Pokémon Warrior: Lost Adventures

When the Dusknoir emerged from the forest it did so with an ethereal wind. The powerful Type Beast had a presence to it that demanded attention. Its aura was strong and stripped away the scant protection that he had. To his senses, the power was an endless fog that silenced all thought and action. The ghost brought with it a chill that dug into his bones to touch something deeper. Standing before the beast was the cold of the night, when mystics emerged to cast their spells and ward off ill spirits.

The sensation was entirely unlike Hallow, his mother's Gourgeist. When playing with the Pokémon he could feel a faint chill that raised his skin like a bird, the bumps and straighten hair making him shiver. Instead of alarm, he remembered feeling invigorated by the sensation. As if he were witnessing something he should not deep in the night.

When emerged and, at his mother's insistence, summoning specter's flame, the chill brought on by the Dusknoir turned to ice in his blood. No longer was he enjoying the cool night, full of forbidden rituals. Now it was the depths of winter, where an uncovered breath allowed the cold to steal its way inside.

The specters swarmed him at the Pokémon's direction, layering over his body like clothes of ice. The phantoms searched for his spirit, burrowing their way through his body. Each one another stone of water caving him in.

The exposed wraiths were too attractive of a target to ignore. His mother said it was a Dusknoir's path to escort the souls of the dead. The ghostly beast approached, stitching open the void inside itself, swallowed the specters.

And Kenji.

The screams of the village, people crying out for the homes and family. The bellows and cries of beasts fighting, whether to escape or defend themselves. It was all silenced, for there was nothing for him to hear.

The heat of the flames, distant though they were through the spiritual ice of the powerful ghosts was left behind completely. The caress of the grass, still wet from the morning water, as it tickled his skin. The sensations no longer touched his skin, for there was nothing to feel.

His mother's outstretched hand no longer reached for him, for he was no longer there.

The void was not black or cold as he expected it to be, at least not physically. For there to be dark, there had to be something. A space devoid of light or even just shadowed from the sun. Kenji could not even feel his body, so he did not know if it was shaking from cold or still from the absence of temperature. There was just.

Nothing.

Physically, at least.

Spiritually, Kenji was bombarded by screams of pain, wailing terror, and even sobs of relief. He was not sure how he could hear the desperate sounds. Some were deafening, more akin to the shaking of the earth, while others were a bare whisper at the nape of his neck.

Layered throughout the spiritual noise was another, more insidious sound. A stream of whispers that branched and flowed like the roots of a tree. The voices clung to the edge of understanding but fell too short to be truly comprehensible. The whispers begged, cajoled, and threatened, calling out for him to join them.

The spiritual cacophony struck at his condensed aura and threatened his focus on keeping it compacted. Kenji understood that if he had not crushed his aura as he did, then the strength of the spirits surrounding him would have torn it completely. Previously he was far too weak to fight. Now, he at least had a chance to endure.

The specters that invaded his body worked to both shield and smother his aura with their numbers. He suspected that they also disguised him from the surrounding spirits and the river of whispers. He was scared to think of what would happen if they discovered him.

Clinging to the remnants of his aura, he struggled to use it to suppress his spirit. Like a hibachi holding a flame, he had to contain the light and heat of his soul. Energy still leaked out, his level of control and weak aura preventing him from repressing it fully. Some Warriors could harness their spirit and aura separately, following the path of mystics.

He was not one of them.

Searching for the hints of presence, Hallow's specters covered him like a blanket trying to smother its owner. While some were still clawing around wildly others were being pulled away the soft muttering. They released their grip on him and followed the whispered promises to be swept away.

Seeing as he could do nothing, as any action he took risked unfolding his spirit, Kenji fell into a mindless state. It was easy in this place, where there was no physical feeling or distraction. The pangs of hunger never bothered him nor did he ever feel the urge to relieve himself. All that existed was the core of his being and the waves that sought to erode it away.

Using the shadow of aura and his will to compress his spirit became second nature, perhaps even first. He did not even breathe so there was nothing to do but tighten his existence.

