground to tremble.
Something was awakening.
From the depths of the pool, a shadow began to rise. Slowly, it took form—a mass of blood and energy, twisting and coiling as if the lifeblood of the fallen immortals and giants was being drawn toward it. The five treasures, guided by an unseen will, descended into the crimson lake, their forms dissolving into the boiling blood.
The pool churned with greater fury now, and the shadow within grew larger, more defined.
The ground trembled. The air crackled with power.
Suddenly, the mysterious symbols began to emit a powerful light, expanding across the valley. The light acted as a beacon, attracting the essence of the countless fallen beings that littered the battlefield—gods, immortals, giants, and demons. Their remaining life forces, tainted with resentment and hatred, transformed into vengeful spirits, wraiths formed from their unwillingness to accept death.
These spirits surged toward the forming figure in the blood pool, their shrieks filling the air as they attempted to resist the pull. Their anger, their despair, swirled into a chaotic storm of dark energy. But their efforts were futile.
The symbols, ancient and unwavering, suppressed their resistance. The power they radiated was absolute, turning the spirits' efforts into nothing more than futile struggles. Bit by bit, their essence was drawn into the mass in the pool, absorbed into the entity that was forming.
Then, with a sudden surge of energy, the pool exploded outward.
At the heart of the explosion, a blood-red cocoon floated into the air, pulsating with dark energy. It was immense, its surface swirling with the chaotic essence of life and death. Inside, something moved—a faint stirring that hinted at the power waiting to emerge.
For days, the cocoon remained suspended in the air, absorbing the final remnants of the fallen giants and immortals. The blood that had once filled the lake clung to the cocoon's surface, wrapping it in layer upon layer of dark, shimmering crimson. The essence of the five elemental treasures infused it, their power bound to the life forming within.
On the seventh day, the cocoon shuddered.
A crack appeared on its surface, spreading outward like lightning. The air grew thick with anticipation, and the realm itself seemed to hold its breath. The crack widened, and with a sound like tearing flesh, the cocoon split open.
From within, a figure emerged.
It was a child, no more than two years old. His skin, pale as moonlight, was flawless, untouched by the blood and decay around him. His hair, black as the void, fell to his shoulders, framing an eerily calm face.
He took a breath.
As he did, the energy in the air rushed toward him, swirling around his small body as if the very world sought to serve him. The blood that once soaked the battlefield evaporated, drawn into him as he absorbed the last traces of power left behind by the fallen.
Slowly, the child opened his eyes—eyes as deep and empty as the abyss. His gaze was vacant, yet unsettling in its intensity. For a few moments, he stood still, staring into the void.
Then, his eyes flickered.
A look of confusion crept across his face. His lips parted slightly, and in a soft, uncertain voice, he whispered:
"Where... am I? Wasn't I playing Pokémon Ultra Moon?"
To be continued…