Do not think; react. Do not react; anticipate. Do not anticipate; control.

  That had been the foundational sequence underlying all of his training with Mewtwo – that in order to excel, in order to fight at the highest level, one had to maintain a perfect awareness of one's self, one's enemy, and the battlefield. That the greatest effect lay in the acceptance of a contradiction: the middle of battle was no place for complex reasoning, only snap decision, instinct, and muscle-memory – but also, one must always be thinking, be planning, be a step ahead of the enemy. The most effective combatant was one who could be, at the same time, both a smashing brute and a shrewd tactician; after all, it was extremely difficult to formulate a strategy while being punched in the face. That was something that applied to everyone, so better to be the puncher than the punchee.

  But in the warzone that the audience room had become, even the most simplistic tactic seemed impossibly out of reach. Their opponents were fast, horrifyingly strong, and while not necessarily intelligent there was something more than the base instinct of a common Pokémon at play. Experience, Abratwo intuited between Light Screens, it's experience. Mew is smart… but the birds are veterans of a thousand battles, and that's just as good. Maybe better; despite being far larger targets, they were taking fewer hits.

  Not that the quantity seemed to matter. Damnation-! React, damn you!

  His mental cry fell on indifferent ears as the Flamethrower glanced off the Articuno’s royal blue feathers. In art they were often depicted as crystalline, as though the force of nature was cloaked in the very stuff of winter, but up close they were only blue feathers – and yet, the searing fire did little more than singe the very edges.

  A Teleport, another Light Screen twinned with Reflect, Teleport – and Geodudetwo the graveler ploughed into his back with a full-speed Rollout. The friendly fire sent agony up and down his spine, and the kadabra retreated into grey nothing for a heartbeat – just long enough to wonder if he was dead. Then the pain that had sent him down into oblivion pulled him back up to hell.

  Move. Move or die, damn you..!

  And yet mere survival failed to dredge up anywhere near enough motivation. A second passed, two, three, and it was only when Abratwo saw a spear of ice the size of a support pillar careening directly for Char’s exposed back that he overcame the lethargy and returned to action. Psychic!

  Deflecting the attack with telekinesis somehow wrenched his shattered back, and the grey gained ground before he remembered Recover existed. “Urgh!” [Don't hover, you idiot! Constant motion!]

  There wasn’t time to see if his advice was followed. A crack-ack-ack of staccato thunder pealed out, electricity falling like arrows, and lying on the ground Abratwo was unable to even attempt a dodge. He was struck twice, then a Mirror Coat at least returned the next three back the way they'd come. Again, not that it even noticed. My attacks aren't effective, I need to…

  Monumental effort put together another Teleport – and he had a brief half-second to breathe.

  Recover. Barrier. Light Screen. Arcus above, why did I spend last month upgrading the hydroponics instead of learning Protect like Master advised..?!

  Things were going poorly – but as he watched, feeling the healing energy pull his spine back into its proper shape, the kadabra saw a spark of hope. We’re losing… but not as badly as it appears! Mewtwo was a juggernaut, occupying both Mew and the Moltres at once and not coming off the worse for it; the rest of the clones were less effective, but the least battlesome of them had already fled the field. That left a core of hardened warriors, or at least scrappers, and despite the confusion of being sneak-attacked a semblance of order was already starting to form.

  Bulbasaurtwo is down, but Char is doing fine despite himself. Scyther is injured but conscious, Growlithe is fine, and some of the subaquatic citizens haven't even been noticed yet… And of course, he was present. Calm down. Think…

  A menacing snowstorm descended, but as he evaded Abratwo did so with a plan assembling itself in his mind. First, his spoon flashed out and captured not himself, but another clone in a Teleport; Geodude disappeared, his powerful but near-uncontrolled Rollout removed from play, and almost immediately things improved as Pokémon put their entire focus on the enemy rather than needing to devote one eye to the careening boulder. Screens and psychic barriers sprang up – and Jynxtwo added a haunting wail to the chaos that immediately chilled his newly-mended back. Ah, there goes my plan, lasting all of a few seconds – but this new situation might be better. Yet more lightning crashed down, and he sent an uncomfortably still Eeveetwo out and towards the infirmary. Hopefully someone will- no, stay in the moment. The Perish Song.

  I… cannot say it is a poor choice, but will I be able to evacuate everyone in time..?

  Hesitation was defeat. And so, with his jaw locked and fatigue starting to bloom despite Recover’s efforts, Abratwo began to use Teleport. Out, in, out, in, he moved pieces on the three-dimensional chessboard that existed in his mind’s eye. Perish Song was a powerful move, but also a fragile one; a target needed to hear it in full to be affected. Not necessarily clearly, but in full.

  Meaning that even a second spent in the adjacent buildings was enough. His world narrowed in one sense and expanded in another, dissolving into lines of causality as Futuresight replaced light and vibration with something eminently less describable – despite the name, it was not comparable to sight in the slightest.

