Chapter 6, in which a discussion on the disappearance of gods is had

“Dear Arceus, I didn’t think I’d be thankful for clear vision and hearing today,” started Nivas.

“What even HAPPENED back there‽‽” said Arc.

There should be no surprise when I say that the Dungeon had taken much out of us. We were stood just outside the entrance, where we waited a moment in sheer astonishment — exhausted and battered, we were in no rush to get back to the Guild.

When we’d finally caught our breath, Amber began by saying:

“Well, team, looks like we have our first official failure under our belt.”

“Official?” I asked.

“Long story,” said Elm dismissively.

---

Our trek back to the Guild was made in good time, as conversation was brief — we were all eagerly awaiting our afternoon of respite and considering the consequences of the failure of our mission, important as it was. I imagined it would be none too severe, as I knew Vaya to be an understanding person, but the team were deathly worried of what was to come. They’d failed a mission given to them by one of the three leaders of the Guild — an honour granted to few teams. I did what little I could to relieve their anxiety, but I don’t think what I said had much effect.

As we entered through the doors of the Guild once more, we received a couple of worried looks from nearby teams — Amber and Arc were still injured from the blows they’d taken from the Gyarados, and the two berries we had were not enough to heal them fully. We paid onlookers no mind as we rushed directly towards the Guildmaster’s room.

Inside, we found Vaya listening intently as Lem dictated a letter to an Aipom scrivener, who wrote down Lem’s every word with startling efficiency.

“… no major injuries yet, but proper law enforcement is something to be considered.”

“Oh, Team Bravado!” noticed Vaya. “Lem, I’ll let you be, I think you can handle this, right?”

The Ceruledge nodded before continuing his dictation. Vaya began floating out the door, indicating to us to follow her, before suddenly stopping upon spotting Amber and Arc.

“Oh — what happened?” she asked. Then, before anyone could reply — “Don’t answer that, let’s get you some Oran berries first.”

She flew through the Guild at a rapid pace and swerved into a room, coming out of it rather hastily with two berries. She handed them to the injured Pokémon before saying:

“Follow me, then you can tell me everything about the Dungeon.”

We were led into another room, which seemed to be a documents room, holding many pages filled with Guild-related information, records on completed missions and team statuses. Vaya closed the door, then began addressing us.

“So, what happened?”

We recounted our excursion into the Dungeon. We eventually came upon the ninth floor, where the contents of the Dungeon had begun taking an interesting turn.

“We ended up just dropping the die, and it spun in midair to land perfectly on a one,” stated Amber. “Actually, do you know what happened? It happened with a full set of dice too on a later floor.”

“No, I haven’t heard of anything like that before,” she noted. “I’ll have to investigate that.”

“In any case, right after that happened, we got caught in a fight against Panpour and Mudkip, I think—”

“Butterfree too,” I corrected — I had taken notes from within the Dungeon, which I now had in my hands.

“Yeah. Anyways, we were saved by a group of Pokémon who called themselves the Nix League—” stated Amber.

“Sorry, you mean civilised Pokémon?” interrupted Vaya.

“Yeah?”

“As far as I know, the Imperial Guard was told only to let Guild members in — do you know how they got to the Dungeon?” asked the Mismagius.

“No, I don’t think they mentioned that. All we really know is that they’re an organisation of phylakelogists, and they’re not happy with the Guild’s method of study,” I said.

“Very well, I’ll have to look into that,” she noted. Turning to Amber, she says, “Do go on.”

The rest of the conversation elicited mostly typical reactions from Vaya — worry at the changing of the Dungeon, awe at our persistence through the harder fights, amazement at our determination to get to the end despite our lack of supplies. Of course, we noted our failure on the sixteenth floor.

“…so Ida used an Escape Orb before any of us got hurt, so we couldn’t reach the end of the Dungeon,” finished Amber, dejected expression all too evident on his face.

Vaya caught on, evidently.

“Team Bravado, you did well — even getting through as much of the Dungeon as you did at the Wanderer rank is incredibly impressive. You have no right to be disappointed in your efforts — it was my mistake to send you into the unknown.”

