The native gods had expected their foes to collapse. Yet when the Origin Twins did not yield and struck back instead, they too grew furious.
And of all beings in existence, none understood anger more than they.
Their fury surged. Blood-red light ignited in their eyes, more terrifying than even the wrath of the native Dialga and Palkia.
Dialga opened its jaws wide. Palkia's wings slashed through the void. Together, their combined strikes unleashed devastation beyond anything the native gods had ever summoned.
Roar of Time tore through the fabric of existence, shaking even the currents of history.
Spacial Rend ripped open the void, baring chaos beyond the world's edge.
The native Dialga and Palkia recoiled in horror. These were the very attacks they themselves had wielded countless times across eons—yet now, their own signature moves were being turned back against them, magnified to monstrous levels.
Their blasts crumbled like toys, shattered instantly upon contact.
The sight of their rival's familiar powers—transformed into unstoppable forces, filled even their anger-clouded minds with the instinct to flee.
But there was no escape.
The twin Origin Gods' strikes smashed into them head-on. A massive explosion followed, hurling the native gods through the sky. Their bodies were torn and bloodied, wounds searing across their gemstone cores.
"Rooooar!!"
And then, in a rare moment of shared instinct, the two eternal enemies glanced at one another.
Red and blue light burst from their battered bodies. In that instant, time and space intertwined, their powers fusing perfectly. Together, they cast a binding unlike any move—a divine seal.
Time-Space Imprisonment!
This was not a move, but a raw convergence of temporal and spatial forces. A power so absolute that even Arceus itself could struggle against it for a time.
But they had chosen the wrong opponents.
The Origin Dialga and Palkia laughed coldly.
So what if this was not their native battlefield? They had devoured their Adamant Orb and Lustrous Orb, assumed their Origin Formes, and awakened the Rage State. They had become beings closest to the Creator itself.
How could mere "native gods" hope to chain them?
And if that wasn't enough…
They glanced at each other and released yet another power—the Bloodline Mode, the same ability they had once unleashed against Arceus itself.
The air warped. Temporal and spatial energy surged with terrifying force.
"Roooaaar?!"
"Roooaaar!"
The native Dialga and Palkia froze. The very prison they had cast reversed upon them. They could no longer move. Their rage drained away, replaced by shock.
Reason returned at last, but reason only brought dread. Bound and helpless, they could only watch as their alternate selves advanced, unleashing a new barrage.
Under the training of Akari and Paul, the Origin Twin Gods had long since abandoned their former stupidity. Against alternate rivals, they spared nothing.
Aura Sphere detonations.
Roar of Time bombardments.
Relentless strikes, each one aimed to exploit weaknesses.
The natives thrashed, but there was no resistance left.
If the powers had been equal, then anger, defiance, even rebellion would have been expected. But when faced with overwhelming strength, such resistance was laughable.
After several rounds of merciless bombardment, the native gods were broken.
The blue gem on Dialga's chest cracked. The pink pearls on Palkia's shoulders splintered. They were shattered in both body and spirit.
"Uuurgh…"
The fury faded from their eyes, replaced by desperation. They lowered their heads, trembling, and at last—issued cries of surrender.
They knew now. Their enemies were none other than alternate versions of themselves. And this truth crushed them: when your opponent is you—but stronger, you have no chance.
Even if they escaped back to their realms, what then? Their Origin counterparts could easily cross the threshold, seize dominion, and prove themselves the true masters of time and space.
Against such inevitability, there was only one option—to beg.
"ROOOOAR!!"
And then—
From afar, a black void tore open upon the lake. It spread like spilled ink, coalescing into a gaping abyss. A chilling roar echoed forth.
The wounded natives, who once found that sound maddening, now felt hope surge in their hearts. Their eyes lit with desperate joy.
From the abyss rose a draconic titan, gray and armored, crowned with a golden half-ring, six legs stamping, and spectral wings unfurled.