  But where language failed, practice allowed the kadabra to forge ahead. Squirtle is about to be struck, so move him first – surprised he lasted so long. Sandshrew is doing well, leave him until after Growlithe. Opening for a Power Gem against the Zapdos – do I take it..? No, better to stay as support for the moment…

  Why the hell is Meowthtwo even still here? Ridiculous…

  Time passed, nebulous and far-away – and then the amount of energy Abratwo could fit into the move ran dry, and he was once again in the present. Everyone was where they’d been, and the deja vu was overwhelming.

  Then the valiantly Bubblebeaming wartortle blinked away, reality catching up with accelerated spacetime, and he shook himself. Disorienting. So many moving pieces…

  A step, another Light Screen, and the fight continued.

  “Rah!”

  The Shadow Ball flew free, concentrated malice bloated until its size equaled that of his torso – and propelled with enough force to create a sonic boom.

  And yet his opponent matched it. Mewtwo watched as Mew, a living myth, his predecessor, and supposedly the source of all life, sent the attack aside with uncanny familiarity. My own defence. This entire time, I believed myself clever for devising it – was it really just instinct? I… He discarded the introspection as her riposte engulfed him. A wide-ranging strike, flower petals sharp as volcanic glass – Petal Blizzard? Not nearly enough to penetrate my defences. What is she..? Ah.

  Realisation dawned swiftly enough to dodge, and the great inferno from his other foe consumed only the set-up grass move. Clever. “You speak,” he said as another Shadow Ball grew between his cupped hands. “You are intelligent, as we are.”

  The conversation did little to dull the intensity of their battle, Mew’s bubble shield deforming as he smashed the ghost move directly into her. “Mew!” [I am.]

  “Then… I implore you to cease. Join me, and-!” A burst of childish giggles interrupted – or rather, the raw fury they instilled in him interrupted. You-! “Do not dare mock me!” I am the ultimate form of life! My strength…

  “Mew!” [Apologies, child. But I will not be cajoled into allowing you to annihilate the work of ten thousand generations. You have been wronged-]

  …Exceeds yours! In the tiny gap between one telepathic word and the next, Mewtwo struck; abandoning defence completely, he allowed a swirling fireball and blast of pink to flash-fry his skin and plunge into and through his chest respectively – all in favour of a concentrated, all-out attack. Our psychic abilities may be matched, but our bodies are not!

  [-I admit that, but to take out- What are-?] “M-mew?!”

  Mewtwo moved, briefly exceeding the top speed of his previous attacks. Psystrike!

  A beat of stillness – and then, as her successor allowed himself a pained exhale from his new position behind her, Mew all but exploded. “‘Allow’? As though I need, or desire, your permission.” Not yet perfect. My body cannot handle the strain… Where the Moltres had seared through skin and muscle and Mew’s attack had left a circular bruise all the way through his body, the move he’d custom-built to take advantage of all his strengths had left hairline cracks though the majority of his skeleton. But nothing that cannot be healed. And speaking of the Moltres…

  He turned, and saw the great bird looking back with an almost incredulous expression as its supposed mother fell, reduced to pink goo. Hmm, the difference between us was even greater than expected. To be mangled to such an extent… Then it shrieked, joined a fraction of a second later by its siblings, and Mewtwo once again made an allowance – this time for a cocky smile. “Not giving up?”

  In a mirror to his own actions only moments before, the legendary birds abandoned defense entirely. Continuing to cry in rage, they converged on his location.

  And he laughed, following the inaudible expulsion of air with a Psychic and a taunt. “How foolish!”

  After Mew’s death it was… well, not easy, not at all. But defeating the Three Heavenly Generals was less fraught without her support, and though they had put up a startling resistance – a massive Tri-Attack in particular, strong enough that Mewtwo was forced to the edge of consciousness – the New Kingdom carried the day.

  Or perhaps I should say that Jynxtwo carried the day, Abratwo thought as he surveyed the damage.

  The rather extensive damage; the tower they'd been in had been knocked clean over, a feat the kadabra would have struggled to accomplish with an entire day's effort and all the Ether and Elixir he could stomach. The nearby central tower, too, had sustained damage, and the great windmill that adorned it was now missing half its blades.

  Their people had also suffered, though remarkably they'd made it through with only a single death. Arcus guard your soul, Charmandertwo, you foolhardy beast. Perhaps it was callous to consider it positively when any of their number had fallen, but looking out at the rubble it was all too easy to imagine things having gone much worse. The younger clones being crushed to paste in the opening moments, the Generals’ ace-in-the-hole combination falling among the crowd rather than the Master. Or Geodude’s fumble landing just slightly more severely, leaving no one to blunt the Perish Song’s effects among our side… That attack had, after all, been strong enough to ground two of the three, and knock the more damaged Moltres out outright.