Kenji did not know how time passed in the void. His hopes of rescue died, drained by the all-encompassing nothing. It seemed as though days crawled by in heartbeats while the bells flew by in seasons.

It was easier to judge the passage of time by sensing the spirits around him. He quickly realized that there was something different about him compared to the other spirits held within the void. The deranged specters took no notice of the others around them but those drifting along the trail of whispers slowed when they neared him. He felt the weight of their expansive forms on his soul but they were unable to locate his small spirit amongst the others smothering him. Soon they would give up and continue to flow away.

At times, there would be a sudden change as the whispers grew stronger and forcefully pulled the souls along. At first, the violent specters smothering his aura resisted the call of the indecipherable voices and the void would quiet once more. It was as though the energy filtering out sustained them enough that they could resist.

Then time would pass immeasurably.

More souls appeared and the pressure threatening his spirit of aura increased as his lethal protection peeled away. He grew better at containing himself, weakening the strength of his spirit and holding in the energy that fed the specters. Only those closest to him were able to sustain themselves while the more distance ghosts weakened.

When whispers rose to wild roars, their promises and suggestions turning to threats and rage, the weakened phantoms could no longer resist. They were dragged away with the other aimless souls and the void emptied. Leaving only Kenji and those clinging to him.

And the cycle continued.

All too quickly, or slowly, Kenji's shield against the whispers and the void was stripped down to nothing. While he was far better at controlling his spirit, he was not perfect. His aura, gone without the Type Energy to maintain it, bared his soul. He was exposed to the devouring void and subtle whispers.

They took notice.

The slivers of sound split, stopped for the first time. In shock, in pleasure, or in greed he did not know. Sound exploded around him as the river shifted in sudden turbulence. Waves rose to shattering screams of fury and dropped to low moans of greed.

Kenji felt the discordant noise rush towards him. The river flooded and he knew that there was no avoiding its pull any longer. Unable, or uncaring, to act he waited for the end to take him.

NO

The void shielded him from the madness.

Kenji could feel its hunger, its desire to join the screams and moans. To tear at his soul and consume him completely. As the specters fed off him to survive and grow, so too could the spiritual beast. It could leave him here, gathering others to leech their souls to fuel its own.

Kenji could also feel the void's rejection, its steel control of the hunger that pervaded the emptiness. This was not a path the beast would follow, no matter the power it could obtain. The maddening insanity of the spiritual waves struck the barrier of the void. Their strength was nothing compared to the beast's own and it easily diverted the river away.

BEGONE

In front of Kenji, a glowing thread appeared. The golden fabric, as bright as the first rays of dawn, stitched a jagged crack in the nothing before him. The crooked mouth widened, leaving threads of bright gold to form a cage in the wide smile. The void wrapped around him, cradling his body. The opening approached and Kenji was passed through the thin beams of light. The agonizing cacophony behind him was kept from escaping by the golden stitching holding the mouth closed. It pressed at the fabric in its attempts to follow, stretching out the threads.

After so long in the empty dark, devoid of all his senses, the return to a world of light, sound, and feeling was overwhelming. The darkest shadow was blinding and the brushing wind was agony on his skin and ears. Consumed by the sensations bombarding him, Kenji was blinded and deafened. The shock was enough to still his mind. When he recovered enough to recognize that he could feel his body, Kenji jerkily curled up into a ball to better shield his eyes and ears. His knees were pressing into his eyes as his arms held them together while hands covered his ears.

Wheezing sobs shook his body as his mind focused on crushing his aura. It was unnecessary as his aura was long since remolded to form a perfectly smooth sphere slightly larger than a seed. Instead, the automatic action was Kenji's sole method of coping with his paralyzing sensitivity. His lungs burned as he forgot to breathe, gasping out and choking, as he focused only on hiding himself.

Time passed, and his soul refamiliarized itself with his body. Like a Warrior fresh to ranking up, his spirit moved expecting the body to follow. Slowly, he found himself able to breathe easier and he no longer choked on saliva. His mind was able to process and register what his senses were telling him but, after so long in the empty void, it continued to put him off balance.