“…o-oh,” muttered Amber.

“Despite your failure at the end, you have been able to show that Humid Hollow is unstable, and that was your mission — you’ve succeeded, and you’ll get your Explorer rank badges within—”

“WOOOO WE DID IT!!!” interrupted Arc, followed by a small chuckle from the rest of the room. “WE’RE FINALLY EXPLORERS!!!”

When Arc had finally calmed down, Vaya finished our meeting with a closing remark.

“One last thing — since Humid Hollow was so much tougher than I intended for it to be, I’m giving you tomorrow the day off. Have a nice day.”

As I began to make my way out of the room, I was intercepted by Vaya.

“Hey, Ida, could you wait a moment? We haven’t spoken in a while, it would be nice to catch up.”

“Alright.”

---

After a couple of moments waiting for Vaya to conclude her business, we took off to the road outside the Guild together.

“So, where are we going?” I asked.

“I’m heading to the temple,” Vaya answered.

“You never told me you believed in that.”

She stopped walking in order to turn and face me.

“Ida. A new Dungeon has appeared for the first time since the gods abandoned us. Surely that means that they’re back, in some way or another, right?”

History has shown us the gods were quite active with their involvement in our world. They would often speak to mortals; they would do their best to give us gifts; they would name a hero to fix problems as they came, and grant them blessings as needed. They were fair in most aspects — Emperors and commoners alike would receive their aid.

When Mystery Dungeons first appeared, all awaited the help of the gods — mortal Pokémon could not hope to face places where reality itself is torn asunder. The gods were never seen since. Of course, the idea that the gods had something to do with the emergence of Mystery Dungeons became a leading school of thought on the matter — their disappearance at the same time was just too much of a coincidence.

“What makes you so sure they’ll help us this time around?” I asked. “They had no problem letting us be for a hundred years.”

“I don’t think they’ll help me.” A brief pause of consideration. “I don’t think they’ll even speak to me. But since Humid Hollow appeared, any shot at removing Dungeons or even figuring out more about them is worth it.”

A somewhat longer pause filled the air as we considered the topic.

“I’m still torn about the gods,” I stated. “Every historical document, every historical account seems to say that they were good, that they were fair. It doesn’t sound like them to just renounce the roles they had taken.”

“So what do you think it is?”

“Perhaps Mystery Dungeons are the reason they can’t reach us anymore. Maybe it’s a problem with the world itself somehow and the gods are too busy trying to fix it.”

“It can’t be that, can it?” Vaya stated. “If it were that, Humid Hollow wouldn’t have appeared recently… would it?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s considerably better than the idea that Mystery Dungeons are punishment for not thanking the gods.”

“Agreed.”

Our conversation had brought us in sight of the temple. It was the only building that rivalled the Guild in size within Verdant Town.

All zealous would find their way here sooner or later — what better hope of bringing back the gods than immensely profuse thanks for their work in creating the world, heard by none other than the mortals who’d uttered it; than effusive gifts given to the temple, never making their way to the hands of the gods; than heartfelt begging and prayer, never needed before the advent of Mystery Dungeons? And yet Pokémon still came, for hope is one of the most important motivators for us all — and if we’re to hope for a better future, why not place our hope in beings above us, who can solve all our problems in the blink of an eye? No other solution looks quite so promising.

If it was not clear by my verbiage in the previous paragraph, I cared little for the temples, their ideas and their objectives. If the gods wanted something from us, they could easily have made it clear. Also, the field of phylakelogy had made great strides since the first appearance of Mystery Dungeons, and there were many tools come as a result of it. Thenadays, I had no doubts that our research would outpace Dungeons, and that we would be able to fix everything, or even profit from it in some way — Luminous Orbs were way brighter than any candle or torch.

The temple itself was a grandiose building. In fact, part of the Council of Emperors were zealots themselves, and had ordered the construction of the temples in all cities and towns — the building had been built by a selection from the finest craftsmon in all of Vie. The stone lining the edge of the roof was carved into an elegant cornice, pillars lining the walls were intricate as could be, and the stained glass windows depicting the gods were immaculate.

