Chapter 3 – Regal Rituals

Alan’s consciousness returned gradually, the true darkness of his mind giving way to a blurry dimness. He was groggy, the effect of the spores still slowly wearing off. Vaguely aware of his surroundings he could feel the warmth emanating from below, his drooping tail hanging off the arms of the figure carrying his body. 

 

He wanted to snuggle up further into the warmth, but he was still completely paralyzed from the neck down, only able to feebly rustle his tuft of head hair against his blindfold, the ragged piece of cloth tightly tied around his eyes.

 

A few silent moments passed, drowsiness drawing near again, before a distinct click around his neck jolted him awake once again. 

 

The warmth below and around him was now gone, replaced by the constant cool of the rocky ground where he was placed. A similar cold surrounded his neck, causing him to shiver lightly. He could sense a figure carefully tiptoeing around him, footsteps barely audible. It reached down, expertly sliding the blindfold off in one quick motion.

 

His eye flitted open in an instant, blinded by even the dim candlelight. Wincing, he narrowed his eyelids, this time opening them much more gradually. Tiny, rocky walls of a cavern faced him down, his shadow wavering against the darkened backdrop. Eyes flicking around, he saw a large number of berries, seeds, sticks, and rocks of varying colors placed down in an organized fashion, concentric circles of red paint connecting the items in an unknown pattern.

 

What the… is this a ritual? Am I a sacrifice of sorts? Alan tried to approach the item closest to him, a plump cerulean-blue berry, its sweet scent making his mouth water slightly. He felt a stiff tug from his neck, followed by the distinct sound of chains clinking behind him. Turning behind, he saw the chain connected to his neck wrapped around a metal pole, standing at the very center of the ritual floor.

 

Alan was tied to the pole, most likely a victim of some crazed ritual. He began to tremble strongly, hyperventilating as stress rose to an unbearable amount. No… I can’t break down now, I can get out of this . Curling into a ball, Alan controlled his breathing, forcing his heart rate down, calming himself. He was used to doing this, he could vaguely remember calming himself using the same method before an important meeting in his past life.

 

The moments passed slowly, the feeling of stress slowly replaced by the agonizing sense of anticipation. He couldn’t help but begin to wonder what would happen to him, shaking his head strongly as he envisioned all the gruesome fates that could befall him. 

 

An extended creak came from his right, footsteps following as multiple pokemon entered the chamber, encircling the outside of the largest concentric circle. Some of the pokemon Alan recognized as well, Hikaru and Chai. A Lurantis wobbled in, barely holding it together, sidling up to the Breloom inconspicuously, pink arm blades locked around the walking mushroom. A Sceptile, Quilava, and Kirlia followed in last, the latter two locked in intense discussion over a scroll of text. The 6 pokemon surrounded the meek, trembling ball of fluff that was Alan, fur coat still a light lavender color due to Chai’s spores. 

 

Before anyone else in the room could speak, there was a sudden rustling of chains, Alan walked up and around, eyes locked onto Hikaru. An intense hacking cough came out of his mouth, his vocal cords still neither developed nor recovered from past events. His failed efforts left him splayed out on the ground, weakly gasping for air and yielding in defeat.

 

The Lurantis was next up to speak. “Who is this?” Her eyes locked onto Hikaru while her arms gripped harder around Chai, his claws lightly motioning at the Lurantis to lighten her hold. “I thought you said you found Edward, not some random newborn Korian feral running around?”

 

Hikaru replied back with a steady tone, “Your Majesty, this is King Edward’s reincarnated form, surely Kirlia and Quilava should have briefed you on this?”

 

“Nothing of that sort!” she snapped back. “I was never informed reincarnation could change species, much less turn my dear Edward into some mindless feral !”