Like this, Kenji finally fell into a slumber and slept for the first time in forever. It was not the sleep of the exhausted or the living, one looking to wake to the next time. It was the slumber of one dead to the world who no longer cared for what came next.

No dream or nightmare disturbed him until a painful growl made its displeasure known. Kenji jerked awake as another snarl of rage sounded out. Clenching his eyes shut, he curled up into a tighter ball and pressed down on his spirit. If he could force his presence smaller, then perhaps the attacking spirit would lose track of him and disappear.

The growl came again and Kenji flinched in alarm.

Rocking on the ground, Kenji came to realize that he was the source of the painful snarling. Wheezing softly, he tried to force the hunger pains to silence but his body refused to listen. His stomach continued to rumble intermittently but oddly the ache worked to comfort him.

If he could feel hunger, then he could feel his body.

If he could feel his body, then he was no longer trapped in the endless nothing that was the void containing mad specters that sought to consume him.

Kenji's mind shied away from the debilitating memories and focused on the hunger paining him. Twitching his limbs, he slowly opened his eyes but kept a tight grip on his spirit. His vision was blurry at first but it slowly adjusted.

The first thing he saw was his legs, still covered by protective leathers. The apron was worn by use and covered in soil. The sight of them threatened to send him spiraling as tears blurred his vision. He remembered his mother helping him don them as she quietly grumbled complaints.

The rumble from his stomach brought him back and Kenji jerked his head up to inspect his surroundings.

His eyes were greeted by the rough bark of a towering tree with roots that clawed their way into the soil. Ferns and other small plants grew out of the soil with wild abandon. He followed the thick trunk upwards where a wide canopy intermingled with the surrounding trees.

As Kenji studied his surroundings, his awe with the powerful trees allowed him to temporarily forget his experience. Such specimens were only found on his kingdom's most protected lands, belonging to the noble clans and the Warlord himself.

They would not kindly forgive his trespass.

Kenji started to shake once more and clamped down on his spirit to reassure himself that he was as hidden as he could be. Glancing around nervously, as if expecting an angry Warrior to attack, he registered the calls of the creatures filling the forest.

Few of them were familiar to him. He only recognized the piercing cries of the predator birds found in Aurora. They were a constant nuisance but helped the younger members of their species were useful for clearing out pests.

The only issue is that it was highly unlikely they would be found in the protected forests of Greenleaf.

There were other stranger calls, chittering squeaks as some beast raced through the tree tops. Melodic buzzes as if one were playing some unfamiliar instrument. The sounds were far off, as if the beasts were fearful of coming near.

He did not recognize the beastly cries but that was not overly surprising. Kenji did not often travel to other lands and the few times he did so was under his father's strict supervision. The Warrior would never allow his only son to wander too far without a bond to protect him.

Now Kenji wished his father would step out from behind the wide trunks and scold him for his carelessness.

He uncurled on the ground floor and struggled to sit up. His body was weak without his aura supporting him and the time spent in non-existence only served to weaken him further. Whether it was the lack of food or something stranger, his body was slow to move.

Kenji grunted as he managed to sit up. His muscles were sore and unresponsive but managed to transition to a wobbling stand with the help of a nearby stick. The fallen branch was rotting and threatened to break but it supported him enough.

The uneven forest floor was filled with fallen leaves, tripping roots, and rotting detritus. Kenji stumbled to the nearest tree and caught himself against the rough bark. Breathing deeply, he flexed his legs and tried to stretch as his father taught him. To his dismay he found that his limbs were barely able to fully extend let alone do even a quarter of the sweat inducing stretches he did nearly every day. This more than anything proved to him how bad of a condition his body was in.

Wincing from the pain, Kenji stumbled from tree to tree. Inspecting his surroundings, he searched for anything to eat. After the seventh tree, he spotted a large bush that was spotted with fruit. The pink orbs stuck out against the green of the plant and caught his attention as he looked around.

Approaching the plant, he snatched one off the stem and bit into the firm fruit without bothering to peel it. Most berries were edible, skin and all, and a short glance revealed none of the signs he was accustomed to that would indicate poison or danger.