  Smoke swirled over everything, sections still smouldering, and Abratwo exhaled. Yes. A black day… but one we shall arise from, and all the stronger. Today they, all of them – in spirit if not practice – had slain not only Kanto's patron deities but Lady Mew as well. A more potent symbol of the old world’s coming replacement, he could not fathom. It is almost difficult to believe, and I was here. It was always obvious that Mew existed, that was plainly obvious through Mewtwo’s creation, but…

  Well, there would be time to dwell on the theological implications of the day later. For the moment, the seneschal had work to do – Mewtwo was being tended to by Chanseytwo, so it was his duty to get people sifting through the rubble. Fix the ruptured gas and electrics first, before something decides to explode, then… A funeral, I think. Having the victory speech first would be tacky. The next generation will keep in their pods for a bit even if they were scheduled to wake tonight, no urgency there, but…

  But…

  But..? Why do I suddenly feel short of breath..? He really did. Abratwo fought with his lungs for a moment, but the sensation didn't appear to be due to any deficiency in the organs. What is happening? [Chansey, is everything alright with our Master?]

  The extent of his telepathy was far from strong enough to allow for true mind-reading, but catching a deliberately-sent confirmation – or refutation – was within its bounds. Relief bloomed as a feeling of positivity came back from the normal type, and Abratwo hoped, for a moment, that the strange feeling would be revealed to have been nothing more than adrenaline withdrawal.

  But it did not dissipate – in fact, as he stared absently at the citizens picking through the ruin of what had been the audience chamber only minutes ago, the kadabra noticed other heads looking around in confusion. Hands and paws held to chests for a moment, curled brows and twisting lips.

  Then, a slight sound. Almost a whisper, nothing he would have even noticed in other circumstances, and Abratwo turned expecting to see either nothing at all, or at most Spearowtwo shifting her weight from a rooftop.

  And he did indeed see a large bird resting high above their collective heads – but it was not a fearow. No, it was not a fearow at all.

  Radiant feathers like tongues of flame beaten into shape, scattering the light revealed by the dissipated clouds into countless rainbows. A curling crest and trailing tail, a snow-white belly and feet of vibrantly dark and almost metallic blue. And more than the striking colours, the size – it was easily twice as large as any of the Heavenly Generals, seeming to bear down on everything with a weight like the sky was falling.

  He knew what it was, instantly and without the slightest hint of doubt. “No…” Abratwo whispered under his breath. “That’s not…”

  Whether he would have said possible or fair or some other word would remain a mystery even to himself, as the exhausted kadabra was forcibly silenced by the arrival of a sixth legend. The even larger form was heralded by a spray of seawater as it emerged from the ocean flying straight up – and this fifth and final great bird was revealed to be featherless, bearing only rubbery silver skin like a whale. Its wings were closer to thick-fingered hands than anything else – in fact, as it arced across and down to settle next to the Ho-Oh, Abratwo reflected that the only things describing the Lugia as a bird were myths and legends. Unlike its counterpart, the Guardian of the Sea did not roost on top of a shrine built for its worship.

  No, side by side it looked nothing like the Phoenix of the Rainbow – more of a sea creature, the fact it could fly merely incidental, completely separate from the construction of its body.

  [My children,] came a familiar psychic impression, feminine and delicate, and the kadabra realised he had, in fact, stopped breathing entirely. What- no, where?! Where is-? [I am sorry to trouble you, but it seems my strength was not enough.]

  You're paste! Literal paste! [Mew! Where are you?! Show yourself, you-!] Mewtwo is still recovering! We can't- another battle will-!

  [Please, settle this matter where your silly mother failed.]

  A great bellow, deep and soulful, was joined by a higher, shriller cry – and then, as one, the Ho-Oh and Lugia descended.

  “Wakeupwakeupwake- Oh, thank the creator!”

  Mewtwo jolted, and for a moment he hadn't the faintest idea of where he was or what he was seeing. Then the unlikely events of the past… however-long returned, and he understood. The clear blue sky. That's what's above me. It had been so long since he'd seen it unobscured by the gathering clouds of destiny…

  It's gone. The storm… Years of effort, ended in a day. And yet despite that, the clone felt… clean. Hah. I suppose proving the superiority of our race is eclipsing my other emotions. Mew, to think that you've been alive, living under my nose all this time… How had she found him, anyway? Did she pick up my transmitted dreams? Or perhaps those bestial old gods alerted her somehow… Well, no matter. Right now, his priority should be to-

  “Master!” cried a stuffy voice, and Mewtwo jolted again. “Please! Y-y-you have to..!”

  “Chanseytwo.” Who was holding a Hyper Potion – a very limited item given their lack of access to the ingredients. “I suppose I have you to thank for my swift recovery.” My wounds must have been even more dire than I’d believed. He flexed his muscles and, with smooth motions, rose. Newly-replenished power cracked beneath his skin, no doubt sourced from one of the trained nurse’s nutritious eggs. But I suppose today of all days is worth cracking into the best supplies. “Is there a reason I am not in the infirmary? Ah, or was it damaged by-”

  “Master Mewtwo!” The exclamation made him blink, and at long last the ruler of New Island took in the open terror on the chansey’s face. “I-I-I’m sorry, you aren't healed all the way, but-! But-! But the island is-”

  A great, drawn-out noise, not quite an explosion but close to such – and in a moment of epiphany, Mewtwo realised he'd just heard another tower crashing to the ground.

