There was no grace in this transition.
This wasn't a smooth teleportation, or a gentle materialization. It was impact—brutal, violent, and utterly unforgiving. Blue hit the ground hard, dirt and ash grinding into his palms, the rough earth scraping against his skin. The air around him burned in his lungs, thick with choking smoke and the acrid stench of fire.
He coughed violently, eyes watering as he forced himself upright, heart hammering in his chest. The world stretched out before him, a barren wasteland cloaked beneath a flat, lifeless gray sky.
The landscape was dead.
Charred trees, their branches skeletal and broken, clawed futilely at the overcast heavens. The remnants of buildings stood like jagged teeth, melted steel twisted and concrete crumbling into ruin. The entire city was draped in ash and ruin, the faint glow of embers flickering among the rubble. The scent of scorched earth mixed with something darker—something feral and raw.
Nearby, half-buried in the ash and dust, lay a battered sign. The letters were faded, almost erased by time and destruction.
Aspertia City.
Not a city anymore.
More like a tomb.
Blue's voice was barely a whisper as he brushed the grime from his sleeves. "What the hell happened here…?"
No signs of life greeted him. Not yet.
Then, cutting through the eerie silence, came a howl.
Not a normal cry, but something warped—twisted by static and rage, as if the very sound itself had been corrupted. The howl echoed down the broken road, carrying a primal hunger that clawed at his senses. It was quickly followed by distant screams and the thunderous rumble of collapsing concrete.
Then footsteps.
Fast. Desperate. Erratic.
Blue turned sharply, just in time to see a figure barreling through the choking mist. Long rose-pink hair whipped wildly behind her, torn and singed flight gear flapping with her every frantic step. Her piercing blue eyes were locked on something behind her, filled with a fierce, unyielding determination.
Skyla.
"Get down!" she barked sharply, not even sparing him a glance.
Instinctively, Blue dropped to the ground just as a monstrous Arcanine burst from the smoke, its eyes glowing a sick, unnatural red. The beast's jaws snapped inches from Blue's head, saliva flying as it roared, a terrifying sound that seemed to shake the very air.
Skyla rolled to the side, barely avoiding the deadly strike. Her Swanna reacted instantly, unleashing a rapid stream of Bubble Beam that slammed into the beast's flank with bone-jarring force.
There was blood. Actual, vivid blood.
The Arcanine yelped—a raw, broken sound unlike anything Blue had ever heard—and vanished back into the burning forest.
Blue rose slowly, stunned—not by the attack, but by the brutal savagery of the world around him.
"What in Mew's name is going on?"
Skyla didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed his arm with surprising strength.
"You're either with us, or you're dead. Decide now."
Blue blinked, caught off guard. "Where's 'us'?"
She didn't slow down. "The last damn hideout standing."
Fifteen tense minutes later, they arrived at what remained of Floccesy Town—or whatever this ruined shell could still claim to be.
The outskirts were ringed with rusted barricades, twisted metal, and collapsed Pokémon Centers hastily welded together with scrap and desperate hope. Thick smoke billowed from smoldering rooftops, dark clouds blending into the oppressive sky.
Inside the battered heart of the town, three women waited.
Elesa stood tall, her once-glamorous clothes shredded and stained with grime and blood. She gripped what looked like a makeshift voltage cannon, cobbled together from a Rotom fused with a car battery. Her sharp, unwavering stare cut through the dim light like a blade.
Caitlin sat cross-legged on a bent metal crate, wild hair framing her pale face. Her bloodshot eyes pulsed with an unstable psychic aura that flickered like a faulty neon light—dangerous and unpredictable. Despite her disheveled appearance, her posture radiated undeniable authority.
And then there was Rosa.
The girl Blue remembered from his world—the hopeful, bright-eyed Champion-to-be. But this Rosa was different. Her jacket was torn, her face bruised and hardened, her eyes steely and cold like flint. She bore the look of someone who had killed to survive—and had long since stopped counting.
"Who the hell is this guy?" Elesa demanded, her voice hoarse but commanding.
Blue opened his mouth, trying to speak—trying to understand.
Because standing before him were four of Unova's strongest women. They were battle-hardened and broken, warriors forged in fire, holding this shattered world together by sheer force of will.
And he was just… dropped right into the middle of it.
Suddenly, a thought clicked.
That brief glint of recognition he'd caught before the portal closed—the sly wink from Palkia.
That arrogant, interdimensional dragon had planned this.
Blue's eye twitched.
This wasn't just some alternate universe.
This was post-apocalyptic Unova.
A world of broken societies, ruined cities, and a handful of fierce, beautiful women leading a ragged resistance.
This wasn't just another region.
This was an anime.
A grimdark, end-of-the-world, harem isekai anime.
