Chapter 80: A Revaulting Situation

These Overseer guys really want me keeping up with these audio diaries. All part of the healing and adjustment process, they say.

But healing from what? Leaving my home? Since we struck that deal, I’ve had time to mentally prepare myself. I knew this would be a big change. And change and I tend to go together like ice cream and horseradish. Which I only tried on a dare, for the record!

… Wait, what am I saying? No one’s going to listen to these but me.

Gah, c’mon. Focus, dummy. You’re supposed to be talking about what it’s been like in this Overworld place. Deep breaths.

Right. Okay. So, like, it’s really abstract and esoteric. Still haven’t pieced together how the Overworld works or anything. I’ve seen a fair few Overseers. Some of them give off the vibe they know me. Or heard of me. Apparently, there are actually a few reformed Dark Matters amongst this group. So, uh, that’s something. And a couple of ’em go by “Diyem,” which is, like, the kind of dumb name I’d come up with for a pokémon I caught in one of the games way back when I was human. Whatever floats their boats, I suppose.

If I’m being honest, it kinda feels like I’m back in high school. Except I’m the new kid who transferred in in the middle of the semester.

Despite the countless voices stacked atop one another, the Butterfree Effect’s words were sickeningly sweet. Somewhere in the back of Yuna’s mind, she knew to expect them when the warning about the latest anomaly blared up. Just not this soon.

Then again, this was the fastest she’d located a core. Sort of.

“It is as I said before.” Butterfree Effect folded their hands behind their back. “Even with an early arrival, our meeting was written into the stars.”

Yuna frowned. Wasn’t the whole reason they sent Walking Wake after her to avoid this. “But you tried to kill me and my friends.”

“Whether your drakloak shell won or lost that battle mattered not,” Butterfree Effect responded. “The end result was always another meeting. No matter what questions you conjure, the answers still lead to a single outcome.”

She strained to stop her tail from lashing at Butterfree Effect. Yuna wasn’t interested in retreading their tired riddles. If this was another projection, they couldn’t do anything to her, anyway.

“Okay. Well, glad to satisfy your predictions,” Yuna deadpanned. “Enjoy standing in this dark hallway alone.”

As she floated past, however, Butterfree Effect cut back in front of her. They hadn’t taken any steps. Moved any muscles.

… Did they even have muscles?

Guess the projections can teleport.

“Returning to your puppet’s friends?” Butterfree Effect nudged up their mask. “You can brainstorm all you want. It won’t change your situation. Or this world’s fate.”

There was that Xeromus-esque claim about futility. Yuna continued silently down the hall. Again, Butterfree Effect warped in her path.

“They’ve heightened security for this event.” Butterfree Effect’s mask rippled. Yuna thought she saw emergency lights flickering inside it. “Because the previous gold medalist disappeared suddenly and unexpectedly.”

Yuna took a deep breath to keep her shadows in check. Though still pooled around the base of her tail, they were at least behaving themselves. “I bet you had something to do with it.”

“How flattering.” Butterfree Effect was amused, despite their distorted voice. “However, I am as much a bystander in this as you.” Static encircled their arceus-like hair. A strange red and white hat with an unfinished triangle appeared atop their head. “They claim this young man was ‘betrayed’ by those he thought closest to him. And then he vanished in the aftermath.”

Butterfree Effect snapped their fingers. Static pulses ate away at their hat, replacing it with the arceus hairdo once more. “Perhaps such a tale makes you nostalgic, Yaldabaoth?”

A powerful tug gripped Yuna’s lower half. For a moment, her vision blurred. Clear blue skies painted over the hallway. A wrecked temple with jagged, broken pillars grew further away from Yuna.

She squeezed her eyes shut and smushed her cheeks with her hands. “No idea what you’re talking about,” Yuna said, doing her best to wear a stern expression.

The Butterfree Effect sighed. “As predicted.” They folded their hands behind their back again. “You’re right. It’s not an entertaining tale. In fact, I’ve seen 3,741 worlds just like this. And they have all turned out the same way.”