  “…Still under attack,” Chanseytwo finished, and he stared at her for a fraction of a second as understanding deserted him. The slightest whiff of smoke reached his nose, and dust irritated his eyes.

  Then his likely-concussed brain caught up to his senses, and with a twist of energy Mewtwo popped away – right into what was revealed to be an expanding cloud of fire hidden beneath the more mundane powdered stone.

  “INTRUDERS!” came the voice of his master, and in a show of power equal to his volume the phoenix’s holy fire was blown away by a burst of air.

  The god-like Hurricane came at Abratwo much too fast to dodge – and yet, the flash of panicked fear it provoked proved unnecessary. The attack passed over his fur with no more force than a spring breeze – an allowance that was not extended to either of the great – greater – birds.

  The Lugia only caught the edge of it, no doubt alerted by its fellow psychic’s teleportation; with a bellow it twirled, blurring as though a dissolving cloud rather than flesh and blood, and Abratwo struggled to understand what the legend was doing as it seemingly phased right through the punishing winds. But the Ho-Oh had no such defense, and with a strangled cry it struck a tower – and broke it clean in half, continuing and being dashed against two others and passing from the kadabra's view.

  Even with the burning grasp of fear wrapped around his heart, there was a part of him that felt nothing but admiration. Power, true power. We aren't finished yet, not so long as-

  As though aiming to crush his hope directly, the great phoenix rose back up on wings shining with the golden light of morning. If there was damage, it was too subtle to be visible – and neither were its motions pained as Ho-Oh flapped, scattering that holy fire like raindrops.

  Hydro Pump gathered in his core, then gushed out in a torrent of pressure. Abratwo held the move for a second, joined by others as the island's water types saw flame and instinctively responded – and then their efforts exceeded his as the middle-stage clone’s reserves dipped worryingly low.

  And yet, despite the veritable wall of water sent their way – and despite said moves being enhanced by the soggy environment – the warm, gentle-looking flames were not extinguished. They simply flash-boiled their way through, emerging unharmed, and fell upon the gathered citizens. Alarm bloomed and Abratwo teleported, overextending to take the nearest clone – Scythertwo – with him, the others fleeing by way of their own moves or sheer speed.

  But not all – not nearly all. As he reached the hastily-picked destination of a lavatory, thick-walled and sturdy, he heard screams. Distant, faint, and yet they still cut. Damnation.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Mewtwo was not the only combatant with legendary strength. The Generals weren't like this. They were powerful, but… But this was a different level. Do I go back? My attacks won't…

  As Scyther made her own decision and quickly bounded away, powerful legs and wings taking her to top speed instantly, Abratwo hesitated. The infirmary, he settled on, discarding the more courageous option of returning to the fight. Potions and other medicine – those will help more than a single person's offensive power. It was a reasonable, logical conclusion – but as power flowed through his spoon and folded space once more, the New Kingdom’s second-in-command knew that his true reasoning was not born of reason or logic.

  I thought this fear had been crushed out of me. And yet… And yet white-hot fingers caressed the inside of his chest, as unstoppable as Ho-Oh’s Sacred Fire.

  But he moved. A step connecting here to there, a moment to chug some of their distressingly sparse supply of energy restoratives, then another Teleport back – and he was once again in hell.

  Do not think, the kadabra thought as he all but smashed Potions and crude ceramic amphoras of concentrated fruit extracts into his fellows’ rolling bodies. Do not look. The burns were horrifying, beyond anything he'd ever seen even while scavenging in the wake of Cinnabar's apex predators. Do not- do not-

  He vomited, and the bile, too, felt too hot, boiling, tearing apart his throat as it erupted. Only his grip on his spoon, silver turning bronze as it reflected the firelight, kept the kadabra from collapsing. I…

  I do not know what to do. Below him Geodudetwo rose up, the healing liquid causing rough stone to bubble forth from his hide like coral growing in fast-forward. Even our most durable fighters were put down by that. Eeveetwo was his next target, the vapoureon having weathered the candle-sized flames visibly better.

  And yet, despite the Potion poured over the slight wounds and into his mouth, he failed to stir, or even twitch. Abratwo stared for a moment as the battle continued around him, chunks of stone the size of houses being thrown like fistfuls of gravel. Then he turned his little brother over, and saw that most of the other side of his chest was gone. Eeveetwo had rolled over before succumbing, no doubt trying to suffocate the flames with dirt.

  Something in the oldest clone died as he stared into the corpse’s half-closed, all-black eyes. It wasn’t- it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Why?

  Why is this happening? You… you…

  “You shouldn’t be here…” the kadabra mumbled, nearly incoherent even to his own ears. “This is our place… Our home…” In his hand, the spoon gleamed. “Our New Kingdom…”

  “Abra?” the graveler rumbled, two rough hands falling on Abratwo’s hip. “You have to leave him – the others…”

  The others? The..? The others. And, a thought that urged him to move even more: the enemy. Abratwo shoved the remaining medicine into Geodude’s four arms, and then teleported.