Blue let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
"Where did this guy even come from?" Caitlin's voice was sharp, edged with suspicion as her eyes locked onto Blue, scrutinizing him like a strange, alien creature.
Skyla puffed out her cheeks in frustration, crossing her arms. "I found him standing right in the middle of the street," she said. "Just… standing there, like the world hadn't ended a year ago."
Elesa's sharp gaze flickered with cold disdain. "And you thought it was a good idea to bring him back here? Have we all forgotten what happened the last time we took in some random man?"
Skyla groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "Yes, the last guy turned out to be a bastard—no denying that. But back then, there were still other men alive! This one… he literally appeared out of nowhere."
Rosa narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, stepping closer to Blue. "Look at his clothes. They're clean. Practically untouched. Not a scratch on them."
Blue cleared his throat awkwardly, raising one hand. "I'm right here, you know."
Caitlin blinked, stunned by his polite interjection. "He insists on being polite," she muttered. "No one's spoken with manners in years."
"Maybe he's been hiding in some forgotten hole for the last decade," Skyla suggested, "and just now crawled out."
Elesa snorted softly. "Or maybe he's just absurdly lucky to have survived all this chaos without even realizing it."
Rosa hesitated, eyes flickering with uncertainty. "Or maybe…" she said quietly, "he's actually strong enough to survive this madness."
All four women turned to Blue at once, their stares sharp, intense, almost predatory.
"Are you strong?" Elesa demanded, voice low and commanding.
Blue blinked.
They were completely insane.
But if there was one immutable truth in the world of Pokémon—one thing that defined Blue Oak above all else—it was this:
He was the best. Like no one ever was.
And these wild, desperate women? They respected only one thing—raw, relentless strength.
"Alright," Blue said coolly, a spark lighting behind his eyes. "You want to see if I'm strong? Fine. I'll show you."
With that, he turned sharply and strode out of the hideout, leaving the four women blinking in stunned silence.
Skyla muttered, one brow raised. "I take it back. He is a madman."
Elesa gave a faint, grudging nod. "A madman with conviction."
Rosa blushed, cheeks tinged with pink. "That exit… it was strangely attractive."
The other three stared at her in disbelief.
"What?" Rosa huffed, folding her arms. "It's been years since I saw a man with white teeth!"
"Fair," they said in unison, before following the reckless stranger out into the ruined world beyond.
———
The ground trembled beneath them as a massive form crashed down beside Blue. Steam hissed from twin cannons mounted on broad armored shoulders, the earth splitting under the weight of the colossal Blastoise. Its deep, glowing eyes locked forward, burning with battle hunger.
"How much do we want to impress today, buddy?"
"BLASTOISE!" The giant turtle roared, steam swirling like smoke from a furnace.
Blue grinned, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. "Kanto team only today. Gotta represent home—even if we're half a universe away in some blasted hellscape."
He produced five more Poké Balls from his jacket, each shimmering with latent power.
The second Pokémon appeared in a flicker of light—a violet, star-shaped form hovering effortlessly in the ash-choked air. Its red core pulsed rhythmically, golden rings glinting faintly with psychic energy.
Starmie.
Next came Lapras, the ocean's gentle giant. Her long neck rose proudly, deep blue skin shimmering faintly beneath layers of mist. Though her shell was worn and battle-scarred, it gleamed like an ancient fortress.
Then a serpentine sea dragon coiled calmly, muscles taut and gills flexing with precision. Kingdra scanned the battlefield with razor focus, every breath measured, every movement deliberate.
Poliwrath was next—round, powerful, fists clenched and twitching with anticipation. His spiral belly pulsed with raw energy; the stance of a born brawler, already bouncing in place, hungry for combat.
Finally, with a primal roar that shattered the silence, Gyarados burst forth. The serpentine leviathan's golden underbelly glinted like a war drum beneath flickering firelight. The earth itself seemed to recoil as the monstrous dragon unleashed a terrifying, guttural cry.
Behind Blue, Rosa, Caitlin, Skyla, and Elesa stood frozen—eyes wide with disbelief.
"He has a full team of six," Rosa whispered, barely able to breathe the words aloud.
"How… how haven't they been infected?" Caitlin murmured. "How is this even real?"
"We barely held on to one each," Elesa said, voice trembling. "This should be impossible."
But impossible didn't wait.
From the shattered treetops and billowing smoke, a piercing screech tore through the air—high, sharp, and murderous.
Corrupted Pokémon poured forth like a living tide. Their eyes burned with feral red light; bodies convulsed in virus-driven rage. Hundreds surged out of the shadows—Mightyena snarling, foaming at the jaws; Crobat shrieking in chaotic clouds overhead; Zebstrika and Herdier pounding forward like war drums, hooves striking the broken ground.
They moved not with instinct, but fury—wild, broken, and berserk.
A relentless, screaming tidal wave of madness barreling toward the world's last fragile light.