Yuna fixed her gaze on the door leading back down to the sewers. Would Butterfree Effect follow her there if she left?

“Stagnation. Decay.” The projection popped into Yuna’s line of sight. “Left to wither away into nothing.”

The drakloak headed forward again. She drifted left, thinking the projection would move to cut her off. Except Butterfree Effect didn’t. So, when she swerved right, they were there. Standing right in front of her and nudging at their mask.

“You are an open book, Yaldabaoth.” Their mask rippled. Yuna thought she saw a reflection of her own inky black shadows in it. “Your moves are as predictable as your inability to accept the truth.”

Yuna finally spat some dragonfire at Butterfree Effect. It washed over the projection, dimming them, but failing to snuff them out entirely. “If this is really so predictable, then why are you wasting your time talking to me?”

The shadowy reflection faded from Butterfree Effect’s mask. Instead, there was a faint drakloak silhouette attached to it. That faded just as fast as it appeared. “All right. To the puppet, then. Yunavresca, was it?”

Great, they knew her name. Somehow. Yuna shot more dragonfire at Butterfree Effect and sped forward. This time they reappeared directly in front of the door, casting an odd purple glow against the otherwise dark gray metal.

“Do you think it’s fair,” Butterfree Effect began, “for so much suffering to be spread across all of reality?”

Yuna’s shadows tugged on her lower half. She wasn’t sure if they wanted to lash out or were encouraging her to keep going, even if it meant flying into the projection. Something she was still nervous about. If they could teleport around, were they truly powerless?

“The truth of reality is one of stagnation.” Butterfree Effect’s mask again swirled around into a purple void. “Every universe is destined to fade away into nothingness. The souls siphoned by the Overworld where they will slumber for eternity.”

The void shifted. Tiny hands held feathered quills that scribbled across Butterfree Effect’s distorted face. “Thousand arms crumble away. The storytellers lay down their pens or canvases.” The hands tossed the quills away and simply tapped at the air. “The keyboards go silent.” At last the hands merged into an open book that promptly slammed shut… and reformed their arceus wheel mask. “Whether gradually or abruptly, the story always ends.

“Worlds without gods fizzle out.” A sun appeared in the center of their mask, only to be extinguished like a blown out candle. “Those ‘blessed’ with divinity will see it abandon them. Or turn to destruction. Or be seized by those with malice in their hearts.”

Butterfree Effect warped directly in front of Yuna. The drakloak instinctively recoiled as they snapped back to the door. “Why does this happen, Yunavresca?” They stared her down. The dim room warped their mask even more than usual. “You now know of the Overseers. How can such a powerful group choose to stand by, letting each and every world meet their end?” They shook their head. “No, more than that, insist that these ends are necessary for some sort of cosmic balance?”

“I…” Yuna thought she had a retort at the ready, but her voice trailed off. Her gaze fell to the floor.

The shadows tugged on her lower half again. As if they were chewing her out for even listening to this thing. The drakloak needed to leave. Yuna spewed dragonfire at Butterfree Effect and shot forward. Panic welled up inside as the purple, distorted figure grew closer. They hadn’t moved. What would contacting them do to her?

And yet, Yuna didn’t slow down. In fact, she sped up. Was she getting lighter?

Before Yuna knew it, she was on the other side of the door. As if she’d phased through both Butterfree Effect and the door in one shot. And shadows were trailing off her body. Yuna glanced at her hands, then decided she could ruminate more when she was back with the others.

The drakloak began to descend when she glanced purple flickers in front of her. Her tail crinkled up upon seeing the Butterfree Effect standing sideways on the wall.

“Unfortunate.” They folded their hands behind their back. “But expected.” A distorted sigh followed. “Poor little puppet. Burdened with the illusion of choice.” They nudged their mask up. “Let me make this simple, then, Yaldabaoth. You want to reach the core, but the vault is designed to withstand pokémon attacks.”

