Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 141 - Final Wings

There he stood, the final remnant of Rhys, mindless and operating on the basic instructions that he had left behind. His battle stance was the same; Owen knew it all too well, even though the memories would be even more painful and prominent to Team Alloy. But Owen, too, had trained under him for a while.

"But... it's Rhys," Owen said quietly.

"There is nothing left of him in there but instructions, Owen," Lucario said. "Please, I understand it looks like him, but I'm Rhys, now. And I know precisely what I wanted at the time this was created: for the power to go away from Dark Matter, and toward someone who is supposed to carry us to victory. Owen, I believe you are the most in need of this power, among Team Alloy's quartet.

"It must be you."

"It... it can't." Even in this part of Hot Spot, the caves had collapsed, revealing the clear and bright skies. It still felt so good on his scales, but somehow it couldn't fill that empty feeling in his chest when he stared back at Rhys' remnant.

"Is there," Demitri said, "even a trace of Rhys in that we can talk to?"

"I'm afraid not," Lucario said. "It's all with me. That aura is nothing but power and instructions, and it won't last, either. Over time, it will decay and weaken. Now is the best time for you to strike it down."

It all spoke to reason, and Owen knew he was correct. That didn't make the pain any better, though. With an unease in every step, Owen approached the aura Lucario and crouched, tail up, knees bent, arms forward and a little wide. Alert, ready, defensive for now.

"Alright," Owen said. "Come on, Rhys. One... one last battle."

For the first few seconds, neither of them moved. Owen wondered if Rhys was waiting for the first action, or if it simply hadn't 'activated' yet. Eventually, Owen lost his nerve and shifted his weight, spitting a small ember toward Rhys.

That was enough. It weaved past the ember and sped toward Owen with a paw outstretched, aura forming at the end. Owen brought his arms up and deflected it with a gold barrier. He countered with another ember, this time closer, and it struck true. Cyan flames exploded out from Rhys' shoulder, and the mist that it became drifted toward Owen, seeping into his scales with a strange, energetic warmth.

The effects were instantaneous. Massive power and clarity, familiar to Owen but unfamiliar to his current body, rushed over his muscles and all the way to the tips of his claws. His flame was hotter, and everything seemed easier to do. All of that happened in an instant, and when Rhys tried to strike him up close, Owen brought an arm up to stop the swing. The spike on Rhys' paw was inches from his cheek. A gold sheen coated Owen's arm from a hastily conjured Protect.

Owen countered again, this time with a point-blank explosion of fire. More aura poured from Rhys' chest and into Owen's body, and his strength immediately reached new and familiar heights.

This spike in power should have left Owen feeling elated, but unlike so many sparring matches that he'd had in his long, long life... there was no joy he could feel from this fight.

Owen landed another strike. This one was easier than the last, and it also occurred to him, with dissatisfaction, that this aura wasn't much of a skilled fighter at all. Every single movement, which he couldn't Perceive well since it was aura and forces rather than actual matter, was very clearly telegraphed. It wasn't Rhys at his best. Owen wondered how much it had already decayed...

A punch landed in Owen's gut followed by a blast of energy that sent tingling paralysis through his body. Another weak one; he'd seen it coming and elected to take it directly to counter with more fire. Owen wondered if the ease of battle was because it simply didn't have the same smarts that Rhys did. He wondered if the copy Demitri and Mispy had fought was more advanced because Rhys was directly controlling it from afar...