 

The Quilava responded, “Yes, under normal circumstances this would have been impossible, however, the effects of the failure of the reincarnation ritual still have yet to be properly researched, so a change in species like this is likely one such side effect”

 

“His Majesty’s feral behavior seems to be linked to another side effect of reincarnation as well, in our records we have a single other instance of his Majesty being reborn a feral, so this ritual should reverse that issue”

 

Having given his explanation, the Quilava hastily retreated back into the dim background, hiding between the shadows of the other pokemon. “I see Astar has no more to say, let us get this ritual over with so my dear Edward may return”

 

From the shadows, Astar nodded silently to the Kirlia, who tiptoed up to a well-defined mark painted onto the outermost circle. Out of her mouth came a diverse set of sounds, high-pitched squeals mixed in with random words, a few recognizable to alan, still pinned to the ground in his own crippling fatigue.

 

A neon purple glow filled the room, concentrating around the pole at the center of the chamber. The chains were the next to glow, stretching and squeezing violently before shooting at Alan, wrapping around his stomach, and dragging him back toward the pole. He didn’t even try to resist. He couldn’t resist.

 

The chains lost their purple luster after a moment, still tightly binding Alan to the pole. He felt his head being gripped by an unknown force, pressure bubbling up at the back of his neck.

 

The chanting got louder, the pressure got stronger, the chains pulled harder. I can’t breathe… He struggled against his binds, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. The metal dug into his stomach, dyeing his fur a faded maroon red. 

 

The building pressure popped, and with it came a horrible, stabbing pain. Like a dagger falling from the skies into Alan’s head, the pain dug deep into his cranium, wriggling, splitting his brain apart. He screamed, seizing in agony. Melissa squeaked a tearful squeal, unable to watch his suffering any longer, before bursting out the room, incoherent blubbering echoing down the halls leading to the ritual chamber.

 

For the duration of the ritual, Alan’s screaming did not stop. The pain intensified as he whipped his head around, subconsciously attempting to reject whatever was being crammed into his head. His tears kept rolling down, turning bloody as the ritual progressed. 

 

More and more information flooded his mind. Words, runes, scribbles, drawings, and pictures all scrambled up and forced into his head like a stubborn child shoving a cube down a circular hole. The pokemon witnessing the ritual on the side all looked away, no longer able to continue watching their leader’s prolonged suffering. 

 

He was left a drooling, bloody mess in the end, hairs frayed and tangled around his ears. Drool dribbled out of his mouth, muttering incoherently to himself as his unfocused eyes fluttered around aimlessly. An Oran berry was shoved into his mouth, the juices flooding down his throat, cooling them as they traveled down his stomach, diffusing throughout his body as he lay there, barely conscious. 

 

The suffering subsided quickly, the once bloodied streams of tears now fully disappeared, leaving only a few brownish stains around his cheeks. He unsteadily got up, physically healed but still mentally exhausted. I’m not dead? Great, that was just a torture method, wasn’t it? All this suffering just for them to heal it and start all over? The empty feeling in his stomach grew, the pit deepening as his despair caused him to collapse back onto the ground.

 

He felt a new sense, an overpowering sensation to shout, scream, yell at his surroundings. Flicking his head up, he saw the Kirlia slowly backing off, stepping off the marked spot on the ritual floor, now completely devoid of any items or circles painted onto the ground. 

 

“The ritual has now concluded. His Majesty’s wildness has been eliminated. Communication should be possible now…” The Kirlia bowed, retreating back into the dimly lit background, before bolting through the exit, head low in reverence.

 

“Wuh… What did you do to me?” All eyes on the room widened, their curious glares slightly relaxing as Alan managed to produce words for the first time, confirming the ritual’s success. 

 

“Your Majesty, we are delighted to have witnessed your return.” said the Sceptile, genuflecting. The others quickly followed suit, dropping their heads low in veneration. However, due to Alan’s small statue, all the pokemon in the room still towered over him, and due to a combination of intimidation and confusion, only compelled him to scream out more.

 

“I’m not your king, okay? I don’t know who this Edward guy is, but I for one am sure I’m not him.” Alan piped up, taking a moment to catch his breath before continuing. “I’m just a random human guy reincarnated into this brand-new world. I don’t even have half of my memories back and you decide to kidnap me to do some demonic-ass ritual on me for no reason?!? How am I supposed to react to that?”