Butterfree Effect lifted their right hand. “And the missing, ‘betrayed’ human is inside, bathing in the core’s energy as we speak alongside one of the creatures your puppet knows as Phantoms.”

Yuna swallowed hard. A Phantom was already here? And inside the vault, too?

“You’ve seen how many people are here for these festivities, Yaldabaoth,” Butterfree Effect continued. “So, what will you do? Will you open the vault and allow the Whisper of Ruin to rampage through this stadium— nay, the whole city? Or will you wait… all the while running the risk of more cores gathering more power and endangering other realms?”

They had both arms raised. “Surely, you understand now. The result is the same no matter what choice you make. Chaos leads to suffering.” Butterfree Effect shook their head. “Reality’s truth is unavoidable… unless you stand aside and allow me to affirm all phenomena. My Eternaverse will inscribe a new truth for reality. One where all souls are free from burden. From suffering.”

Yuna squeezed her eyes shut and flew down the empty shaft. After a few seconds, she forced her eyes open. No eerie purple glow. They hadn’t followed her.

What if she phased through the door to the sewers? The drakloak headed through it. A quiet sewer tunnel greeted her.

No sign of Butterfree Effect. Perhaps Yuna had gotten far enough from the anomaly core? Maybe if she checked her X-transceiver?

“Hello?” Yuna whispered. “Anyone there?”

“Cripes! There you are, Princess!” came Nikki’s hasty response. “The hell happened? You went silent on us for a while.”

Yuna sighed in relief. “I found the core. But it’s locked in a vault.”

“Pfbt. So?” Cracked knuckles came through Yuna’s speaker. “We’ll bust it open.”

The drakloak shuddered, recalling Butterfree Effect’s warning. “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.” Her shoulders sagged. “I’ll explain more when I get back.”

She took a deep breath as she flew deeper into the sewer tunnel. It’ll be okay, Yuna told herself. Even with all the dumb destiny talk Butterfree Effect spewed, there was one thing they hadn’t brought up: this wasn’t Yuna’s decision to make alone. There was a whole team she could run this by.

This wasn’t an impossible situation. They’d come up with a plan together. Yes, there was still a way for this to work out.

Igneous walked silently on the gravel path, ignoring rows of tombstones on either side of him. A small part kept urging him to leave the cemetery. If Sakaki was here, things would only be awkward. Why was he even entertaining his dad, anyway? The nidoking had an important story he was supposed to be working on. All of this would prove nothing but a big distraction.

Nevertheless, the grovlazzle put one foot in front of the other. The tombstones got progressively bigger until Igneous reached the back of the cemetery. He gazed at the oddly large brick wall. Why was it so tall? It wasn’t keeping out graverobbers. Not flying ones, at least.

He looked left. Sure enough, Sakaki stood several meters away. He faced a white marble tree with leafy wreaths wrapped around them. As Igneous approached, he glimpsed the words carved into the base of the statue.

REINA. BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, AND TEACHER.

Igneous had seen it over and over again through the years. He thought he’d gone numb to it. But with everything that happened since Venish, Igneous couldn’t push the memories out of his head.

A withering sceptile lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by vases of assorted flowers. IV lines jabbed in her arms. Rammed up her legs. Strange liquids dripping into her lines. Machines beeping and hissing in the background. Breathing for her. Keeping her heart beating because she’d lost the strength to do so.

“So, you showed up after all.”

The grovlazzle jolted stiff. Sakaki was looking right at him. Igneous noticed the bouquet of flowers on the ground in front of the statue. Freshly picked tulips. His mother’s favorite.

“Yeah,” Igneous didn’t take his eyes off the flowers. He didn’t want to talk with Sakaki, but staying silent wouldn’t get the nidoking to leave any faster. “Surprised you remember.”

Sakaki stuck his hands in his blazer’s pockets. “I’ve brought her some every three months.” There was a bit more fatigue as he added, “Which I’m sure you never noticed.”

Igneous had to stop himself from curling his hands into fists. “Can you blame me? You replaced her so quickly.”

