Church of Arceus, Ravelle kingdom
The chamber was still.
Candlelight danced along the marble walls of the inner sanctum, each flicker casting golden curves across the silver sigils etched into the floor. The ceiling rose high into a vaulted dome, its surface painted with swirling constellations Arceus at the center, surrounded by symbols of the elemental Plates.
Elira, the Saintess of the Church of Arceus, knelt in the circle of light, hands folded tightly. Her white-and-blue robes shimmered with faint divine embroidery, but her breathing was uneven.
A low hum reverberated through the room subtle, like a whisper beneath the world. Her fingers clenched against the floor.
Then her eyes opened.
They were glowing.
---
And then she saw.
---
Fire.
Roaring, endless fire consuming valleys and mountains alike. In the distance, a massive creature, its form too alien to fully understand, towered over crumbling ruins its limbs jagged and shifting like glass shards, its maw unhinged to devour a whole city in a single breath.
Its presence warped the very ground.
Another shape followed
a sleek, narrow beast, Blade-armed and lightning-fast, darting across broken streets. Everywhere it passed, buildings fell like sandcastles. Its eyes glowed red with hunger.
Then twin bug-like forms, pulsing with crimson light. One spun webbing that twisted the land, strangling forests and rivers. The other moved underground, bursting from the soil with silent, perfect strikes that left only blood and silence behind.
And then… the final figure.
Floating. Regal.
A dragon, cloaked in golden aura, its wings a flowing tapestry of unnatural light. Its roar cracked the heavens, and when it moved, the world screamed with it.
The others bowed before it not in reverence, but in acknowledgment of power.
It was not Arceus.
But it thought it was.
---
Elira's breath caught in her throat.
She staggered, the vision breaking. The hum stopped. The candles flickered violently some extinguishing themselves in gusts of unseen wind.
She gasped, hand at her chest, heart pounding.
"What… was that?" she whispered aloud, trembling.
Her forehead glistened with cold sweat. The vision had never come like that before so vivid, so real. The Beasts… she didn't know their name, not fully, but their presence was burned into her bones now.
Not just danger.
Not just corruption.
Calamity.
And the golden dragon was that what they worshipped? The false "divinity" the whispers warned of?
She rose slowly, her hands shaking as she reached for her staff.
She needed to warn the Council.
---
Steel rang against steel.
A final clang, a grunt, and the thud of a body hitting dirt.
Shion stepped back, breath steady, as the last of the bandits fell unconscious near the edge of the roadside woods.
His scarf fluttered in the breeze, half-singed from a wayward Ember earlier, and the left arm of his coat bore a long slash that had thankfully missed flesh.
Jareth stood nearby, calmly wiping the edge of his Lairon's horn. "That's the last of them."
"Bandits again," Fena muttered, crouching to tie up the leader. "Getting sloppy, though. They didn't even scout properly."
"They were desperate," Dunlin added, rummaging through a fallen bag. "See their gear? Worn blades. Malnourished Pokémon. This wasn't a raid it was a last-ditch grab for food."
Shion lowered his guard and glanced over the scene. None of the bandits were dead just unconscious or winded. Their Pokémon were already recalled or fled.
Bidoof waddled up from the brush, munching on something, looking proud. "Another flawless victory," Shion imagined him saying, though the divine creature only gave a self-satisfied snort.
Kiba padded over from the right, fur bristling slightly but unharmed. He bumped his nose against Shion's side once, then settled in beside him.
"You alright?" Jareth asked.
Shion nodded. "Yeah. Took a few close hits. But nothing serious."
"Good," Fena said, standing. "We'll tie them up and leave a note for the next patrol to pick up."
"Shame they picked the wrong cart," Dunlin said with a dry grin. "They'd have better luck mugging a Tauros."
---
They were back on the road within the hour, the wheels of their cart creaking once more as they rolled through open meadows flecked with yellow daisies. The sun hung high overhead, warm and pleasant despite the morning's excitement.
Mudsdale trotted steadily, guided by Jareth, who whistled softly to himself as he navigated the winding path.
Inside the cart, Shion leaned back on a stack of supply crates, watching the clouds roll by through a flap in the canvas.
Bellmire lay just over the next set of hills.
"You'll like Bellmire," Dunlin said from the front. "Biggest town this side of the kingdom. Not quite Ravios, but not far off either."
Shion perked up. "Really? Bigger than Hartwick?"
"Twice as much trade, ten times the noise," Dunlin said. "Stone walls, proper sewers, open markets, and even a theater square if you're feeling noble."
"There's also a guild hall there," Fena added, glancing at Shion. "The main guild hall of the region."
Shion blinked. "Wait the guild hall?"
"The Ravelle Grand Adventurer's Guild," she said with a grin. "That's where Bronze, Silver, and even Gold-rank teams go to get real contracts. Monster suppression. scouting. Dungeon-clearing and more."
Shion sat up straighter. "That's… kind of a big deal."
"You're not wrong," Jareth called from the front. "Most adventurers never make it past Bronze. But considering how you've handled yourself lately…"
Fena tilted her head. "Maybe it's time you considered a rank raise."
Shion hesitated, thinking. "I didn't even plan on being an adventurer. It just… happened."