The Renegade Dragon—Giratina, Master of the Distortion World, had arrived!
It had sensed the violent fluctuations of time and space from within the Distortion World. Immediately, it knew: the "two fools" were fighting again.
For centuries, Giratina had been forced into the role of mediator between them. It had grown accustomed to such chaos.
Though the scale of this conflict seemed larger than usual, it thought little of it, and without fully observing, flew directly into the real world to break up the fight.
But this time was… different.
"Roooar…?"
Hovering midair, Giratina blinked in disbelief.
There were two Dialga and two Palkia. One pair beaten and broken, the other pair radiant in strange new forms.
'So it was… the gods fighting themselves?! No, not even that. The battle was already over. The natives lay defeated.'
"Roooaaar!!"
"Roooaaar!!"
The native Dialga and Palkia cried out together, pleading.
They had lived beside Giratina as uneasy neighbors for eons. Surely, it would help them. Surely, it could not ignore their plight.
And indeed, Giratina hesitated.
If these "foreign gods" could crush the natives so easily, then tomorrow they might come for it as well. It could not let this threat stand.
Just as it steeled itself to strike—
"Will you fight too?"
A clear voice rang out.
Giratina turned. Upon the back of a soaring Braviary stood a girl. Calmly, she drew a Poké Ball from her pouch and cast it forward.
BANG!
The shadow split open. Darkness coalesced into a form Giratina knew better than any other.
A dragon, black as ink, six spectral wings flaring, spikes beneath its body.
Its own reflection. Its own Origin Forme.
It was… itself.
In shock, Giratina froze. What did it mean, to stand in the real world and stare upon your own Origin Form?
It felt like a dream.
"ROOOOAAR!!"
The summoned Origin Giratina roared, scarlet light burning in its eyes. It was eager—no, hungry—to test itself against the other.
The old Giratina felt its chest tighten. That look, it was exactly the way it had once gazed upon rivals, long ago.
For the first time, it wavered. Should it still save the "two fools"?
"Roooar!!"
The natives, desperate, cried out again, begging it to act.
"ROOOOAR!!"
Giratina glanced once more at their pitiful forms.
And then—its resolve hardened.
Shadow energy burst from its body, dark wings flaring with spectral flame. At full power, it vanished in an instant.
Shadow Force!
Disappearing entirely, it prepared to reemerge in an unstoppable strike.
Across from it, the Origin Giratina's eyes flared. At once, it raised its guard, prepared to face itself.
The clash of Renegade Dragons was about to begin.
"Gaa–ga–ga~"
A minute passed. Dark clouds drifted over the horizon, a flock of Murkrow wheeling across the sky. Yet the shadowy form of Giratina did not reappear.
"…It seems Giratina fled."
Paul spoke the words no one wanted to hear.
"Wait, what…?"
Akari twitched at the mouth, stunned.
'All that build-up, all that pressure, as if Giratina was about to fight to the death—
And then it had just… used a move to run away?!'
"Arrooo!!"
The enemy's retreat enraged the Origin Giratina. With a roar of fury, it gathered power, vanishing into Shadow Force in a desperate attempt to drag out the cowardly dragon that dared deceive it.
But… after several tries, the Origin Giratina realized something strange.
'It couldn't enter the Distortion World at all. No matter how it pushed, it could only slip into shallow shadow-layers. The true passage was sealed, like a great door welded shut.'
"Don't bother. It won't work."
Paul shook his head lightly.
The ruined Hisui World and the Distortion World of the main timeline might appear connected, but their essence was different.
One was chaos without order.
The other, chaos masquerading as order.
The Hisuian Giratina was new here. The true master had closed the gateway entirely. For now, entry was impossible.
"Graaaah!"
Realizing this, the Origin Giratina grew manic, its rage with no outlet. At last its scarlet gaze swung toward the "two fools"—the battered native Dialga and Palkia.
It remembered well: had they not just urged Giratina to attack it?