Silence. Sakaki turned away from him. “She would’ve wanted me to move on.”

“Not within a few short months!” Igneous snapped.

Sighing, Sakaki folded his hands behind his back. “Everyone grieves differently. Your stepmother was there for me when I needed her. I can’t expect you to understand. You were… lost in your own spiral.”

Wincing, Igneous forced bitter, familiar images of lying on a cold floor, staring at the stump where his right arm was supposed to be from his mind. He couldn’t think about that. Not now.

“It didn’t occur to you… how it might’ve come across to me?” he muttered.

“Every time I tried to talk to you, you weren’t there.”

“Because I was finding out who was responsible.” Igneous’ head leaf simmered. “It was meant for you.” His gaze fell to the ground. “They wanted to poison you. And you just let her open that envelope.”

“How was I supposed to—”

“Weren’t you the one who had your underlings screening your damn mail?!” Igneous growled. Embers smoldered on the ends of his tails. He realized this and promptly turned out. “Y’know what? Forget it. This was a mistake.”

“Chiaki.”

“It’s Igneous.” The grovlazzle stomped off without another word.

With every row of tombstones, his mood soured further. Not toward Sakaki, though. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Igneous rapped the side of his head with his claws. Clearly, Sakaki did still value her. He wouldn’t pull off empty gestures just for Igneous’ sake. The nidoking abhorred wasting time on such frivolities.

Which means I’m the problem. Igneous kicked a pebble and watched it tumble down the gravel path. He approached it and kicked again. It rolled past the security kiosk with a sableye fast asleep inside and through the open gates.

… Where it stopped near a gray-white, fluffy hoof.

Igneous tensed. “What are you doing here?” He walked faster. The grovlazzle doubted Shimmer’s mere presence meant there were paparazzi or anything nearby, but a tiny part of him feared it nonetheless.

Shimmer nudged his head right. A latias with glowing blue, speaker-like wings leaned against the other side of the stone wall. She turned her head slightly and waved to Igneous. He dumbly waved back while trying to locate Scarlett.

“We might’ve overhead what you were saying to Gene,” Starlene admitted, poking her claws together. “I know you asked for space. But someone wanted to make sure you were okay.” She paused, looking over her shoulder. “From a respectable distance. Decent compromise, right?” Starlene wiggled her claws with enthusiasm that progressively dimmed the longer Igneous stared blankly at her.

“I thought she was up to something fishy,” Shimmer said, his fluffy tails twitching. “So, I followed, too.”

Silence. Igneous’ gaze drifted to the cemetery wall. He couldn’t snap at them. He’d already done badly enough with Sakaki. The grovlazzle trudged toward Starlene, not meeting the latias’ gaze. A pink flicker was all that told him Scarlett recalled her. He waited for the dragonair to ask if he was okay, but she stayed silent. Still respecting his boundaries, he supposed.

Igneous leaned against the wall and looked up. A thick layer of clouds hung overhead. The kind of dark clouds that threatened to drench the area, yet somehow held back.

“Should we… ask to return?” Shimmer wondered. The ponytales paced slowly in front of Igneous.

“Not yet.” Igneous took a deep breath. “Need… a bit more time.”

That drew a slither from Igneous’ left. “I suppose there are a couple of meanings behind that, huh?” Scarlett whispered.

Igneous didn’t reply. He could say something. Scarlett at least had a vague idea of what was happening. She was offering him a chance. So, why couldn’t he just come out and explain himself?

It had to be the memories. Igneous didn’t want to grapple with them. The only way to suppress them was not to talk about it. That was how it worked.

“The spirit never forgets.”

Xeromus’ words sent a shudder down Igneous back. His claws scraped the stone behind him. Igneous tucked his head down and closed his eyes.

“I lost my mother several years back,” Igneous whispered. He tensed, waiting for the memories of that dim, flower-filled hospital room to flood in. They held off. And the others weren’t responding. That was his cue to keep going. “Shimmer’s already heard about it. My father was working on a big Beacon piece. Someone didn’t like that. They sent him mail in a poison-laced envelope.”

