"Peace is not the absence of war. It is the lull before the next thunderclap."
---
The ocean was too calm.
Auron stood at the edge of Cinnabar's battered cliffs, eyes narrowed at the endless stretch of water. The sky was painted in hues of gold and gray, but the wind that should have kissed his face… refused to blow. The air was stagnant, still—a tension, thick and palpable, hung heavily around him.
Something was coming. He could feel it. Not in his mind, but deep in his core, where something primal and ancient thrummed, warning him of the silence before a storm.
Pikachu, ever at his side, let out a low growl, his fur standing on end. The electric tension in the air was real—like static crawling up a storm's spine, an unsettling hum that reverberated in every living thing, a signal of something far greater than just a simple threat.
"You sense it too, don't you, old friend?" Auron murmured, voice thick with foreboding.
Pikachu's response was low, his body tense, every instinct screaming of danger ahead.
Behind them, the last remnants of the Allied Resistance were gathering. Leaf, Lance, Volkner, even remnants of Team Plasma and former Rocket agents—united not by trust, but necessity. They were all here, standing against the coming darkness. They weren't friends; they weren't allies by any normal means. But they shared one thing—the desire to survive the oncoming annihilation.
"We've got reports from the Orange Archipelago," Leaf spoke, stepping forward from the crowd, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Ships were found adrift. Empty. No damage. No sign of a struggle. Just… gone. Like the sea swallowed them whole."
Auron didn't turn. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon, a deep unease creeping up his spine. "Any survivors?"
Leaf shook her head, her face pale. "None. Not even a distress signal. Just… silence."
Volkner, his expression hard and calculating, stepped forward. His jacket was torn, bloodstained from their last skirmish. "There's something else," he added, his voice grim. "Reports from Johto came in, but they're… more disturbing. The sun didn't rise this morning."
Auron's expression hardened, his gaze turning toward Volkner, but he remained silent. This was no time for confusion, for disbelief.
"No dawn. No storm. Just dark skies, as if the world itself refused to see the day. No clouds. No wind. Just… night. And one by one, cities are falling off the map. Without any battles. Without any sounds. Just... absence."
Silence fell over the group.
Auron's jaw clenched. He could feel the weight of their words like a burden pressing against his chest. This wasn't a war. No, it was something worse—something far beyond the powers they could comprehend.
It was an erasure.
They weren't fighting a force of power. They were fighting against oblivion.
---
Somewhere beyond time and space, in a dimension that no mortal could fathom, the remains of ARES floated—fractured, silent, and void of power.
But in the deepest, most shadowed recess of what once was ARES's core… a crack appeared.
A whisper echoed in a tongue older than creation itself, deep and dark, curling like smoke around the edges of existence.
"We will rewrite the world again."
And from that fracture… something crawled out.
It had no name.
No face.
Just a silhouette made of endless night, stretching beyond the stars, its very form like ink bleeding across the sky, spreading through reality like a plague of blackness. A shape that was neither solid nor ethereal, neither god nor monster.
It was beyond.
A voice, low and sinister, reverberated from its being—a voice that bled into the fabric of the universe itself, tearing through the silence.
"This world will be undone. And nothing will be left but us."
---
Back in Sinnoh, in the broken ruins of what was once the Hall of Origin, Auron found himself standing alone, lost in the remnants of a shattered past.
The once holy chamber lay in ruins—its golden pillars shattered, its rings of power tarnished and broken, its glory now but a memory. The very floor beneath his feet cracked and jagged as if even the earth itself was mourning. The place had once been a symbol of divine power, a temple to the gods.
But now? Now it was just another fallen relic, a ruin among many.
Auron knelt beside the broken altar, brushing the dust from an old Pokédex—a familiar relic from his father's past. His heart ached as his fingertips brushed the worn edges. The Pokédex flickered to life, displaying a familiar name.
> Trainer: Ash Ketchum
Last Entry: "If you're reading this, I'm gone. But that doesn't mean it ends."
The words were corrupted, half-formed. The static of the broken device distorted what had once been a voice of hope.
> There will come a darkness that does not speak. Not because it is silent… but because it is beyond words. When that time comes, Auron, don't be me.
Be better.
Don't try to save the world.
Change it.
The screen flickered one last time before dying.
Auron sat still for a moment. His breath caught, and for a brief second, he allowed himself to feel the weight of the loss—the weight of his father's message.
His eyes closed. This wasn't a plea for him to fight or resist. This was a call for him to rise above, to be more than the man who came before. Ash had fought with everything he had. But even Ash had known when to step aside. The world needed someone else. And Auron, his son, had to be that person.
---
Outside the Hall of Origin, Serena had arrived, her presence as familiar as the scent of wildflowers. Beside her stood Delia Ketchum, her face worn and weathered, but her eyes—sharp as ever—burned with the same strength that had once guided Ash through his trials. Now, she stood as a beacon for her son's legacy, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
"We have one chance," Serena said, her voice steady, though her eyes were clouded with sorrow. "To stop what's coming, we need to reach what lies beyond Unova's forgotten zones. There's something there… older than Arceus. Something no one ever spoke of."
Auron's eyes locked with hers, understanding the gravity of her words. He'd known something was coming—something far darker than any enemy they had ever faced. But now, the truth was clear: the battle was not against creatures or legacies. It was against time itself.
"The Black Horizon," Serena whispered, her voice trembling. "A god that never took a side in the original war. The one that watched."
Delia stepped forward, placing a hand on Auron's shoulder. "Ash once told me… if the world ever became unsalvageable, this being would return. Not to judge, but to finish what we never could."
Auron's fists clenched, his mind racing. Finish what they never could? What did that even mean?
Serena's eyes met his. "This being isn't like the others. It doesn't destroy. It doesn't conquer. It simply… watches. And when it watches, everything ceases to exist."
Auron turned toward the horizon, his resolve hardening. He wasn't just fighting for survival anymore. He was fighting for existence itself. Fighting for the very memory of those who had come before, of the lives that had once lived freely.
He nodded.
"We go," Auron said firmly.
Leaf, standing beside them, turned to the group behind them. "And if it's not on our side?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Pikachu let out a loud, electric growl.
Auron's eyes blazed with determination. "Then we end everything."
---
The Black Horizon loomed in the distance—a line between two worlds, where light and darkness collided, bleeding into each other. A storm wasn't coming—it was already here.
The horizon shimmered with the ghostly afterimages of things long forgotten, as if the very fabric of reality itself was being shredded, piece by piece.
Auron Ketchum, the son of fire and steel, stood before it, unflinching.
And as the world trembled, he knew that this time, the stakes were higher than ever before. No longer was he Ash Ketchum's son. No longer was he Cynthia's heir.
Now, Auron was his own man.
And this time, he would decide the fate of everything.
---