Pokémon Detective Case Files.

Fortunately, the two legendary Pokémon had always been at odds with each other—after seeing Landorus fall into a disadvantageous position, they started to make more small moves to hinder each other, which gave Landorus a little breathing room.

Then, that damn trainer's instructions came again.

The tormented land felt an impatience in its subconscious.

Ever since it was awakened from its seal by Team Plasma and was defeated and captured in the battle against Yoggs, it has never won a single battle in the several battles it has been sent out to fight.

This historian, despite possessing an encyclopedic knowledge of his legendary Pokémon's habits, seemed unable to translate that knowledge into tangible victories. Whether facing Aldera, Hatchling, or now these two defeated adversaries before him—Landoku consistently wielded power far exceeding its opponents', yet each time, the victories that should have been within his grasp slipped through his fingers.

Trust is something that is easier to erode than to build if it is not properly maintained.

There is no such thing as unconditional obedience in this world. A Poké Ball may be a constraint for an ordinary Pokémon, but it is certainly not for a being of the level of Landorus.

Joggs saw the look in Land Cloud's eyes.

Although there were no further hints, he realized that this was probably... the last command he could give to this god of abundance.

Joggs sighed, recalling the ecstatic joy he felt the first time he put a Landorus into a Poké Ball. But this was the inevitable outcome of 'Exiled Shards' plan.

He should even be grateful that Landorus has tolerated a trainer like himself all this time.

Regardless, the Earth Cloud obeyed the command at this moment. The next moment, the rock slab that the God of Abundance had been holding in his mouth once again shone with a thick, earthy yellow light.

Just as the thundercloud and tornado cloud were once again distracted by their friction with each other, countless spikes pierced through the old stone slabs of the ancient ruins, sprouting up like bamboo shoots after a spring rain.

"Spirit Strike".

The two who were suddenly attacked were naturally furious.

What's wrong with Land Cloud? It's already in such a sorry state, yet it keeps provoking us again and again—is it asking for trouble?

Unlike the relatively stable Landorus, the other two legendary Pokémon that control the weather do not have the habit of occasionally burrowing into the desert to hibernate. Because of this, even though they have acquired more rational forms over the long years, the daily assimilation has made their personalities inextricably linked to their respective climates.

Tornado clouds are as wild and fierce as a gale, while thunderclouds are as volatile and extreme as thunder.

On the other hand, although the land cloud activated the stone slab, it was not itself a rock. Its already waning strength naturally could not unleash the full power of "Stone Strike".

However, this move undoubtedly ignited the fury of their arch-enemies.

At that very moment, the Earth Cloud flipped its cloud-riding body, feinted past the Thunder Cloud, and slammed its palm heavily onto the newly risen earth spikes in front of it.

"Rapid Turnaround!"

Amidst the dust and smoke rising from the rubble, the Abundant Pokémon's figure shot off like an arrow, disappearing into the distance towards the altar.

Meanwhile, Joggs was waiting.

As a tiny human being, he hid in the shadows of the passage, his back against the cold stone wall, listening to the continuous roaring sounds coming from the direction of the altar.

Those were the voices of three deities—the muffled thud of rocks crashing into the ground, the shrill whistling of lightning tearing through the air, and the roar of gale-force winds slamming against walls.

Each voice represents an ancient power, and each power has written its own myth under the skies of the Union. And he, a historian buried in old books, can only cower on the edge where the three powers meet, waiting for them to make the final move for him.

Not long after, the floor of the altar began to shake.

Unlike the noise caused by the battle of the Earth Clouds, Yoggs could feel the tremor rising from the soles of his feet, passing through his boots, ankles, and knees, climbing all the way to his beating heart.

This temple has witnessed countless sacrificial ceremonies and endured countless prayers and sacrifices, so it naturally underwent a unique design.

Just like the Plasma Castle designed by the "City Defense Master", even if all the unknown totems here have been abandoned, the building structure itself, which is used to gather energy, will divert the excessive power surging within it to the center of the altar, just like the echo wall of an opera house. However, such forced diversion will greatly reduce the durability of the building itself.

But no one will condemn the historians' destructive behavior now—after all, the temple has been a ruin for hundreds of years. And now, the battle of three legendary Pokémon will awaken it once more.

Energy began to overflow.

