Prologue: Contract

10 Years (1 Myth-Year) Ago…

…I had one thought in my head, “Today was the day I would become bound by my contract.” One-hundred-and-one years wasn’t exactly an optimal age for a Zeraora like myself to be under contract; sadly, the system had to make an exception in my case. My predecessor left this existence when I was but a small hatchling. In some ways, I wondered if I was a burden to these folks because of the circumstances.

I entered a private room within one of those remote cave systems. The room really didn’t stand out much at all. The only objects there were the essentials, a table, several candles and vents, and a singular chair. The reason? The contractor I was meeting was Zygarde in all his serpentine glory. Next to him was a canine pokemon colored in his likeness. I heard Zygarde had servants of some kind, but it struck me as weird to see them with my own eyes. With a little anxiety, I sat at the table while still maintaining eye contact; it was kind of hard to do that since he had multiple hexagons for eyes.

Without hesitation, the serpent began to speak in an almost robotic tone. “Let us begin by saying, congratulations. You have proven yourself to be useful. Both by combat and from what your guardian has told me.” The serpent proceeded to lean over the table with what I thought was a serious glare. Seriously, does he not want anyone reading his expression? “I- We are however, a little anxious about your mentality,” he said.

I shrank back in my seat. “What do you mean?” I asked nervously.

“It’s simple,” Zygarde stated as he straightened up. “Being as young as you are, we worry that you may act in a…defiant way. Nevertheless, we will grant you your contract.”

The serpent gave a quiet whistle before the canine used its scarf thing to take hold of something.

Raising the scarf upward, the canine showed a coiled scroll that unwound itself on the table in front of me. At the edge of this contract was a small feather quill.

Zygarde spoke once more, “As you were told many times, you will sign away your nickname and be referred to as your species name, Zeraora.”

I barely listened as I eagerly grabbed the quill with my right hand. As I did so, the canine stopped me by wrapping its scarf around my right wrist tightly, causing me to flinch and nearly drop the quill. I glanced at Zygarde, who was now glaring at me.

The serpent sighed before calmly explaining, “However, I must be clear with you on this. You must know that as a mythical, as a legendary, you are to take responsibility for all of your actions. Do you understand?” The gargantuan serpent leaned over the table once more, likely staring into my eyes as he said those words. Even after all I did to prove myself, I practically never left the exam…in fact, it may have been continuing.

I pressed my teeth together as I processed the guardian’s words. This was no longer training, I was going to be given the sacred duty of preserving the world’s balance alongside everyone else. I’ve always known that, I’ve been told that all my life. Nevertheless, I nod with a serious expression. The canine loosened its grip and freed my hand. I was pretty sure they bought it.

I skimmed through the fine print. The text was hardly impressive; there were a lot of rules, simple procedures and duties to perform, and finally there were the laws that applied to every legendary, whether it would be a time-space deity or someone as carefree as Victini. At the bottom was just the dotted line that would become the catalyst for my new life. I signed my nickname before putting down the quill.

When I was finished I took one last look of the name I signed away, Galvan. Galvan, the name my own guardian called me during my younger years. Something made me wince as I stared at the name; it was a very slight bit of movement, but evident nonetheless. My thought was interrupted as the paper rolled itself back up. There was no turning back now, the life I knew before was over. From that point onward, Galvan was dead and in his place stood myself. My name was now Zeraora the Fourth, mythical pokemon of the Electric type.

Afterwards, Zygarde dismissed me from the room and I left without another word. To be honest, though it was sad to see my old life of childhood ignorance go away, but at the same time, I figured it was the beginning of something great. I thought, (“That was rather grim, but you know what? I’ll just take the job with pride! Yeah! This is meant to be a good thing”).

With that thought in mind, I began to dash, eager to see what awaited me in my new life…

Present Day…

After a long day of work and stress, I was about ready to rest for the night. As I laid down, I thought about the day I first went under contract. I couldn’t believe I used to act so differently before. How could I even think that way? I then sighed and thought to myself, (“What a fool I was for thinking that. Pitiful…just pitiful”).

One would think someone who’s at least a century old would be a little more mature, but no…no, that’s not how life works for a mythical, let alone a legendary. Though we age more slowly than the common folk, that slowed speed also applies to our maturity. More accurately, the slow legendary aging process varies by species. Some like the time-space deities get a free pass either because they are way too important or they have no foreseeable end to their lifespan (hard to say if that’s a good thing). Then there are folks like myself who eventually bite the dust (which is almost everybody else).

Even still, our lifespans are so long that those of us mortal ones decided to invent a new measure for our age. Myth-years, that was the measure we (Zekrom) decided for ourselves. (Really though, it’s just a fancy way of saying decades, but nobody wants to admit that because of their “pride as legendaries.” Freaking Zekrom! Just admit it’s stupid already!) Nevertheless, 100 years is really the measure’s “equivalent” to a 10-year-old. It’s not that accurate in the grand scheme of things; a Lugia at the age of 100 years is really about 26 in terms of the common folk, while a Zeraora at that age is about 16; it doesn’t really excuse my behavior though. Special care and maturity on the job is vital. One wrong move and the consequences are catastrophic, both for the perpetrator and the world. Now is an especially tense time with the rise of natural disasters in the Air Continent.

To think I thought this duty would be fun. Nonetheless, I was proven wrong and that’s it. Nothing more, nothing else mattered but one thing, the purpose I was given. Looking back at the past was just asking for trouble. Sure, that made me a bit distant, but it was for the better.

All I needed was a little distance while I did my job in the shadows. That was what we’re supposed to be doing after all, so nobody else would get hurt.

Fragment of Knowledge:

Contract of Purpose:

Even before common folk began recording history, all legendaries were required to be bound to their duty and purpose through the use of this sacred contract. This measure was created in order to ensure all of the legendaries stay within their assigned domain (Land, Sea, Sky, etc.) and preserve the balance of the world. To complement the vast variety of life-styles, mortal legendaries and mythicals are required to sign away their nickname of youth as a symbol of inheriting the duty and purpose of their predecessor. This contract makes organizing the historic records of legendaries convenient with the use of numbers. However, the numbers are only assigned to those born after the invention of these contracts (Predecessors born before are left unrecorded as a result).