His journey is over. At the young age of nineteen, Ash has done it all. He is the very best, like nobody ever was. Eight regions conquered and explored, championships lost and won, and the grandest title of them all.
Finally, A Pokemon Master.
On...
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Dedicated towards the legacy of Ash Ketchum.
Now, once, forever, a Pokemon Master.
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Disclaimer: Mature Rating.
May contain explicit descriptions of violence, mature language, drug use, sexual endeavours. Viewer discretion is advised.
Thank you for reading. If you have any questions/inquiries about the story, leave them here. I will respond to all reasonable comments. :)
Please enjoy.
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Frigid rain rapidly tapped against the ground below, falling from the dark, low rolling clouds that hung just overhead. Thunder permeated through the cacophony of sounds that littered the empty arena, slicing through the cool evening air. With every crash of Arceus's rage, the storm grew closer, and it echoed across the seats of the stadium, bouncing upon every barren surface and tattered grass field.
"You haven't changed a bit, you're just as pathetic as the day I last saw you."
Ash understood his words, but they failed to hold any meaning other than pure betrayal. His head hurt from the sudden barrage of emotion, and he found himself writhing underneath the stone cold glare of his once league rival, all those years ago.
His Pikachu panted heavily, and found itself unable to catch its own breath, while the Darkrai across from it zipped around, unfazed by the flurry of attacks that had been wasted upon it.
"Dark Pulse."
His heart rate increased, and he felt that sense of pride slowly grip from his slick oily hands. He wanted to yell for his Pikachu, his trustworthy partner. His best friend.
His vocal cords failed him.
The dark energy slammed into the wounded pokemon. It flew back and into him, knocking the wind out of his stomach. Ash gripped onto the electric mouse, looking down horrified at the damage inflicted upon it. "Why...How could you...?"
The mouse didn't move. It's beady black eyes now cold and grey.
"Should I bow in your presence, your highness? Oh, how far you've fallen, old king."
"What do you want?" Ash asked, only to be met by the same distant gaze. He looked up into the piercing grey eyes tore further into his soul, ripping apart the tiny amount fleeting confidence that he had managed to feign.
"I was sent here to take care of you. You abandoned the league, and they decided they too, wanted a fresh start." The man raised his hands in the air, and swung them dramatically. "Now imagine this: Ash Ketchum, Great Monarch, dies tragically in accident. The world mourns. Now that's something truly newsworthy."