 

As he screamed a brilliant flash of white light shone behind him. Alan, too angry and distracted to realize what was happening, could only scream in agony once again as a new pain shot up his spine. This time the pain was much more physical, he could feel his tail ripping in two, violently destroying and rebuilding nerves and muscle within moments. 

 

The pain dispersed quickly, Alan shooting a quick glance behind. Two tails now stared back at him, each of their outer halves covered in a layer of sweat and grime, and the inside half of each tail being spotlessly clean. A perfect division. 

 

The Sceptile stepped back uneasily, worry filling his eyes. Her spiked tail brushed against the wall as she turned to give the Quilava a confused look. “Astar… what did you do…” She lunged at the Quilava, grabbing them by the collarbone, leafy claws digging into skin, drawing blood. “TELL ME ASTAR, WHY DOES HIS MAJESTY NOT REMEMBER ANYTHING?!?”

 

She lowered her stance, and in a blur of motion, hurled Astar into the nearest wall. The sound of bones cracking rang out as Astar tumbled onto the ground, coughing blood but still locked in intense thought. 

 

She’s gonna kill me. Alan backed away, tail subconsciously tucked under his legs, as far away from the scuffle as he could before the chain pulled tight. I can’t die here, I need to find a way to get out of here. He started aggressively pawing his collar, trying to bend the metal with his non-existent strength. 

 

Damn this weak-ass body…

 

The rattling of chains pulled both of the pokemon’s attention back to Alan. “Madam Celeste, I believe there may be a possible solution to His Majesty’s situation”

 

“What is it then?” Celeste immediately barked back.

 

“Similar to King Edward’s ferality, there are some recorded cases of the reincarnation ritual leading to memory loss. We may have an older backup of his Royal Highness’s most important memories stored in the royal vaults and can replace his altered memories accordingly through a memory ritual” answered Astar, using the nearby wall as support as they limped over to the door. 

 

“Well get to it then! Scram!” Celeste motioned at Chai to assist the injured Quilava.

 

Astar hobbled over to the exit, arms clutching their broken ribs, leaning onto Chai for support as the pair promptly left the room. That left only Celeste and Hikaru, both watching Alan as he desperately fumbled around. Rubbing her temples, the Sceptile turned to leave the ritual chamber as well. The door forcefully slammed shut as the Lucario approached the Alolan Vulpix.

 

“No… Stay away…” Tiny clouds formed in the space between his two tails, spewing out a small volume of snow and hail. Snow warning? He willed the snowstorm at Hikaru, now standing only a few feet away from him. The Lucario effortlessly waved away the darkening cloud, dispersing it before it could do anything. “Please, you have to believe me… I’m not your king…”

 

“Do not worry Your Majesty, your memories shall be returned soon, please stay calm.” Hikaru reassured as he untied the chains from the pole, fastening it tightly around his wrist instead. 

 

Alan still paralyzed in fear, could do nothing as Hikaru stood over him, bending down and slipping the blindfold back over his eyes. Tears began to seep out the bottom edge of the cloth, streaking down his snout as he began to sob quietly. 

 

Hikaru winced with a pang of guilt in his eyes. He didn’t want to watch this newborn suffer anymore, even if it currently housed King Edward’s soul. He had no say in the matter however, he wanted the Everlasting King back on the throne as much as anyone else in the royal cabinet. He was still concerned with the Vulpix calling himself human, considering humans were nowhere to be found on the continent of Krux, but he could only push aside his doubts for now.

 

Hikaru wrapped his arms around the sniveling fox, taking great care to not squeeze Alan against his chest spike, before heading out of the room. Alan, now blinded, could only see the blurry motes of light from the torches they passed as they made their way down the corridor. The crying slowed as fatigue quickly caught up, the revitalizing properties of the Oran berry fed to him no longer in effect. He dug his head into Hikaru’s furry arms and promptly fell asleep.