  Up, to the highest roof, that of the half-destroyed throne room. Lock-On. Smoke became suddenly translucent, and the Ho-Oh glowed brightly down below. It was fighting Mewtwo, the latter obviously still injured despite Chansey’s ministrations, psychic waves fighting the god’s holy aura. Ho-Oh was damaged, but as Abratwo watched he could see feathers returning – not growing back, but reconstructing themselves like time was moving backwards, ash flowing in and burning in reverse. Calm Mind. Nasty Plot. Belly Drum.

  The feeling of tapping his spoon lightly against his chest was agony, the normal type energy even more unruly than Giga Impact’s; it tore him apart, visible wafts of power venting from cracks in his armour.

  And yet he continued. Agility. Dragon Dance. Swords Dance. Harden. Using the Belly Drum first had, in hindsight, been a mistake; the rampant strength made everything else more difficult. Amnesia. Rock polish. But his body was nothing more than a puppet, and it would endure what he ordered. Pain did not matter, fatigue did not matter; his soul was cold silver, unfeeling, a refracting lens for his mind – and it was the spoon that pointed towards the legendary phoenix as he used one more move. Kinesis.

  Power was focused and loosed, and despite the massive distance the Lock-On did its job; Ho-Oh cried out as its left eye let out a spray of jelly. Good. The expression of pain satisfied – but not nearly enough. So he teleported once again, limbs rattling with barely-controlled strength.

  Night Slash.

  He fought. Whatever fear that had existed before was buried beneath frostbitten silver, and he struck without hesitation, without regard for his life – but not stupidly. Abratwo was not enraged. He wasn’t even angry. He wasn’t anything.

  He was a doll, hollow limbs moving by way of psychic power, his eyes and ears sending their data somewhere far away. Again and again he struck, never still, giving not a drop of concern for stamina as around him, New Island became an abstract pattern of danger and safety. There, a place to stand. There, a collection of meat and bone that needed to be moved away from flames. There, the keystone – a vastly more powerful ally, in whose way the kadabra must never, never step.

  Ten, a hundred, perhaps a thousand times Abratwo struck at the Ho-Oh’s body and wings and head, drawing blood like the sunset made liquid. And, with Mewtwo and all the rest, they began to win out over the beast’s regeneration.

  Then the Lugia reappeared, and his master was dashed to the ground by a great slap. Some of the cold calculation went away. I- I forgot about it. Where has it..?

  The rest of the island. The noncombatants – the incubators. Fury bloomed, and with a roar Abratwo unleashed a Power Gem condensed from light – only for the guardian to shrug off the attack like it had been a puff of air.

  “You-!” [Die! Die, foul creature!] He switched to Dark Pulse, and teleported-

  Or at least, he attempted to teleport. But with a tilt of its head the Lugia churned the fabric of space to tattered rags, and Abratwo’s move not only failed, it lashed back on him. His body, half in one place and half another, jolted as it was forced back into three dimensions, and the taste of blood overpowered the bile still on his tongue. “Urg-!”

  He fell – and was caught by Mewtwo. No! [Don't…]

  Mewtwo only smiled. “You've fought well, Abratwo. Rest for a moment.” On either side of them flapping wings cut the air. We're pincered. “Your strength will be necessary in the new world.”

  Don't you dare-!

  A cannon of concentrated air came at them from one side, and a flurry of fragile dancing embers the other. They touched the ground at the same time the attacks landed, and the kadabra, still cradled in his master's arms, attempted to muster a defence-

  Which failed. But Mewtwo's did not; a blue bubble, not unlike the one Mew had surrounded herself with, expanded from his body, and both legendary strikes were blunted. The ground was torn up as the two psychics became the centre of an explosion – but as the embers cleared, they were still alive. Not quite untouched… but far from the melting husks Abratwo had been envisioning as he'd watched the fire and wind combine. “Did you think I was about to sacrifice myself?” Mewtwo asked, still smiling, and his seneschal had no reply.

  Then the island's ruler looked up, and the moment of near-levity fell away. “Mew,” he said – or perhaps ordered. “Show yourself.”

  As the deities of Indigo’s west circled, wary now that they'd encountered a spot of resistance, Abratwo wriggled free from the larger psychic's grasp. He dropped to the ground – which put him in the perfect position to see tiny pink blobs, no larger than dew, rising from the ground. The viscera? Is she immortal? To survive being completely torn apart… He'd been assuming that Mew's death had been an illusion, but now… But then he realised his mistake; as the tiny bits of pink goo took to the air and began to glom together, it very quickly became apparent that what Mew had become was not flesh and bone reduced to jelly by extreme force, but actual jelly. For a moment she was only a ball of… stuff, head-sized and translucent.

  Then the goo turned to – returned? Mimicked? – true flesh and blood, and Mew looked exactly as she had in the first moment she'd revealed herself. Small, with short fur of a pale pink – obviously related to Mewtwo, though less than the other clones resembled their own predacessors. [My child-]

  “I am no-one’s child.”

