Pokemon : Negative Emotion System

As a former quasi-Elite Trainer—and a man who once raised a Tyranitar from a sassy little Larvitar that used to chew on electric wires—Giovanni thought he knew everything there was to know about the species.

He had trained it, battled with it, even sobbed next to it after a dramatic league loss involving a critical-hit Ice Beam. So when he saw David's Tyranitar conjuring up a biblical-level sandstorm like some kind of weather deity… it messed with his head.

He stared at the churning sky, the suspended grains of sand floating like they were obeying Tyranitar's will alone. The whole field had been transformed into a wasteland opera—drenched in golden wind and roaring defiance.

That thing used to be so frail, Giovanni thought. Its energy core had been pierced. It was on the verge of death. And now... this?

That Tyranitar wasn't just strong—it was alive. Defiant. Towering.

And worst of all?

Evolving.

If Tyranitar broke into the Champion tier, then it was over.

People think the difference between quasi-Elite and Champion is a baby step. One word apart. A few hundred experience points. But in reality? That difference was a canyon full of angry Garchomps. It meant crossing a threshold very few ever did.

Giovanni's smugness cracked.

For the first time in this battle, his fingers twitched at his sides. A seriousness crept across his gaunt features.

"…Dusknoir! Encore Brick Break!"

His voice cut like a knife through the sandstorm.

The sky above responded. A ghostly palm—a monstrous thing as big as a Snorlax's ego—formed in the sand-filled air. With a slow, deliberate motion, it slashed downward, parting the sandstorm itself like Moses parting the sea. The sheer pressure of the move tore the air apart.

David flinched.

That wasn't just an attack—that was an ultimatum.

"Okay," David muttered, lips dry, "so he was holding back."

This wasn't just Giovanni turning up the heat—this was him boiling the ocean.

David's stomach twisted, but he kept his cool. Barely.

He glanced down at the small Pokémon curled against his chest.

Ralts looked up at him with innocent, trusting eyes.

David leaned closer and whispered, "Ralts… when I give you the signal, I need you to teleport me to him."

Ralts blinked. "Lalu?"

David nodded and tilted his chin toward the ghostly figure in the storm.

Ralts followed his gaze, spotted Giovanni, and then noticed the massive wrench glinting half-buried near the trees.

It understood instantly.

Its eyes glimmered with mischief.

The wind howled louder, blasting across the battlefield like a warning. David squinted through the storm. Visibility was abysmal—maybe ten meters at best. Through the thick golden veil, he could barely make out Tyranitar and Dusknoir, locked in a titanic clash of fists, shadows, and roars.

He swallowed.

Giovanni probably had more Pokémon waiting in the wings. Hidden in shadows, maybe in his own shadow, like Dusknoir.

David's palms sweated.

If he made the wrong move now, he wouldn't just lose a battle—he'd be dinner. Ghost-type chow. Extra crispy.

But…

If he didn't take the shot, Tyranitar wouldn't last.

It was already burned. Its one recovery move—Rest—had been Disabled. Every passing second weakened it further. Giovanni's strategy was airtight. Ruthless.

David clenched the wrench tighter.

He couldn't let it end here.

Not when Tom, his stubborn yet loyal friend, was still out there in the chaos. Not when Luna, the headstrong Trainer who had believed in him, was depending on him.

Not when Uncle Grant, the gruff commander who secretly packed baked goods for everyone, had risked his neck to hold the line.

Not when he had the one move left that no one expected.

His heart beat heavy in his chest. He looked down at the familiar weight perched on his shoulder.

"…Pikachu," David said softly. "It's time."

Pikachu turned, its little eyes wide with concern.

"If I don't make it back… I need you to take care of Ralts. And Dreepy."

David gently set Pikachu down and handed it a Poké Ball containing his sleepy ghost dragon.

"Pika…?" Pikachu looked heartbroken.

But then—its tiny paw reached into David's jacket.

It pulled out a bank card.

David: "…"

Pikachu smiled sheepishly.

[+50 Negative Emotion from David…]

[+60…]

[+70…]

"You little gremlin," David muttered, narrowing his eyes. "You weren't sad—I thought you were gonna cry. You just wanted my debit card?!"

Pikachu gave him an exaggerated wink, stuck its tongue out, and then, to smooth things over, placed its beloved Detective Pikachu cap on David's head with reverence.

Then it leaned in and pressed a tiny kiss to David's cheek.

"Pika-pi."

Ralts stepped forward too, eyes wide and glittering. It reached up and kissed David's cheek gently, mimicking Pikachu.

"Lalu! Lalu!"

Then, it proudly whipped out a book David had given it weeks ago: 'Troll Tactics: Self-Cultivation for Strategic Menaces.'

It patted its chest and gave a dramatic thumbs-up. Ralts was ready to be annoying.

Dreepy, meanwhile, had only just woken up.

He blinked at David, eyes big, then stared at the sandstorm. Then back at David. Then the wrench.

Then just wobbled in confusion like a sleep-deprived toddler.

David burst into laughter.

Even in the middle of a battlefield, flames in the sky and death on the breeze, he laughed.