He glanced left. Saw the confusion on Scarlett’s face. “The kind of venom that can work on a poison-type. Like salazzle toxins.”

The “Oh” formed on Scarlett’s lips was clear even without her saying it.

“The point is… my mom opened the envelope. Inhaled the venom.” Igneous’ claws scraped the wall again. “Both my parents hid it from me. I thought Mom was looking a bit frail, but she always played it off.” He sucked in a hard breath. “Until I found out she was in intensive care at the hospital.” Igneous closed his eyes again. “It was slow. Looked painful. Dad kept her on life support for a month… mostly because of me. Because I… I loved my mom. I couldn’t lose her.

“My dad… went to other people to grieve. But not me.” Igneous stared at his orange and yellow belly. “I poured myself into figuring out who was responsible. Tried to go after them myself.” He held out his right arm. “Lost an arm because of it.”

Scarlett’s eyes widened in realization. Igneous rubbed his right arm. “I had a great prosthetic. Only a couple of people at Horizon knew the truth before that explosion in Venish.”

… And plenty of Ryujin. Not that they had to hear that part.

“What I didn’t tell Shimmer was that, while this all happened, Dad found someone else.” Igneous’ brow furrowed. “A well-known salazzle fashionista. Married her within a few months.” He shook his head. “I haven’t been able to forgive him for it. It felt like he’d left me and Mom behind.”

He paused, wondering how much further to go. The only other thing Igneous needed to say was—

“So you grew distant, until you took your mom’s insurance money and went to Horizon.”

Igneous nodded slowly at Shimmer. He noticed a flat expression on Scarlett’s face. She must’ve been conflicted over hearing he had told Shimmer about this after asking her for space on the matter. And that left Igneous mentally kicking himself. Way to screw up again, dumbass.

He scrambled to say something to her to save face. “I wanted to tell you after Tulpise, but—”

“We ran into each other.” Shimmer glanced at him. “There was a bit of an argument and it slipped out on his part. He really did want to tell you first.”

Igneous did his best to keep a straight face, pressing his back harder against the wall. “Right. Something like that.”

Scarlett coiled up tighter. She looked down at the older, abandoned buildings across from the cemetery. “It’s fine.” The dragonair took a deep breath. “I get it. Family’s complicated.”

Her neck bauble flickered. “Okay, I don’t really get it. Orphan and all that.” She shrugged her tiny wings. Igneous raised a brow. Scarlett promptly puffed her cheeks. “It was a joke. Y’know, dark humor and stuff?”

Ah. Igneous weakly chuckled.

“Don’t give me a pity laugh.” Scarlett wrinkled her snout. “This isn’t open mic night!” Sighing, she loosened her coiling a bit. “But seriously. I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to comfort me,” Igneous insisted. He pushed off the wall and walked between Scarlett and Shimmer. “I’ve been dealing with this on my own for a while.”

Scarlett slithered to his side. “And you don’t think that isn’t working?” Her neck bauble flickered. A spectral Starlene gave him a disapproving look. “I won’t tell you what to do,” Scarlett said, glancing over her shoulder the moment Starlene’s illusion poofed away. “Just, y’know, maybe balling it all up isn’t the answer here?”

Igneous blinked slowly. His gaze fell to his feet. It needed a bit of mental gymnastics, but Igneous saw the connection between Scarlett’s words… and Sakaki’s actions.

He spent all that time with Igneous’ eventual stepmother instead of bottling it up. And who had Igneous leaned on?

No one.

Sure, Valkyrie helped him with tracking down who was responsible. But she was doing her job. Igneous never talked about this stuff with her. Only about the next steps.

God, was he really that stupid?

“Still awake?”

Scarlett’s tail waved in front of Igneous’ face. “If you want to go back to the station, we can go back. I’m pretty sure people are just bickering about the new mystery dungeon. Or anomaly. Or whatever we’re calling it.”