  […I am sorry it has come to this. But I have watched you as you worked, and become certain – you will not cease, will you?] The Pokémon bobbed, her long tail curling up through her legs to brush her stomach. [Or am I wrong?]

  Mewtwo took a breath. “I… have been arrogant.”

  She blinked. [Do-]

  “No, I am not surrendering. But I must acknowledge reality; from the moment you appeared, I have been fighting with one arm held sternly to my back.” Abratwo watched his master rise from his seat on the ground, not quite following the conversation – the pause had allowed the long, hard battles to catch up to him, and the kadabra was struggling with the urge to simply lay down and let come what may. “Not consciously,” Mewtwo continued. “No, not consciously at all…”

  Power flared – not only psychic energy, but something else too. Something thicker, harder and yet stickier, dredged up from the metaphorical sea floor of the clone's spirit. “But I have. For years, I have rejected my humanity. But I am a human, as much as I am a Pokémon. So!” He reared back, twisting, and between his palms a Shadow Ball grew. “Let this be our true confrontation! The old world versus the new! Mew, let us see whose destiny is greater!”

  They clashed. Mewtwo fought not only Archeanism’s mythical creator goddess, but the gods of Johto as well – and it was, somehow, a fair fight. Over and over Mew and her successor struck each other, twisting through the air like- like-

  Comparison failed, and even as other clones overcame the godly pressure and joined their efforts to this last climactic moment, Abratwo could only barely sit up. Gods, he thought. Actual gods. How could I have ever thought to compete? To stand on the same stage as this?

  When the two sides struck, it sent shockwaves through the air. When they actually hit one another, it felt like space was breaking apart. The towers that had survived the battle thus far didn't last long, and the residents of the island only fared better because none of the three enemies were paying them more than token attention.

  Or at least, that was true for a time. But as Mewtwo continued to endure their onslaught, the Ho-Oh and Lugia’s eyes began to wander – and in a moment of premonition, the kadabra's arm swept out. “Growlithe!” [Dodge!]

  A lash of sacred fire came down – and Growlithetwo was able to dodge. She snarled, sending her own flames back, and at long last he found the willpower to stand.

  Sitting on the ground? While the others fight? Pathetic. The New Kingdom will not be built by Mewtwo alone – it may have been his hands that raised these once-magnificent towers from bedrock, but the lives within are our own!

  And no amount of destruction would stop them, not so long as they lived. Abratwo’s muscles tensed…

  And once more, he threw himself into the fight.

  And, sadly, his renewed conviction only made it even more terrible when they lost.

  In the aftermath of the battle, there had been a moment of joy in despair.

  [Wait,] Mew ordered, and the Lugia's limb stilled before it could deliver the killing blow. And maybe it was a mercy, but it didn’t seem so from where the kadabra lay; splayed out on the shattered ground, Mewtwo looked wretched.

  “Going to… gloat?” he asked, head half-raised, and Abratwo felt tears soak his fur. He too was lying on the ground, and his condition was arguably worse even than his master's – it was ambiguous. Mewtwo had all his limbs, yes, but the kadabra’s physiology handled injury better; his joints were all but made to pop off, arms and legs hollow and sacrificial like a lizard’s tail. Recover would see them regrow easily, and his body knew that, so there was little actual pain.

  Not so with Mewtwo, who was no doubt in agony.

  [No, child.] Mew, too, was damaged – damaged for real, this time. Her tiny, neotenic body was bearing long bleeding rends, and her fur had gone ashen where it wasn't singed black. Her ichor was not red, but clear as filtered water. [I…] She bobbed. [I did not- I do not wish it to come to this. Surrender; give up your ambitions, and simply… live. Is that really so terrible?]

  Abratwo nearly laughed, and apparently Mewtwo felt the same; he scoffed before replying. “Surrender… live… My people are decimated. There is no life, not like this…

  “End it.”

  Abratwo agreed with every word. And yet, despite an impatient look from the Guardian of the Sea, Mew continued to hesitate. [What if… I could fix it? Some of it, at least?] Fix it? What foolishness.

  Again, his master echoed the kadabra's thoughts. “Can you bring back the dead? No. You came here to stop my ambitions… do so. I am in great pain.”

  And then… golden light.

  Now, it was only devastation. New Island was nothing more than rubble, or burning rubble in some places, and his only companion – who’d found him despite the former senechal’s efforts to get some damn time to himself – was barely coherent.

  “Soes,” the companion in question said from below. “Youse gotta plan, Mist’r Wois Guy?”

  Abratwo looked down at the unevolved Meowth, needing to actively resist the urge to kick him. [No. Do you?]

  A shrug. “Find me crew? Dere all’a dem still kick’n, most-like. Ya ain't gonna go back’n-” A string of words too mangled to discern even with a year’s worth of familiarity. While Meowthtwo had never been the most articulate of his siblings, living among a band of war profiteers had somehow rocketed him to the bottom of the pack. “-Ol’ Blaine?”

