"Young Master…"
Huang Li stiffened. The voice cut through the heavy air, quiet but thick with reverence. The tone sent a chill down his spine, crawling under his skin. Yet, it wasn't just reverence. There was something more—regret, heavy and unspoken, that clung to the words like a shadow.
Before him, the figure became clearer, cloaked in regal robes that belonged to an era long gone. Its face remained hidden, obscured by a swirling mist, but its form was unmistakably human. The chamber seemed to dim as the figure stepped forward, and Huang Li's instincts screamed at him to back away.
"...Master, you have finally been born," the figure whispered, its voice trembling as though burdened by centuries of emotion.
Huang Li froze, breath hitching in his throat. There was something unsettling about the way the figure addressed him. Like a long-lost servant, reunited with a master he thought was dead centuries ago. The ghostly figure bowed low, its movements slow and deliberate, and the air around them seemed to grow heavier.
"Forgive this old slave," the figure murmured, "for not being there when you were born… for not being able to raise you as I was tasked."
Huang Li blinked, his confusion deepening. A knot of unease twisted in his gut. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice firmer than he felt. "Why would you have been the one to raise me?"
The figure straightened, though its form flickered, almost as though it were struggling to hold itself together. "I am Old Mo, a servant of your ancestors, the first demonic ancestors of the Huang Clan. I was tasked to be your guardian by the head of the clan before its fall."
Huang Li crossed his arms, forcing himself to hold the ghost's gaze. A servant of his ancestors? That was an absurd idea, yet everything about this place defied reason. "You're supposed to be my guardian? In that… ghostly form? Doesn't seem like you're in any position to protect anyone."
The figure flickered again, its outline dimming briefly before it stabilized. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped Old Mo, though there was no real amusement in it. "Ah, it is the fault of that wretched intruder… Somehow, without reaching the level of an Immortal King, he found his way into the life-forbidden zone, defying all natural laws. I fought him, but in doing so, I lost my physical body."
Huang Li's curiosity flared despite the tension in the air. "And who exactly is this bastard who managed to take you down?"
"Just a rat," Old Mo said dismissively, "one who only showed his face after the Huang Clan fell. He was nothing, but his cowardice allowed him to strike when our forces were scattered. Do not concern yourself with him. I dealt with the scum, even if it cost me my body."
Old Mo's figure shimmered, and though his answer was evasive, Huang Li let it pass for now. There were more pressing questions.
"If the Huang Clan was so powerful," Huang Li began, his tone growing serious, "why are we… gone? Shouldn't there be more of us?"
Old Mo's form dimmed slightly as if the question caused him pain. "The Huang Clan was unlike any other, Young Master. There were only ten true members, each one a pillar of strength that stood above even the Immortal Kings. And now, including you, there are eleven."
"Eleven?" Huang Li blinked in disbelief. "There were only ten of us? That doesn't exactly sound like an empire."
Old Mo nodded solemnly. "Yes, only ten of your bloodline. But each was feared across the heavens. Even our few numbers could not prevent the envy of lesser clans, nor the fear we inspired. The Great Dao itself came to despise us."
"The Great Dao?" Huang Li repeated, his frown deepening. "What did we do to provoke that kind of wrath?"
Old Mo's lips twitched into a smile, but it was not one of joy. It was the kind of smile one wears when recalling something awe-inspiring yet tragic. "Your sibling, Huang Lin, the youngest of the core clan, provoked the heavens by consuming half of the Heavenly Dao. A feat no one else dared attempt, let alone succeed in."
Huang Li's mind reeled. Half of the Heavenly Dao? The concept was mind-boggling, a cosmic impossibility. "He ate the Heavenly Dao?" he muttered, trying to grasp the sheer scale of such an act. "How does someone even do that?"
Old Mo's expression darkened as though the memory of it pained him. "It was his brilliance and arrogance combined that made it possible. He did what no one else dared to even imagine. The other clans had long feared us, but this act? It was too much for them—and too much for the heavens themselves."