“I don’t like the temples,” mused Vaya. “If you think about it, they were all built because people are too afraid of facing Mystery Dungeons.”

“Mmm.”

“Sometimes I just wish it were easier, right? It’s all so conflicting. Surely the gods created Mystery Dungeons, since no one else holds the power to do that. But the gods used to be benevolent, so it can’t be that. Surely this is a problem the gods are trying to fix — that’s why they’re not around. But it’s been a hundred years — something should have changed by now. Surely the gods mean to test us. But it’s been a few generations already — almost everyone who was around when they first disappeared is dead.” She turned to me. “Every possible answer seems to have the biggest gap in it. I’m wondering if we’ll ever know what happened.”

“Hopefully.” Once more, we were caught in our thoughts for a moment. “This reminds me of a journal I found in Dark Depths. It’s written by a human, but does not match human history. But it also couldn’t have been faked due to its contents. It’s likely not fiction, since there’s no plot, and the journal isn’t even fully filled in.”

“Human relics, in a Dungeon?”

“Yes, it’s why I became an apprentice, see if I can find anything in Dungeons.” Another moment of consideration. “I want to think it’s a fabrication of the Dungeon, but Dungeons don’t just make fake items like that, right?”

“No, they don’t. Curious.” One last pause filled the air, while Vaya opened the door to the temple. “Maybe one of these days I’ll see if we can make an Orb to gather real objects in a Dungeon. Maybe we’ll find more relics for you in this way.”

The interior of the temple was just as ostentatious as its exterior. At the very back of the temple, opposite the door, was the greatest of the stained glass works, depicting the four major gods. At the center, the Shining Crown and an incredibly ornate representation of Arceus, God of All. To his left was Palkia, God of Space, and to his right was Dialga, God of Time. Below him was Giratina, God of Souls.

The rest of the building was divided by pillars. To our left was a pillar carved with the appearance of brittle, dead branches, a Cubone skull, and a few bones. Behind it was the stained glass artwork of Yveltal, God of Death. To our right, another pillar — this one carved and painted, with lush foliage in a vibrant green, a group of Joltik seen climbing up the pillar, vines swirling all around it. The pillar was also paired with the stained glass panel of a god, this being Xerneas, God of Life.

Other such pairs could be seen, with their pillars and their stained glass, lining the single room of the temple. Groudon and Kyogre, gods over the lands and the oceans; Cresselia and Darkrai, gods over dreams and nightmares. Of course, not all gods came in pairs, and a miscellaneous few were found scattered here and there.

As expected, a handful of Pokémon were found within the temple, caught in prayer, or merely in deep thought.

I believe what disturbed me the most about these temples was the complete lack of pride within them. Many were found prostrate or kneeled (if they were able) in front of the stained glass of the gods, for they could not deign to disrespect the gods who’d abandoned us. Some could be heard thanking Uxie for their good learning at school, thanking the god of their element for their help in daily life, as if they could not dare to think it was their own good work that brought them their fortune.

All the same, much as my opinion differed from these Pokémon, I did not pity nor resent them. It’s important to have a sense of purpose in life, and divine purpose is much more stable than many others — the gods aren’t around to change their perspective, after all.

“Well, then, I think I’ll leave you to it,” I said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. We should speak again sometime, I haven’t had the time to properly ask you about your recent research.”

“Likewise, maybe tomorrow.”

And with some short goodbyes, I let her be, as I made my way out of the temple, to be shortly interrupted by a Zangoose searching for me.

“Oh, you’re the historian, right? They’re looking for you at Our Story.”

So I found myself heading to Quil’s bar next.

---

Our Story was much livelier than the day before. Many new puzzle pieces lined the walls; it seemed the Smeargle had been busy planting clues — or, perhaps, they’d all been found at once today.