Dark shadows spread across the sky. Outside Twinleaf Town, the world turned into a nightmarish Shadow Realm, as the Renegade Dragon lunged with outstretched claws at the helpless twins.
Their screams were swallowed by darkness. From the outside, nothing could be seen but black-violet chaos.
Seeing Giratina attack in earnest, the Origin Dialga and Origin Palkia immediately ceased their suppression and rushed to Paul and Akari's side, fearful that a moment's delay might cost the gods their lives.
"It's fine. As long as they don't die."
Paul remained calm. Even if the "two fools" were on the brink, Mew could carry them to the Tree of Beginning for healing.
Celebi, Xerneas, Ho-Oh… there were many ways to restore them.
"…Still, this is too brutal. Not good… not good at all."
Though hardened, Paul disliked needless slaughter. He instructed the Origin Twins to keep the native gods alive, then he and Akari flew toward the Space-Time Tower to check on Team Galactic.
The ruined tower was quieter than expected. Inside, not a sound stirred. The Galactic grunts lay scattered across the floor—out cold, sprawled like dead dogs.
"What the—why are they all asleep?"
Akari nudged one lightly. No response. If not for faint breathing, they might as well have been corpses.
"…Looks like they ticked off Darkrai."
Paul frowned. Against the Space-Time Twins themselves, Darkrai could hold its ground. Its enraged nightmare sleep might last hours, days—who knew?
He searched the ruins. No trace of Darkrai remained. Likely, once the matter was settled, it had slipped back into hiding.
"…Want me to wake them?"
Akari also owned a Darkrai, and with Cresselia's aid, breaking the nightmare wasn't difficult.
"No need. Let them sleep. Better that way."
Paul waved it off, then muttered to himself:
"You defended Twinleaf Town. You protected everyone's home. Well done."
"…Conflict breeds only disgust. Yet who can say when the next will come?"
"Next time, will you have the strength to protect yourself? Protect everyone? Protect this town?"
"…Perhaps."
"In the end, human or Pokémon, we all must move forward. Grow stronger."
"At my Veilstone Breeding House, if you wish to grow stronger—come. I'll be waiting."
With that, Paul pulled out his Pokégear, calling Officer Jenny as he headed out.
The tower fell silent once more. Shadows flickered like candlelight in the corners, then stilled.
Outside, in the fields of shadow, Giratina had withdrawn its claws. The battered native Dialga and Palkia now lay unconscious, unmoving—divinity stripped away.
"They're alive. That's all that matters. Send them back."
Paul released his Torterra, which provided basic healing. Then the Origin Twins carried the wounded gods back to their realms.
A year, perhaps longer, before those "two fools" dared stir again. For now, they would be quiet gods.
"The sun's setting. Time to go."
Glancing westward at the sinking light, Paul and Akari turned for home.
The rest—the aftermath, the cleanup would fall to the League and Officer Jenny. Paul had no interest.
"…So, Paul, what's next? The World Coronation Series Masters Eight still won't start for a while."
Akari asked lightly.
"…No real plan. First, rack up the ranking points and qualify. Then…" Paul hesitated. "After that, I might have to visit another world. I'm expecting a certain… event."
He wasn't sure yet. Beyond two personal matters, maybe he'd travel the regions, challenge the Legendary Pokémon he hadn't faced.
The Ho-Oh of Johto.
The Weather Trio of Hoenn.
The Creation Trio—(though perhaps best not again).
The forces of Unova…
So many legends remained. Worth seeking, worth testing.
And why not explore the Paldea region?
With Mew's help, Tera Crystals posed no issue. But Paldea's greatest curiosity wasn't crystals—it was its bizarre Pokémon.
He couldn't help but smile. To feel the speed of Miraidon or Koraidon beneath him, that would be something.
The more he thought, the clearer his path became.
Akari, however, tilted her head. "What event? You can foresee other worlds now?"
Paul's lips curved faintly.
"…A contest. A group, fighting over something… special."
(End of Chapter)
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