The sweet juice flooded his mouth and he hungrily chewed on the tough skin. Kenji felt hard seeds crack and hurriedly spat them out before he swallowed the tough shards. After taking another bite, he fumbled at the fruit in his hands to pick out the seeds. Spitting them out was wasting time that could be spent chewing.

Stuffing his face with the berry, Kenji tore another from the plant and began to rip it apart to pull out the hard seeds. The berry was sweet and left a slight sour aftertaste that kept it from being overpowering. Altogether it only served to encourage Kenji to eat more until his stomach was no longer terrorizing him.

Only after eating several of the fruits did he slow enough to come back to his senses. His rough movements had broken several of the plants fruit bearing branches and left them dangling. He felt shame curl in his stomach but ultimately, he did not have the energy to truly care.

He hesitated only a moment, but after eating as much as he could, Kenji reached out and broke off the branches containing several of the fruits each. By keeping them on the stem, they would hopefully last longer and he would be able to carry more at a time.

He had to drop the long branch serving as a walking stick but he considered it a worthwhile trade. The added weight forced him take stop more often but he used the breaks to inspect the forest around him.

The cries still bounced off the trees but he had yet to see any of the creatures that created them. It was not overly surprising considering that a powerful ghost had recently appeared and released him. Standing up, from his latest break Kenji paused as he was tossing aside the remains of his snack.

"wur"

Jerking his head around, he searched for the source of the noise. For him to hear it clearly, the creature had to be nearby.

"Wur"

When the cry came again, it was accompanied by a series of small pops. Expecting the noise this time, Kenji was able to locate the beast with ease. The only problem was where it was coming from.

Raising his eyes upwards, Kenji felt them widen as saw the crawling Pokémon.

Crawling down the tree with small pops was a large worm. Its body was a ridged red with bright yellow spike protruding from between its eyes. There were two more poking out from the opposite end.

Kenji scrambled away from the bug, dragging the berry laden branches behind him. The creature's bright colors were a reasonable indicator of poison and the defensive spike confirmed it. He would not be surprised if they were able to detach to fire at perceived threats.

Threats such as a young man stumbling away from it in fear.

Only when he had several trees between him and the large worm, did Kenji remember the thick leathers covering his body. They would not protect him completely but they would blunt the sting of the Pokémon's spikes. It would do nothing for the poison but there was likely some berries that he could forage to create a simple poultice. It would be weaker than anything he could buy the village shop but it would be better than nothing.

Kenji briefly considered returning to catch the worm but discarded the thought. He was in no shape to fight a Pokémon, even a weak one, not to mention to risk of the poison contaminating the Pokémon's meat should he not harvest it properly.

He continued to stumble through the forest before discovering a small hollow formed by twisting roots that had risen above the soil. Hiding behind a tree, he inspected the hollow from afar.

The small hovel reminded him of how some Pokémon use their power to manipulate the world and create small dens. The skill was energy intensive so it was not often done, but such shelters were more durable and hidden than naturally formed ones.

When Kenji did not see any movement, he slowly approached to study the root den closer.

The roots bent and twisted unnaturally, encouraging his theory that it was formed by some beast, but there was no hint of the energy used to do so. Small marks inside showed where the Pokémon's claws tore at the roots. It was possible that creating the wooden den drained the creature enough that it was unable to mark its territory with its aura. The floor of the small shelter was covered in leaves and dirt. There was some grass struggling to grow that further indicated the den was abandoned.

He leaned back and looked around the forest once more. When he was reassured there was nothing around, he set his foraged berries inside and crawled in after. The hovel was tight and uncomfortable to lay in but it felt familiar to Kenji in a dark and twisted way.

After the immeasurably time spent devoid of his senses and continuously collapsing his spirit, the small root den was practically paradise.

Only when night fell and the dark grow to hide the forest did Kenji feel the first flickers of terror. The moon was large enough to offer the smallest hints of light and he was able to stop his slide into memory.

He would not return to the void.

Never again.

No matter the cost.