The world had changed overnight. What was once thought to be impossible was now reality—a mysterious island had appeared in the sky, undetected by satellites until the very moment it emerged from the clouds. The news spread quickly, but there were no reports from anyone who had ventured near it. Those who had set foot on Crazu Island never returned, and technology failed the moment it touched its shores. The island existed, yet no one could explain how, or why.
The full moon shone brightly in the night sky, casting a pale glow over the city as Spark paced through his father's mansion, his mind racing. The only constant in his life was his father, the stern mayor of a prosperous region, who demanded responsibility and discipline from his son. But Spark wasn't like his father. He wasn't made to sit behind a desk, signing papers or planning policies. He felt out of place in his own life, confined by expectations and responsibilities he never asked for. And tonight, something else called to him—a whisper in the back of his mind, a mystery hidden in the moonlit clouds of the world's newest island.
Spark had never known his mother. She had died when he was young, a casualty of an illness that no one had been able to cure. His memories of her were hazy, but there was one thing that had always stayed with him: the sword. It had been hers, crafted in a style unlike any other. Its design, sleek and elegant, was beautiful yet strange—much like the legacy she had left behind. He had spent years searching for its origin, but all his efforts had led to dead ends. The sword had no known maker, no clear origin, yet it was his most precious possession, and it held a strange power he could never explain.
That night, as the full moon rose higher, Spark made a decision. He would leave.
His father was away on business, and Spark knew this was his chance. He had arranged for a boat to take him to Crazu Island—though no one knew what awaited him there. Most dismissed the island as a place of myth and danger, but Spark was different. He wasn't interested in the reports of vanished trainers or the warnings of others. His mother's final words to him echoed in his mind—"I miss my homeland, Spark... Crazu Island, where our ancestors came from." He didn't fully understand, but the island was a piece of her past, and now it was calling him.
With a swift motion, Spark grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and carefully tucked the sword into the folds of his clothing. The sound of a boat's engine hummed in the distance. This was it—his chance to finally learn the truth of his heritage.
Hours later, the boat dropped him off on the shores of Crazu Island. As Spark watched the vessel retreat into the distance, he noticed a strange sensation creeping over him. It was subtle at first—a prickling feeling on the back of his neck, as if he were being watched. He pushed the thought away, telling himself it was nothing more than nerves. After all, he had come here alone, far from his father's watchful gaze, far from the life that had always been forced upon him.
"Pick me up in a month," Spark had told the sailor, who seemed all too eager to leave. And yet, Spark knew he had made the right choice. Even if the sailor didn't return, Spark had already informed his father that he was taking a break—a vacation, as he had put it. His father, despite his stern nature, had softened when Spark mentioned his mother. With a reluctant sigh, he had given his permission.
The island was eerily quiet. At first glance, it seemed like an untouched paradise—lush forests, towering trees, and rolling hills. But as Spark ventured deeper, his eyes fell upon something strange. Buildings, remnants of a once-thriving civilization, now lay in ruins. What had happened here? He moved cautiously, his sword in hand, unsure of what he might find.
Then, he saw them—wild Pokémon, but not like any he had ever seen before. Some wore strange, ornate armors, while others wielded weapons. They were dangerous, but there was something more to them. Something he couldn't place. As Spark carefully approached, his gaze fell upon a particular weapon: it resembled the sword his mother had left him, but it was different—crafted with a strange, unsettling precision.
He had no time to think. Suddenly, the wild Pokémon surged forward, and chaos broke loose. Spark, though inexperienced, couldn't stand by and do nothing. He drew his sword and fought alongside the trainers, his heart racing with adrenaline. With every swing, he learned more about this place—its secrets, its mysteries, and the bond between Pokémon and the Monster Arms they created.
After the battle, Spark met the surviving trainers. They spoke of their own journey, of the island's history—of Crazu Island, and the forgotten traditions of the Crazu Tribe. It was here, in the crumbling ruins, that Spark's search for answers would truly begin.
"Crazu Island...," Spark whispered to himself. "My mother was from here. But why... why didn't she tell me more?"
As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting an otherworldly glow over the island, Spark felt a strange presence nearby. His heart pounded as a shadow passed across the moon, and then, in the blink of an eye, it appeared—a figure, larger than life, more powerful than any Pokémon Spark had ever seen.
It was Arseneros—the legendary protector of Crazu Island.
And Spark, standing at the edge of a new world, had no idea what he had just walked into.