"Still," Fena said. "You've earned more than Bronze"
Shion scratched his head. "I mean, it'd be useful. Higher rank and better jobs"
"And more pay," Dunlin added.
Bidoof let out a snore from behind a crate.
Shion smiled faintly. "Yeah. Maybe I'll do it. Just… weird to think how far things have come since Riverleaf."
The cart bumped slightly as the road curved around a rock ridge.
From the hilltop ahead, Bellmire came into view its gates wide, flags flapping gently, buildings packed close but rising high in staggered tiers. Beyond it, in the hazy blue distance, the white spires of Ravios glinted like swords aimed at the sky.
---
Ren pov
The paper was thin, smooth beneath his fingertips.
Ren sat at a desk in his recovery chamber, the window cracked just enough to let in the mountain breeze. It smelled of cold stone and pine. Light spilled across the parchment before him, catching faint flecks of gold on the ink he'd used.
The letter was short.
Two words.
Nothing more.
He stared at them for a while, then folded the page slowly and slipped it into the waiting envelope. His handwriting was small, precise, as always. No signature. No flourish. Just:
"I'm fine."
He sealed it.
Outside, a Pidgey cooed softly as it fluttered down to the windowsill, tilting its head at him.
Ren stood, his movements no longer labored. The aches still lingered beneath the surface, but his Aura pulsed strong now steady, tempered by days of meditation and quiet.
He walked over and tied the letter to the Pidgey's courier band. It waited patiently, then chirped and flew off into the sky, wings catching the light as it vanished toward Ravios.
He didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
But something in his chest, long frozen, shifted slightly.
A knock came.
He turned as the door opened, and Commander Seris stepped into the room.
She looked as crisp and commanding as ever, her Gallade behind her like a silent echo. Seris's silver cloak fluttered slightly as she entered, her eyes assessing him quickly.
"You've healed," she said.
Ren nodded once. "Enough to stand. Enough to fight."
"Good." She approached the desk. "You're being reassigned."
Ren tensed subtly. "Where?"
"Not far. But the purpose has changed." She folded her arms. "You've drawn attention, Ren. The Hydreigon incident wasn't quiet. Your Aura was seen. Not just by your team."
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You'll need training," Seris said flatly. "Not just to control your Aura. But to survive what's coming."
A long pause stretched between them.
Then she added, "Come with me. There's something you need to see."
And with that, she turned and walked out.
Ren followed.
---
Mila POV
The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the Academy courtyard, gilding the tops of the towers in orange light. The sounds of training echoed distantly students calling commands, Pokémon roaring and clashing in the fields beyond.
But Mila didn't hear any of it.
She sat alone beneath the bloomtree in the far garden, arms around her knees, her braid undone and draped across her shoulder. Gardevoir stood nearby, quiet and watching with an expression of gentle concern.
Every day she hoped. Every day she doubted. Rumors still swirled about the Hydreigon incident at Soldris Ridge, but no official word had come.
She tried to stay composed. Strong. Focused.
But her heart hurt.
She wanted to believe he was alive. That he hadn't just disappeared.
That she hadn't been writing into silence for nothing.
Then came the flap of wings.
A soft rustling sound.
Mila blinked and looked up.
A small Pidgey, dusted with road-dirt and tired from flight, landed on the edge of the bench. It stuck out its leg awkwardly, a scroll tied to the courier band.
Her eyes widened.
She reached for it with trembling hands.
The handwriting on the scroll was unmistakable.
Ren.
She fumbled with the knot, pulled the letter free, and opened it with a sudden sense of urgency like air flooding into lungs held too long.
Two words stared back at her.
> I'm fine.
That was all.
No apology. No explanation. No flourish.
But Mila froze, staring at those words as if they were sacred.
Her lips trembled.
She let out a shaky breath.
Then suddenly tears.
Hot and fast and unstoppable.
She pressed the letter to her chest and bowed her head.
"…jerk," she whispered, voice cracking.
But a smile slipped through the tears.
Because he was alive.
And he had finally written.
---
Shion POV
The gates of Bellmire stood tall, framed by weathered stone towers wrapped in ivy and flying banners stitched with the Ravelle Kingdom crest. The city was loud, alive, filled with voices and the sounds of carts, Pokémon cries, and the occasional musical trill from the inner square.
Shion leaned out of the wagon's side as they rolled up the final rise of the trade road, wind tousling his hair. His green scarf snapped behind him like a flag, frayed but proud.
Before them, Bellmire opened like a storybook layered terraces of clay-roofed homes, stone bridges over narrow canals, a massive circular plaza at its heart, and above it all, the Ravelle Grand Adventurer's Guild, rising like a castle of stone and oakwood.
"Whoa," Shion murmured. "This place is… huge."
"Told you," Dunlin said with a smug grin. "If you're looking for opportunity, Bellmire's got it."
"I can smell the alchemy shops already," Fena said, eyes gleaming.
Jareth squinted ahead. "I'll guide us to the west quarter stables. Cheaper rates, and they don't mind Golurks."
Shion glanced toward the guild hall.
His heart beat faster.
Something was waiting here. Not just paperwork and upgrades.
A step forward.
And far off in the distance, almost obscured by mist and light, the white towers of Ravios still shimmered on the horizon.
Almost there.