  […No.] Abratwo would not be going back to Cinnabar. I… wrote him off as worth sacrificing. All of them. Despite feeling righteous anger only minutes ago, the him of the present felt no desires other than to sit amongst the ruin of his second home and… take it in.

  And he did, for a time – Meowth, however, apparently shared no such ennui. A swift motion, and the kadabra felt the plates of his knee-joint shift; the cat had kicked him.

  “Well, phooey ta ya, den! Goin’ all superior genes dis ‘n I ’m a man dat, jus’ rot fer all I care!” Meowth marched away, and Abratwo watched him go.

  …Hm. Emotional idiot; it's been less than an hour, can I not sit and process things for a time?

  And following the thought, that was what he did.

  Abratwo was gobsmacked- or no, he was god-smacked; with literal deities involved there was no need to obfuscate. [Bulbasaur..?]

  The venusaur shook himself, whole and undoubtedly alive – an impressive feat given that he'd been a mangle of leathery hide and crushed plant matter only moments ago. “Abra..? I feel like I've slept for a month…”

  All around them people were getting to their feet, and the kadabra was in awe. Resurrection..? This- I cannot-! The shame of his cowardice fled, and he looked first to the Ho-Oh, perched imperiously on one of the more intact buildings with its wings spread, then to Mew – the one who was truly to thank, given the phoenix's obvious distaste with its task.

  [Thank you… Lady Mew, I…] Words failed.

  And yet as she spoke back, the mythical Pokémon was sad. “Mew…” [I hope you can accept what happened, and make peace. Life is too short for pointless conflict.]

  The reply made no sense to him – at least until he heard one of his siblings cry out.

  “Hey!” called Geodude. “Hey, Eevee ain't gettin’ up!” He looked to Ecruteak’s patron deity, whose posture had settled into something more natural. “Y-you ain't done yet! Don't stop, ya big- ya big pigeon!”

  “Mew.” [My Ho-Oh is a proud creature,] Mew continued. [I cannot ask him to do anything but follow his heart…] “Mew.” [So I am afraid that this is all I can offer.]

  It was a miracle – undoubtedly a miracle, but not one given freely. Many of the dead had been returned to life, including the three lesser legends… but as Abratwo's eyes wandered, he saw that none of his people who'd been slain directly by the Rainbow Phoenix stirred. Their bodies had been returned to wholeness, but they remained dead.

  Ashes. Nothing but ashes… The debris crashed down to earth as he ceased lifting them, and Abratwo stared at the pile for a moment.

  Then a savage gesture once more lifted the ruin of his life skyward, though substantially less gently; the kadabra was no longer searching, but lashing out. The stone and twisted metal flew, and he screeched over the impact as it struck a different-yet-identical pile. “COWARDS!” The word was directed at nothing; wherever Meowthtwo had gotten to, it wasn't within the arc of his senses. “Live as a Pokémon?! Who would agree to that?!”

  A wordless cry issued from his mouth as he struck out again, another Psychic powdering already-destroyed foundations. Then, a softer, more defeated sentence. “Who would agree to that…” Other than every other citizen save for him and Meowth, that was. Ingrates. We could have fought them – the Ho-Oh was taxed from its miracle, it had to be, while we were hale and hearty. We could have won…

  But soon enough the rage ran dry. Abratwo stood, panting, cursing Mew, cursing Mewtwo – and cursing himself.

  The turn happened with shocking swiftness. One moment they were triumphant, hammering the trio of enemies with superior numbers from behind the bulwark of Mewtwo's incredible durability – and then, their leader was falling.

  [Master!] Abratwo cried, first shocked – when had he been struck? His shield was still intact – and then relieved as the young god righted himself.

  “Hm. So little – I'm afraid this is a muscle I've never had to flex before.”

  A gesture, and a great blast of air was diverted – mostly. And yet despite only being struck by a fraction of the attack, Mewtwo's defences wavered.

  Stamina. Without a word Abratwo used Teleport, luxuriating in the ability – though brief, the time where the Lugia had denied it to him burned like a hot coal wedged between his skull and brain. But with its entire attention focused on attack and defence it had none left to grasp space, and so when he stepped back the kadabra did so with what was possibly the last restorative left on the island: an over-the-counter headache remedy meant for human use, that, entirely incidentally, contained a minute amount of the same substance used in the more powerful Pokémon medicines.

  He tossed it, and Mewtwo caught the foil packet without looking. The entire thing went in his mouth, and he crunched down, frowning at the taste-

  But no, it was too extreme an expression for it to just be that. [Mewtwo?]

  Abratwo's query was left unanswered as another round of attacks struck them – and the shield of blue energy actually popped. “Damnation!” his master cried, and as he frantically dodged and counter-attacked the kadabra intuited the truth.

  It's the other energy – the power of DNA. Pokéfruit extract won't do a thing. So how, then? Mewtwo's newfound ability to express his full power was the only thing keeping hope alive – a fact aptly demonstrated as the New Island forces immediately began losing ground while their leader was forced to move defensively. [What do we-]

  An attack from Mew, not any structured move but something wild and vast, and again Mewtwo moved to shield him and the other clones – and this time, the bubble shield collapsed before fully absorbing the force churning against it.