First came the earthy yellow, seeping from the cracks in the stone bricks at the center of the altar, resembling aged mud. Next came the bluish-white, crackling with electric arcs, leaping and tearing at the edges of the earthy yellow. Finally, there was the purplish-green representing tornadoes, less intense than the first two, yet the most restless, coiling around the other two like a serpent trying to strangle its two sworn enemies.

The three types of energy tore, merged, and evaporated in the air until a thick pillar of light, pulsating with streams of earthy yellow, blue-white, and purple-green light, condensed at the very center of the altar.

The beam of light was very bright.

Very bright.

It was so bright that even through the eyelids, a residual patch of color could be burned into the field of vision. It was so bright that every crack, every brick joint, and every line of inscription inside the pyramid, which had not been illuminated for hundreds of years, was revealed in an instant, like a corpse dissected by lightning.

it's time.

Jogls stepped forward without hesitation.

Walking through the ruins of the altar, which had almost become a pile of rubble, the broken stone slabs creaked underfoot.

The flashlight was long gone. He threw the now-useless stick on the ground; the sound of the plastic shell hitting the stone slab was swallowed up by the hum of energy, leaving not even a crisp crack.

He took out the antique-looking mirror from his pocket, held it with both hands, and faced it toward the beam of light.

The mirror surface is cool—the perfect temperature for metal that's over a thousand years old.

He raised the mirror, adjusted the angle, and aimed it.

The mirror did not emit light.

There was no dazzling light, no special effects, and no melody from legendary times. It simply received the beam of light, woven from three elemental energies, that emanated from the altar, and then—returned it.

This is the true meaning of "revealing one's true form".

The mirror itself has no power, but it is smooth and faithful enough to reflect back the very side of mythology that it least wants to face, exactly as it appears on the face of mythology itself.

Joggs recalled Akromma's words. The man had said that mirrors don't emit light. Light comes from the object itself, is reflected by the mirror, and is then collected by the viewer's eye.

Now, the source of this light is the three cloud gods.

And the viewers are themselves.

Thunderclouds.

Tornado cloud.

Land Cloud.

What did they see in the beam of light when they were fighting for their lives just a moment ago?

Joges was a historian. He read through all the surviving documents of the Old Kingdom and examined every bamboo slip that remained untouched by insects in the Temple of Plenty.

He knew how, through generations of prayer and worship, humanity had tamed the fierce faces of countless powerful Pokémon into solemn idols, and suppressed the tyrannical and unpredictable celestial phenomena into guardians who occasionally performed good deeds.

But he also knew that those suppressed things had never actually disappeared.

They simply sank. Like this pyramid sinking into the sea, they sank into the deepest recesses of the consciousness of the three cloud gods, awaiting the day they will be salvaged.

What that mirror did was salvage.

Just like what Quixote did to this pyramid.

A reflection itself doesn't steal your soul. But it lets you see the face you've been trying to forget.

The beam of light began to distort.

The boundaries between the three colors blurred, as if someone had stirred ink in water. Earthy yellow, blue-white, and purple-green—the three colors began to swirl, merge, separate, then swirl again, and merge once more.

Three different roars came from the center of the altar.

That was no longer anger—it was closer to fear.

"This is the you I read about in the literature."

As the light faded, the historian's voice echoed in the now-silent altar.

The tornado is no longer a solemn incarnation of a deity. Its body is as streamlined and slender as a bird-like Pokémon, with gray-white vortexes swirling between its wings, and every feather as sharp as a blade.

The thundercloud shed its humanoid shell, revealing a lithe, elongated body covered in blue-purple scales, with lightning crackling between the scales like surging blood.

As for Earth Cloud, the fertility god that Yoggs had personally subdued, its form now resembled a thunder god that had awakened—but with completely opposite attributes. Its four claws emerged from the clouds, its shoulders and back arched like mountain ridges, and its earthy-yellow breath stirred up a sandstorm in the windless space.

Click.

The brown slate fell off its body. It was discarded like worn-out shoes.

The three spirit beasts, who had just acquired their new forms, exchanged glances.

But the nature of this action has completely changed.

In a world of beasts, there is no such tender concept as "respectable nemesis." What exists is only the slaughter between wild beasts, the clash between territories, and the naked hatred between instincts.

The next second, they pounced on each other again.

The battle has resumed.

In this chaotic battle, there were no techniques, no strategies, no "rationality" or "restraint" that humanity had bestowed upon them over thousands of years. There were only claws, teeth, blades, storms, and lightning—three ancient beasts, imprisoned for millennia, tearing each other apart on the altar.

