Strife of Mere Immortals

Why do you still persist?

Yes, why do I?

It's been...decades, centuries, millennia, none of them can touch it. It's been long.

It's been a long time since when we were still the same as the rest of them, since when there were only a few pokemon.

The humans wonder at the mythical pokemon, search for them on occasion. The pokemon merely remember. Wouldn't they be surprised to know the truth?

Celebi. That's a good one. I remember the stories Mother used to tell about the mew named Serebii who could travel through time and control plants. And only very minor touches this time, just barely enough to prevent anyone confusing you with a mew or any of our other forms.

Not that we even need to bother. It's been too long. They only remember the most recent of our incarnations. I could come to them in a form I've already used...but that's not how the game is played, is it? You've chosen your form, so I must choose one that will have an advantage.

How long has it been, since you and I were mere mortals, just average little creatures, nothing distinguishing us from the rest of our race. Did your way require the sacrifices of mine, or did you find a better one? Or a worse one. I wouldn't put it past you. I wouldn't put it past myself. How many would it have taken, truly? How many more had to die then was needed? And at what number would I have stopped and decided it was too much?

Maybe never. There would always be more kabuto, I thought. Whereas I...I would be here for eternity. They would die anyway, so what did it matter if death came sooner or later?

That was probably your thought too. Or maybe not. I scarcely even bothered to justify it to myself. I'm not even sure if I did, or if that came later.

But I messed up. So did you. Because there was only supposed to be one. My achievement, your achievement, it didn't matter, we were both immortal.

We fought, accomplished nothing. So we rallied the other pokemon to our cause. Mews were gone by then. We each claimed to be gods, turned our petty feud into a holy war. They fought, and fought, and died, and we called for more, endlessly, until at last the pokemon rebelled against us.

And were in turn killed. At last we stood in the ashes of the battleground, the few remaining cursing us even with their dying breathes, and realized they would not follow us again.

Realized that, and only that. I should say I realized the cost of it all, was horrified, retreated because of that, but I did not. I left because there was no one left to fight at all, even if I could make them follow me.

We retreated, we trained, we grew stronger. The pokemon bred and filled the world again.

We stumbled upon it at the same time, I think. Each of us thinking we had the other beat. And so I rose as the mighty rock demon, Blarock and you as the powerful dragon Seratine. If I'd remembered, if you'd remembered, how each had been one of our favorites, perhaps you or I would have chosen a form with an advantage over the myth and perhaps it would have ended then. But neither of us did. Again, we called the pokemon to us. And again, they followed.

And again, the two armies merely destroyed each other.

We repeated this, again and again. Sometimes my army would win, and the survivors attempt to attack you directly. You destroyed them. Sometimes your army would win, and the survivors attempt to attack me directly. I destroyed them.

And again we would retreat, and again the pokemon would forget, and again we would appear to lead them into death.

Odd that immortality would lead to such a carelessness with the lives of others. But considering how it all began, it isn't surprising.

We never could manage to kill each other, on our own or with an army behind us. The futility of it all......I realize it now. How it was accomplishing nothing but death. We have overseen the genocide of entire races in our lifetimes. We were simply dragging everyone else into the struggle. It accomplishes nothing to fight, and less to fight with thousands being lead to the slaughter.

I think I'll be Doomsday this time. Remember him? Not a very imaginative name, but the stories Mother used to tell about him...fitting, isn't it, for the fire/dark, bringer of the apocalypse, to fight the grass/psychic guardian of eternity.

You don't have many choices. You were sloppy, to try choose your form first in the hopes of rallying your army first. You will only have two choices, try to destroy my army as I build it even with the type disadvantage, or simply give up and start raising a new one in a new form, with me telling them all you are a false god. It will be hard either way. Yes, perhaps you've finally made a great enough error and I'm finally experienced enough to use it to my greatest advantage.

Now it's your move, my dear twin.