 

---

 

The damp, rocky ground Alan was roughly dropped onto woke him up in an instant. In front of him was Hikaru, locking the chain still attached to Alan’s neck around a metal loop sticking out about halfway up the low walls of this new room. 

 

He could sense that the doorway around him was open, and Alan felt compelled to sprint out the door. The sound of his leash clicking to the wall all but destroyed his plans of escape. What’s the point anymore. He was emotionally exhausted. 

 

“Please don’t do this to me…” he begged. A final desperate attempt, completely ignored by Hikaru as he swiftly left the room, the heavy metal door slamming shut, locking immediately right after.

 

At least I’m not being tortured this time, Alan thought. Unlike before, the room he woke up in was almost fully in the dark, the only source of illumination coming from an orb, flickering as it swung from the ceiling. The rhythmic dripping of water came from his left, contributing to the thick, dank air continuously dampening his fur coat, thick grime covering the once pristine white fur he was reborn with. A prison cell, huh… What treatment to give to their so-called king.

 

His sense of smell returned last, the musty yet metallic smell of dried blood filled his nostrils. He could smell rot coming from the center of the cell, the source being a pair of rotting straw nests just barely within range of his chain leash. Two beds? But I’m the only one here… 

 

He heard a faint huff coming from the darkness directly in front of him. “Huh? Who’s there!” 

 

His eyes peered into the darkness, darting left and right rapidly but keeping most of his attention on the space in front of him. A pair of eyes stared back, menacing red slits glowing around the darkness enshrouding most of the cell. 

 

“Hey, kid.” 

 

Alan yelped, stepping back from the voice. His chain went slack, wrapping itself around his hind legs, causing him to tumble over, putting up his paws and covering his face instinctively.

 

That thing… it’s going to kill me, isn’t it? Alan felt a primal fear taking over his mind. He felt a layer of snow envelop the inside of his mouth, before automatically escaping his mouth alongside his breath. The figure easily dodged the powder snow, now heading towards the light in the center of the room.

 

“Please don’t kill me! I’m not worth anything! I don’t even know how I got here!”

 

Alan was hyperventilating again. His wispy hair brushed over his paws covering both his eyes. He would be crying, but he was much too dehydrated from his pitiful snow attack to manage that. I’m gonna die… It’s over, I didn’t even manage to survive a week here.

 

“Woah, woah!” The creature stepped into the center of the room, the flickering orb lighting up his body “Take it easy kid, I won’t hurt you.”

 

Alan cautiously flipped himself over, facing the creature in the center of the room. It was similar in height and stature to Alan, its faded yellow face covered in a multitude of bruises and scars. Its beak was slightly bent back into its mouth, while whole chunks were missing from the pink heart-shaped scale covering its forehead.  A dull gray shard of rock was pierced into its tail scales, also scratched and chipped all over. Jangmo-o? And a shiny as well? It looks like it’s in a really rough state, what did those guys do to it…

 

“Look kiddo, I don’t know what sort of shit happened to get the deputy head of the royal guards to personally carry a newborn in here, but it’s not my place to pry into your circumstances…”

 

Alan, still emotionally distraught, was sent back into a sobbing mess at the Jangmo-o’s comment.

 

“I didn’t do anything! I deserve none of this! I just hatched in the middle of nowhere… I don’t even remember dying! I just wanna go back!” He screamed at the tiny dragon, voice dry and raspy. “I- *hic* I don’t know anything, I only remember my old life as a human, I don’t even know how to act as a pokemon!”

 

Alan put his paws back over his eyes, rocking back and forth weakly. He curled into a ball, tightly hugging his two tails, rapidly breathing to calm himself. His throat felt like a desert, nearly as bad as when he first hatched.