Because the energy of the three Pokémon was redistributed through the Reveal Mirror, Landorus was no longer at a disadvantage, but its two rivals also gained new forms and abilities, inevitably leading to a stalemate in the battle.

Joggs took a few steps back, bent down to pick up the fallen stone slab, and then retreated back to the vicinity of the passage entrance.

Everything was progressing smoothly, almost to an unbelievable degree. But listening to the sounds of the cloud gods fighting in their spirit beast forms, he felt neither the joy of a successful plan nor the thrill of a historian witnessing history firsthand.

I'm just exhausted.

Like a scholar who has finally finished writing the last page of a paper, puts down his pen, looks out the window, and finds that it is already dark, and he can't remember the last time he went out—this is a feeling that Joggs had long forgotten since joining the Plasma Group.

He put the mirror and the stone slab back into his pocket. The mirror still retained the warmth of the energy it had passed through, while the stone slab remained completely unchanged—despite being bitten so hard by the Earth Cloud for so long, it didn't even leave a single tooth mark.

“Keep fighting,” he said in a low voice, his voice drowned out by the roar of claws clashing on the altar. “Once you’ve had your fill, the device will have enough energy.”

The Mirror of Manifestation had been kept in the Shrine of Abundance inland for generations. Even if it had ever had any interaction with this underwater temple, the latter's architectural structure could not have been specifically designed and modified for it. The pillar of light that appeared on the altar was merely a byproduct.

As the three cloud gods in their spirit beast forms continue their battle, the pillar of light gathering energy will surely shine again.

And this time—it will fulfill its original function.

The historian's voice echoed from deep within the passageway.

A long, drawn-out sigh, as if emanating from the earth's core, pierced through layers of stone walls and through millennia of silence, slowly and heavily rising up.

This time, there's no need for the Melody Pokémon's song, nor for the Unown's "Awakening Power".

The pyramids have begun to awaken.

When this underwater temple reappears on the eastern coast of Unova, an unprecedented storm will descend upon the land that this temple once protected.

Only true kings and true heroes can resolve this crisis.

Chapter 489 Eccentricity is the Commission of Talent

Is it getting dark?

The first to notice something amiss was Homiga, the Poison-type Gym Leader of the Unova region.

Just two days ago, this gym leader from Lishui City had traversed the entire Unova to suppress a riot by Team Plasma in Ripple Town. After the mission, the police didn't tell her any further details, and the League headquarters suddenly announced a holiday for everyone, so she decided to relax and wander around this seaside town for a few more days.

At this moment, Homiga was reluctantly leaving the bass section of the local music store—she had lingered in the store for almost an hour over that limited-edition purple bass, but ultimately couldn't bring herself to buy it due to her lack of funds…

The girl looked up and saw the sky. She subconsciously glanced at the clock hanging on the wall inside the shop.

The hands were pointing perfectly straight to three in the afternoon.

However, outside the glass doors of the music store, the sunlight was receding at a visible speed, as if something was slowly pressing down from the sky, squeezing out the light bit by bit.

"It's still broad daylight... Could it be a thunderstorm?"

Homiga, completely oblivious to the danger, glanced at the music magazines displayed by the door again. Just as he was about to pick one up and flip through a couple of pages, a Poké Ball at his waist suddenly shook.

Immediately afterwards, a flash of red light appeared, and a dark blue Pokémon appeared at her feet.

"Huh, what's wrong?"

Homiga looked down at his partner, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

This poison skeletal frog was brought back from abroad by her father when she was young, and she has been raised from a bad frog to the present day.

Its characteristic is... "danger prediction".

Following the gaze of the Poison Skull Frog towards the sea, Homiga initially didn't notice anything unusual—the coastline of Ripple City stretched southeastward as always, with a calm horizon at the edge of the view, and a few fishing boats drifting lazily in the distance, somewhat like the fading notes at the end of an impromptu scene, quietly sinking into the pale blue background noise.

But the next second, she realized something was wrong.

The horizon is moving.

That could not possibly be normal tidal fluctuations, because the entire dividing line separating the sea and the sky was strangely arching upwards, as if something was slowly pushing open the sky from beneath the sea.

Then, the color of that "sky" began to change—gray-blue clouds began to swirl and pile up from the center, like a giant eye slowly opening.

"Croak, croak..."

The poison sacs on the neck of the poison scorpion frog began to swell, and its unpleasant croaking sounded like an alarm in the girl's ears.

"Could it be... a hurricane?"