The Pantheon

Closing Ceremony

He stood still, dust clinging to his scales, wings heavy with soot and steam. Mars let his chest rise once—slowly. The battlefield still crackled in places, red heat trapped under the stone. Somewhere behind him, the crowd was catching up, voices starting to lift, louder and more confident now that they'd seen the flag raised.

But Mars didn't really hear it.

He was looking at the stadium, yes, but not really seeing it. Because his mind had already pulled back—not out of exhaustion, not even pride.

One year ago, he'd been a Charmander.

That part still felt strange. Not distant exactly, just different. Like remembering a life that belonged to someone else. He hadn't had a name back then. He'd just been one of the three—lined up in Professor Oak's lab, trying to stand straighter than the other two. Trying to look just a little more ready. Like it would help him get picked.

It did.

Ashley had walked in with that wild hair and a manic glint in her eyes, and she didn't hesitate. Not even a second. She looked at him, grinned, and that had been it.

She didn't just pick him. She named him.

Mars—the God of War. At the time, it felt like a big name for a little lizard. Now, standing in the center of the Indigo Plateau with steam still rising from his last move, Mars didn't feel like a lizard anymore.

He felt like exactly what she'd said he'd become.

But he hadn't done it alone. He'd never been alone.

First, there'd been Vulcan. Mars hadn't expected a best friend, but that's what he got. That big, fire-hearted Arcanine with a loud bark and soft temperament. He understood Mars in a way that didn't need words. They trained together. Fought together. Slept next to each other when the nights were cold.

Then came Neptune. He was older than them, and with that age came wisdom. Always the calm voice even when his storms weren't. Mars respected him. Still did. Neptune never raised his voice unless he meant it—and when he did, even the wind listened.

Venus came after that. And Proserpina. Two halves of something chaotic and graceful. Mars hadn't known what to make of them at first—Venus with her softness that hid a temper, and Proserpina with her dreamy eyes and poison dust. But they had a place in the Pantheon. They made the Pantheon.

And Apollo—the Pokémon from a pseudo-legendary line that would allow himself to be used as a scarf. Some would consider him docile, too soft to be a Dragonite. But Mars would fly beside him in a heartbeat and burn down whoever had angered their trainer.

Then came the kids. Mercury and Chione.

Mercury, all jittery feet and spark-slick arrogance. Mars had been annoyed by him at first. Now he couldn't imagine a day without that annoying little speedster showing off.

And Chione... She was a diva. A frozen, moonlight-haired diva who always acted like she was above them all. But when it mattered, she would always have their back. Mars respected that, more than he would ever admit out loud.

Then there were the last two.

The elders.

Pluto and Janus.

They'd come into the team with scars. Not the kind you could see—though Janus had those too—but the kind that didn't go away just because someone was kind to you. Mars hadn't trusted Janus at first. Not fully. The Lucario was quiet. Guarded. Too guarded.

Not to mention, he was still stuck in the past and loyal to his old master.

But then he'd sworn loyalty to Ashley. Accepted his place in the Pantheon and allowed himself to be named. So, Mars had let it go.