Many Pokémon were looking through the clues today — Cubone, Squirtle, and Excadrill considering a puzzle inscribed in a stone, within a black and white square; Eevee and Vulpix intently staring down a cypher on a wooden signpost. Near the back of the room were the ones looking for me, particularly a Natu and a Hoppip, the latter of which was waving to grab my attention. Of course, I ensured to grab my Unown translation notes before coming here — it was my only skill that could not be replicated by others in town, in other words, the reason they’d needed me specifically.

Of course, the bar, being rather full, had its tenders overwhelmed, and this was not helped by Quil, who limned a vivid battle of an Espurr against a Blastoise and a Leavanny for a crowd, rather than tending himself. I could tell the story he told was yesterday’s events, but spruced up for the audience, as Quil was wont to do.

I made my way to the pair.

“You’re the historian, right? What’s your name, again?” asked the Hoppip.

“It’s Ida. And you?”

“My name is Nyra and this is Edon,” replied the Hoppip. “We recently found these two pieces of paper together in an envelope near the well at the center of town.”

“We’re pretty sure this is Unown, right?” asked Edon.

The first had a cypher on it. At the bottom, seemingly a key of sorts — but cryptic enough that it did not plainly give away the message. The second paper, on the other hand, did indeed contain Unown text.

“It is. I suppose I’ll have a look,” I said, pulling out my notes.

“Alright, we’ll try to get working on this cypher, then.”

Before I began chipping away at the Unown, I was struck by a moment of deliberation. This was what Quil was referring to when he said he had something ready for me. Unless this text harkened back to the journal, it meant that the journal had to be a real text, written by a human, and the thought of it put me in a state of minor unease.

I began my work. Before long, I had managed to decrypt the first two lines of text. They stated simply:

Some letters are important, others are not.
This letter had come to me, and it told the most curious story.

And with those two lines translated, it was all too clear that it would not tie into the journal. I did stay to translate the rest of the page, and in the meanwhile, Nyra and Edon had given up, and left me with a succinct goodbye.

I believe I was sat alone at the table for a good while, long enough for most of the patrons of the bar to have left. I was lost in thought regarding the journal, considering heavily its implications on the field of human history — no doubts I’d have to find some other mention of this Pokémonless society for my guesswork to hold any water in an academic setting.

While I was stuck reflecting over this new information, unaware of my surroundings, Quil walked up to me.

“Poké for your thoughts?” he asked, rolling me a coin.

I pocketed it, and sighed.

“Things have certainly been… odd, lately, I suppose.”

“Ah, it tends to happen now and again, hehe~,” he noted. “If all things were like usual every day, I wouldn’t have many stories to tell, now, would I?”

I smiled his way.

“I recently found this journal in a Dungeon — Dark Depths, to be precise — and it is the strangest relic yet.”

I briefly explained my find of the journal, last night’s translation, and the disparity between the journal’s contents and known history. Quil took to nodding periodically, expressing his undivided attention.

“Maybe it’s just human fiction,” he tried.

“It couldn’t be. There’s no plot, no contrivances — it genuinely feels like someone’s life experience.”

“Well, then, I’ll be waiting for you to translate the final pages. There’s probably some clue there.”

“Probably.”

Our conversation then carried on for a bout longer — it seems the closure of the trade route passing through Humid Hollow had stranded a fair few merchants within Verdant Town. Some of them had decided to set up shop within the town for as long as they were stuck here — well worth checking out, Quil assured me. I wanted to make mention of Humid Hollow to Quil, explain the closure of the route to him, but the new Dungeon was not yet public information, and the Smeargle would not be one to keep the secret.

In any case, I eventually left Our Story to return home, and finish the translation of the journal.

---

As I entered my home, I doffed my cloak once more. Some minor tears were forming, courtesy of the rigid branches of the first phase of Humid Hollow, and the cloak was now rather muddy. Although I should probably have taken a moment to clean and repair the cloth now, I was far too invested in the journal now that I knew it had to be a real relic — my cloak would have to wait.

Making my way to my research room once more, I made my way in to find the coins that I’d hastily dropped on my desk earlier, and the journal itself, still open on the page with the Shining Crown.

The coins were going nowhere — the journal had my full interest.