 

The Jangmo-o clicked its beak in contemplation, before sitting in between the two rotting piles of damp hay. His neck scales rapped against the metal ring on his throat, the chain leashing him to the opposite wall pulling tight. He sat down, chains cuffing his front paws rustling as he adjusted himself to find a more comfortable spot on the rock. He patted the ground next to him, wincing in pain as he inspected his bloody, infected claws. “Sit here kid, I can’t really get closer to you.”

 

Alan weighed his options. It looks like he trusts me, or at least takes pity on me. I don’t know if this is just a trick to hurt me though… He looked at the sitting dragon once more, a genuine pained smile plastered across his face. “Y-you won’t hurt me right?” he stammered.

 

“You’re safe with me kiddo. I promise.”

 

“O-Okay…” Alan weakly got up, both front and hind legs wobbling as they struggled to support his weight. He meekly shuffled over to the Jangmo-o, tucking his front paws under his body, placing himself directly next to the dragon, his chain also pulling taut. “I’m Alan, by the way. W-whats your name?”

 

The dragon raised his eyebrows, taken aback by Alan’s sudden trusting attitude. Purring softly, he preened Alan’s fur back fur, picking out small chunks of rock and dried clots of blood from the tangled fur. It was calming, soothing both pokemon’s frayed nerves as they nestled against each other.

 

Lifting his head back up, the Jangmo-o spoke again. “My name? It’s–” 

 

A series of growls and clicks followed.

 

“What?”

 

The dragon repeated the same set of growls and clicks, a little slower this time. He sighed after noticing Alan’s puzzled stare.

 

“Look kid, us slum kids don’t get names like yours.” He shook his head in frustration. “Normally you’d be able to understand, but something is clearly wrong with you, I get that, just call me Jangmo-o”

 

Alan flicked his hair tuft while thinking “Those noises, it reminded me of something. A friend from the past. Morgan… How about I call you Morgan?”

 

“Are you sure Alan? Giving a slum kid like me such a name?”

 

“Yeah, you remind me of him a lot…” Crushing despair swallowed the Vulpix once again, fragments of memories floating about in his head. It’s all gonna be replaced isn’t it? Whatever they’re gonna do, it’s just gonna delete my existence from this world anyways.

 

Morgan, immediately picking up on the change of mood, rubbed his head scale against the despairing fox, comforting him and keeping Alan holding on mentally, even if only barely. He rested his front legs upon the Vulpix, warm damp fur pushed up against his bleeding claws.

 

Alan, eyes shut, suddenly felt his senses numb. A faint memory flashed through his mind, flushing away his surroundings for a moment.

 

He was laying on his father’s lap, enjoying the warmth of the summer sun as his father hummed a familiar tune. This… I barely remember this… He felt a knot in his chest loosen, able to finally feel himself relax as both his father and Morgan gently stroked his back. His breathing slowed, the memory fading back into his subconscious. 

 

“Thanks, Morgan. I was about to lose myself again.”

 

“No worries kid, you’re handling this really well for a ‘mon who looked like they hatched last night”

 

“Actually I think I was born last night…” Alan mumbled under his breath. I think he trusts me now, couldn’t hurt to ask some basic questions.

 

“So… where even are we? I was knocked out before waking up here.” Alan asked, being careful not to add too much detail to his question.

 

“We’re in the royal prisons.” Morgan replied back immediately. “Some deep corner of the tamed Krux City mystery dungeon”

 

“Mystery dungeon? Krux? Tamed?”

 

“You really were just hatched yesterday weren’t you?” Morgan uttered. His eyes shut as he recalled the most basic of knowledge he carried with him. “We’re currently stuck in something called a mystery dungeon, got no idea how they actually work though, my family was too poor to afford my education.”

 

“Normally only exploration squads are allowed down mystery dungeons, but this one is different.” The Jangmo-o paused momentarily, simplifying his understanding of the world in his mind for Alan. “It’s been… “tamed” is the word I would use. All floors have collapsed, only leaving 1 massive sprawling cave system. It’s no longer alive, the contents of each room no longer being randomized and stuff no longer appears randomly on the ground.”