Igneous stiffened at that. “Bickering?” He hesitantly reached his hand up and turned his X-transceiver on.

“Absolutely not!”

“Absolutely not!”

Seifer flinched after he and Widget said the same thing in tandem. The keldeo looked at Yuna. “You can’t possibly agree with him.”

Yuna bit her lower lip. “I, uh, would prefer not to cause problems for this city.” She wrung her hands out. A part of her expected Gene to suggest brute forcing the mysterious vault, yet it still surprised her how quickly and casually he threw out the suggestion.

“Look, we heard what Yuna said.” Gene was annoyed. From people disagreeing with him? Surely, he saw that coming, right? “We’re taking a gamble no matter what we do. We can put one city in danger… or multiple places could get swept up in this. Don’t gotta be a mathematician to know that the former’s less than the latter. We break open the vault and destroy the Phantom—”

“It’s actually called a Whisper,” Yuna blurted out, only to throw her hands over her mouth. Of all the stupid times to get caught up in technicalities.

“Okay, sure.” The eyeroll practically dripped from Gene’s words. “Doesn’t change the plan: D-E-S-T-R-O-Y, oh my!”

“It’s a bad idea!” Widget immediately countered. “It doesn’t sound like there’s a way to contain the thing like in LaRousse. Nothing’ll stop it from wreaking havoc the moment the vault’s open.”

Which was Yuna’s big concern. In the middle of a big sporting event, there was no way they could clear out that stadium.

“Psssht. You’re thinking too hard.” Smirking, Nikki clasped the sides of her leather jacket. “It’s simple: we take the safe with the core… and move it somewhere else.” She pushed the air in front of her. “Find some abandoned field and plop it down. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.”

Leo bobbed up and down on Yuna’s head, seemingly enthralled with the idea. The drakloak herself had doubts, though. Such a simple solution couldn’t possibly work, right?

“Can you even move an anomaly core?” Cid wondered. “What if they’re anchored in place, only following the planet’s rotation? It’s just as likely that if you move the vault, the core will simply… phase through it. Leaving whatever’s inside free to rampage through the stadium.”

Nikki’s mohawk shrank a bit. “Tch. They’re big balls of staticky gobbledegook. How am I supposed to know?”

“Yeah, how dare the scholar counter you with logic,” Cyril scoffed. Seifer snrked, to Yuna’s surprise. Since when did the keldeo like sarcasm?

“I don’t see anyone else coming up with anything.” Nikki tapped a foot impatiently on the stone ground. “We’re burning—” She cut herself off and looked up. “Moonlight, I guess?”

Silence followed. Yuna looked out at the river. Boats floated atop the water, carrying scores of people watching a bunch of moving lights that pretended to be a flying cramorant. She couldn’t stomach the thought of letting something bad happen to all the people here. But she didn’t want other places in danger from doing nothing.

Yuna squeezed her hands against her face. The Butterfree Effect told her about this on purpose. Perhaps they knew the situation would leave the resistance paralyzed with indecision.

“Okay, fine.” Gene finally spoke up again after having his original idea shot down. “The only way to play this safe is to go the ironic route. We gotta get nuts for safety!”

Seifer raised a brow. “Which entails?”

“Instead of letting whatever’s in that vault out to cause a real disaster, we stir up a fake one to force everyone away from the stadium.”

Suppressing a wince, Yuna watched the stadium in the distance, with its colorful lights projecting into the night sky. If she was following Gene correctly, then…

“You’re going to attack this place. Or pretend to.”

Gene chuckled. “Not who I was expecting to catch on, but I’ll take it! Between me, Birdbrain, and, say, you summoning one of the Sages, we’ve got everything we need to raise some hell!” He paused. “Well, fake hell. You get the idea.”

“But that’s still dangerous,” Widget squawked. “If you cause a scene, people might hurt one another in the ensuing panic!”

To that, Gene laughed. “That’s where the rest of you come in. We’re going to make a convenient escape route for a fake assault on Wyndon. So, get ready, because I’m coming over to scout the city out.”