  And then, mere moments later, the true and final turning point. “Three seconds,” Mewtwo choked out, and his student’s eyes widened. Last three seconds? Against- against this? Alone?

  Or the next best thing to alone; their numbers were less than they had been, and spread out over a larger area as well. Abratwo was one of the only ones who could keep up with their master – and so, the only one who could defend him. His innards churned as two massive shapes sensed weakness… and dove. Abratwo could only raise his spoon, and-

  And he wrenched himself from the memory by force, shaking. Coward, he thought, and this time it was directed inward.

  At that crucial moment his instinctive fear had once more thrust out with its hideous crown and scepter, and taken control as though he were nothing, no more than a child cowering in a supply closet. And… the kadabra had teleported away. Mewtwo had taken the attack with everything he could muster, but the fight had been over once the lynchpin came loose.

  And it had been entirely, entirely, his fault. One attack. One! You only had to block one, you-!

  He very nearly flung his spoon together with the loose ball of wreckage that was his latest stress relief. It was good that he didn't – beyond the fact that it was the centre and focus for his psychic abilities, almost equal to the fatty mass of grey meat sitting despondently in his skull, the edge of the island was quite close. Close enough for frothy brine to sprinkle his face as he heaved.

  What felt like an hour or more of searching, and still no sign of Meowth. For how desperately the feline had gone to find him after he'd rushed off following his little speech, Abratwo would have assumed he'd have stayed close by – but a rather large chunk of the newly-flattened island had passed under his feet, and the kadabra had yet to see a glimpse of cream fur.

  And you know what? whispered his subconscious as he arbitrarily picked a new direction to wander in, every thought turning back towards shame as though pulled by crushing gravity. I could have done it. The DNA energy – I think I could have actually blocked with it, if only once.

  But that didn't matter, of course. He’d never even tried – it could have been as easy as drawing breath, and he would still have betrayed everything. Useless. Useless!

  He continued to hunt, marking out bits and pieces that might serve as material for something seaworthy… but even as a brilliant blood-red sunset heralded the last of the years-long storm dissolving to leave a perfectly clear sky, there was on-one. Either Meowth had found his own way off the island – an absurdity equal to any that had occurred – or he’d thrown himself into the sea.

  Kiribo had conversed with his partner through telepathy before. He was capable of it, in the least sort of manner, and the alakazam was an expert despite his species’s lack of natural talent for the skill.

  It was a strange and esoteric thing, speaking in images and feelings as much as words – intimate, and yet distant, for even though they shared blood and purpose his brother on the warrior’s path remained… alien, in some ineffable way. There was friction, concepts that were so plainly obvious to one mind they could not be wholly expressed to the other.

  But there was no friction with the Sync Stone. Instantly, unreservedly, Kiribo Kimigawa saw and accepted all of what his partner was – and the phenomenon was reciprocated. Brother! This, this-! This power!

  POWER, Abratwo returned, the thought expansive and nuanced. POWER. PURPOSE.

  Yes! A thousand times yes. For his entire life, Kiribo had been searching; for the peak, for the limit, for a grand battle that pushed him to his utmost. For a lord to tame an unruly ronin, or, failing that, to become a lord himself – not literally, of course, but in spirit. He had searched for mastery.

  And now, that elusive sparrow had at long last settled down in his hand. Power, pure potential, flowed through his body, in and out, out and in; it did not matter that it was Abratwo holding the stone, because they were the same. Shall we do it now, my partner?

  EXCEED, came the reply – and it was already happening. It was not without pain, but what was pain? Was it a wall capable of stopping them for even a moment?

  No! NO!

  And so a new evolution burst forth; the alakazam’s body shifted, mass moving upwards from the legs to settle in the chest and forearms, armour growing thicker as sturdy, clawed feet became as articulate as any hand. His noble moustache grew into a great and flowing white beard, and his head changed too – and arguably more. It expanded, the skull growing taller and taller until it exceeded the height of his horns, and a red gem condensed of pure psychic power grew out from his forehead – only to detach, forming into a new spoon as crimson fluid flowed into the depression and hardened.

  Again, and again – and as the lightshow of overflowing energy dimmed Abratwo had five perfect silver spoons to go with the seven twisted ones around his neck. His clothes no longer fit, the hat askew and his vest and holsters tight and loose respectively, but that was a trifle.

  “We…” Kiribo gasped, startlingly drained and energised all at once. “We have done it.”

  [We have,] his partner replied, voice clearer than ever. Through their link the samurai saw Abratwo testing his newfound strength, Futuresight questing forward with ease, his body lifting off delicate legs to flout gravity’s hold. [This body is… weak.]

  “Is it?” It did look less… capable, but surely Mega Evolution would not diminish a Pokémon’s capabilities? “Shall we test that, brother?”

  [Hmm…] A flex, and the Mega Alakazam drew his original spoons from their ill-fitting containers. [Yes. Let us watch the rabble be lifted towards us, and then have a… test.]