 

“It’s no longer alive? Are we being imprisoned inside a corpse?” Alan didn’t even know how to react. The hell?

 

“Ok, maybe I simplified it too much. It’s not really alive in a normal sense, but it does act in weird ways. That’s why everyone calls them mystery dungeons . Anyways, this dungeon was tamed generations ago, back when Krux City was still some backwater pokemon settlement. Pokemon moved in and took advantage of the dungeon, and that’s how this city and kingdom got so powerful.”

 

I’m really not following, but whatever. I’m just happy he’s not ripping my heart out or worse by now.

 

“Morgan, how did you even end up here?” Alan questioned. Morgan grimaced and quickly looked away, in shame and anger at the question. The Vulpix immediately regretted bringing up the topic.

 

“N-no it’s alright, you don’t need to tell me…”

 

Morgan shifted around uncomfortably. “No, no I’ll tell you. I killed a royal tax collector.” Alan gasped in horror. “He took away everything we owned and was threatening to take away my sister next. I couldn’t control myself, so I ripped his neck off, let him bleed out on the sidewalk” Morgan was quivering now, regret filling the space between his pupils. “T-the response was immediate. I got as far away from my family as I could before the guards showed up. I hope they’re still alive”

 

Holy shit. Alan stared at the dragon, a little in fear but mostly in pity. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked” It was Alan’s turn to comfort Morgan. He rubbed his snout on the Jangmo-o’s forehead scale, while simultaneously placing his paws on the blood-stained claws. “That blood, it’s not…”

 

“No, thankfully. I’ve been here for a few moons now.” Morgan interrupted. He glanced down at his front paw. “It’s my own blood. As punishment for the murder, they’ve been trying to declaw me for a while now. I’m a dragon, so these are too hard to be broken like that. They’ve got close though, both front paws are infected, it might just fall off on its own soon… Hah.” He showed Alan his two front paws, blood and pus seeping out his mangled paws.

 

I was their king? I was responsible for causing this? No… No way. Alan’s stomach grumbled, he hadn’t had anything to eat ever since he hatched out apart from the berry shoved down his throat. “Ah, sorry about that, I think I’m starving right now”

 

These sick fucks, leaving a child here with no food… Morgan thought. He turned around and grabbed a bowl from the corner of the cell with his mouth. Some sort of toxic purple mulch filled half the bowl, the other half already seemingly being eaten by Morgan himself. 

 

“Grimy food, it’s the only thing the guards here ever feed me. If you get lucky you might just not get poisoned by it” 

 

“They don’t give you any of those berries? I saw a bunch laying around on the ground around me when I woke up here.” said Alan, staring at the wooden bowl in disgust.

 

“Nah, that would undo any progress they had with crippling me, and gummis would make my claws too hard to break as well, they want to weaken me as much as possible.” Morgan replied.

 

Alan reluctantly nibbled at the grimy food, before immediately spitting it out. “Eugh! That’s fucking nasty ! I’d rather starve!” He shook his head in disapproval. Morgan lightly chuckled at his reaction. He was about to start talking again when the two of them heard heavy footsteps stomping down the corridor. 

 

Morgan retreated back to his corner of the cell, only his red eyes visible again. “That one’s definitely for you. Whatever they want from you, good luck kid.”

 

The door swung open and crashed into the adjacent wall. The light behind the doorway was fully blocked by a huge figure before it hunched over and stepped into the cell. The Sceptile towered over Alan, still sitting in between the two beds. He was quickly backed into his corner out of intimidation and fear. Shit! It’s Celeste again! 

 

In her left hand, Celeste held a seed. She chucked it at the Vulpix, the seed flying effortlessly through the air and into Alan’s wide-open mouth. Its effects kicked in as drowsiness overcame Alan in an instant. He yawned and slumped over as the Sceptile moved to pick him up, his chain being yanked out the wall simultaneously. The Jangmo-o could only watch in horror as his newfound friend was whisked away by the head of the royal guards, leaving him alone in the darkness once more.