Huang Li let out a hollow laugh, the absurdity of it all crashing down on him. "Of course. The Huang Clan is full of lunatics." The words felt almost reflexive, but underneath, a growing sense of unease stirred. This was no simple tale of power. The weight of his lineage was starting to press down on him.
"Such was the audacity of the Huang Clan," Old Mo replied, his voice somber. "That act sealed our fate. The heavens could tolerate many things, but such defiance of their natural order was unforgivable. The long-lived clans, who already envied us, seized the opportunity. With the Great Dao backing them, they waged war against us."
A faint growl rumbled from beside Huang Li. Absol's fur bristled, and Lunala hovered closer, its eyes narrowing as though sensing the shift in the room's energy. The mention of war and betrayal had stirred something in the Pokémon, a recognition of the danger and darkness in the story being told.
Huang Li felt the tension rise. "So, we didn't just make enemies. We angered the very heavens themselves."
Old Mo's expression grew darker. "Yes. The other clans had long feared us, but it was only with the heavens' blessing that they dared move against the Huang. Your ancestor's defiance gave them that opening, and they came for us with everything they had."
Huang Li's stomach twisted. The idea of facing not just rival clans, but the very forces that governed the universe? It was no wonder the Huang Clan had been wiped out. And yet…
He tilted his head, his mind racing. "But… if the Huang Clan was so powerful, how did they manage to kill us all? Surely, with strength like ours—"
"They didn't," Old Mo interrupted, his form flickering violently now, as if weakened by the memory. "It is difficult to kill someone truly at the Immortal King realm, let alone one of your bloodline. Even death is not final. But while they may have fallen, true death for beings at their level is not so simple."
Huang Li felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine, his mouth suddenly dry. "So… you're saying they're not dead?"
Old Mo's ghostly eyes met his, a sad, knowing look passing between them. "It is possible, Young Master, that they live still, in some form. Once one reaches the level of Immortal King, death is not as final as it is for others. They may return, given enough time."
The weight of those words pressed down on Huang Li like a lead blanket. His ancestors—the mad, power-obsessed demons who had challenged the very heavens—might still be out there, lurking in some shadowed corner of existence. If they returned, what would that mean for him? Could he stand against them? Did he even want to?
He clenched his fists, a mixture of fear and anger roiling in his chest. "If they're still out there… if the remnants of the Huang Clan survive, then I'll deal with them when the time comes. But I'm not going to walk the same path they did."
Old Mo's form flickered once more, though there was something softer in his gaze now. "The fact that you question their choices shows that you are different, Young Master. The world you will shape need not mirror the one they did."
Huang Li's jaw tightened. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Old Mo. But right now, I've got more immediate problems. Like not starving to death in this wasteland."
A faint chuckle escaped the ghost, its voice an eerie echo. "You are practical, just like your father. And don't worry, the ring you carry has the solution to your hunger."
Huang Li blinked. "My father?" he repeated, his heart skipping a beat. He had always believed himself to be formed, not born. The idea that he had a father… an actual blood connection… was jarring.
Before he could ask more, Old Mo's form began to dissipate, his figure fading like mist in the wind.
"Wait—what about my father?" Huang Li called out, his mind swirling with questions. "What was he like?"
But Old Mo was already gone, his final words barely audible. "You will learn in time, Young Master. In time…"
The chamber fell silent, and Huang Li stood there, his thoughts a whirlwind. His ancestors' shadows loomed larger than ever, but for the first time, he didn't feel lost in them. He had choices—choices his ancestors never seemed to consider.
"Well, Lunala, Absol," he said, his voice steady despite the storm in his mind. "Looks like we've got a lot more to do than just survive. Let's get to it."
Absol let out a low growl, its eyes gleaming with determination, while Lunala hovered protectively at his side, its wings casting a faint, glowing light on the stone walls.
As they left the chamber, the weight of the Huang Clan's legacy followed him like a shadow, but Huang Li wasn't afraid. He wasn't like them—he'd prove it, one step at a time.