"…You guys are the best."

He ruffled Pikachu's ears, handed Ralts the wrench with reverence, and then steeled himself.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let's end this."

Ralts nodded, eyes glowing faintly with psychic energy.

Sandstorm still raged around them. In the distance, Tyranitar roared—a primal, desperate sound.

David closed his eyes.

He had one shot.

****

David stood up with a grin, eyes narrowed toward the swirling sandstorm in the distance.

"Alright... time to end this circus," he muttered.

Then his expression abruptly froze.

He could feel it—Tyranitar's strength was running low, the air crackling with tension. And that creepy wannabe villain Giovanni? He was up to something. David's eyes sharpened.

"Ralts!" he barked, voice suddenly sharp and commanding, "Teleport me. Now!"

Ralts, who had been napping in David's hoodie pocket like a spoiled cat, jolted upright with wide eyes. Its little red horn began to shimmer with a flickering violet glow. Waves of intense Psychic energy rippled through the air like a shockwave, knocking up tufts of grass and startling a passing Diglett.

Ralts honed in on Giovanni's location like a GPS from hell.

Then—

"Whoosh!"

In the blink of an eye, David vanished in a swirl of sparkling psychic light.

Meanwhile, Outside the Mystery Zone Barrier

On the other side of the dimension, Aron was pacing like a stressed-out dad outside a delivery room. He was watching the researchers fiddle with the cracked space array like it was a broken IKEA shelf.

"Tyranitar's still inside…" he muttered, chewing the inside of his cheek. Something was wrong. His gut told him this entire situation reeked of a trap—and not the kind of fun puzzle-trap, but the full-on 'villain monologue and death ray' kind.

Just then, a technician shouted, "We've stabilized the space formation! The barrier's up!"

A shimmering, unstable blue hexagram glowed on the ground like something out of a sci-fi horror movie.

"Perfect. I'm going in!" Aron shouted, and without hesitation, leapt into the portal like a man dive-bombing into destiny.

"Wait! Aron, sir! The formation isn't stable ye—"

ZAP!

Too late.

Inside the Mystery Zone

David reappeared behind Giovanni in a literal flash. He didn't hesitate. The wrench he'd been hiding in his hoodie (a perfectly logical thing for a high schooler to carry, apparently) was already swinging through the air like a baseball bat of justice.

But just as it was about to connect with Giovanni's smug bald head—

"Squelch."

A dark, creepy tendril slithered up from Giovanni's shadow and wrapped around David's wrist mid-swing.

David's heart dropped into his shoes.

Oh. Great.

Emerging slowly from Giovanni's shadow was the stuff of nightmares: Banette. A ghostly puppet with a zipper mouth, glowing violet eyes full of malice, and a face that said, "I eat souls for breakfast."

Banette's Grudge immobilized David completely. He was frozen like a bug under a glass.

Giovanni turned around lazily, hands in his lab coat pockets, and raised a very unimpressed eyebrow.

"Seriously?" he asked, voice dry as dust. "What now?"

David, completely busted and still holding the wrench mid-swing, blinked innocently. "Uh… there was a mosquito. On your head. I was going to pat it."

Giovanni stared at him, mouth twitching.

"…With a wrench?"

[+2000 Negative Emotion Value from Giovanni...]

[+3000 Negative Emotion Value from Giovanni…]

[+4000 Negative Emotion Value from Giovanni…]

David gave up trying to justify it. He shrugged like a man who'd accepted death.

"Well, if you're gonna take me out, can you at least let me finish one last sandwich? I have a really good tuna melt in my bag."

Banette tightened its grip.

Giovanni sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples like he was dealing with a particularly annoying toddler. Then his expression darkened. His voice dropped to a calm, eerie tone.

"Do you know those Pokémon?" he said, pointing toward the garrison camp where the rampaging ultra-ancient Pokémon were wreaking havoc.

David squinted. "The big ones with the anger issues?"

Giovanni nodded.

"They used to be mine."

David's heart skipped a beat. He felt a chill crawl up his spine. He stared at Giovanni as if seeing him for the first time.

"You're kidding."

Giovanni didn't blink. "Nope."

David's mouth went dry. The realization slammed into him like a Gyarados belly-flop.

That's how Giovanni had such terrifying control over the ancient Pokémon. They weren't just lab rats—they were his original team.

The thought hit harder than any Brick Break. This lunatic had experimented on his own partners—his original Pokémon—and turned them into violent ticking time bombs.

David looked around at the battlefield: the burning trees, the soldiers struggling to hold their lines, Tyranitar still fighting despite the burn on her side and her depleted stamina.

And here was Giovanni, calm as ever, chatting like they were having tea.

"You're twisted," David whispered. "Absolutely twisted."

Giovanni didn't deny it. In fact, he smiled. "They volunteered. They were part of my vision. My masterpiece. You'll understand one day, if you live long enough."

David was about to respond with a clever insult involving lab coats and therapy bills, but Banette's tendril gave his arm a painful squeeze.

"Ow, okay, okay! Geez, no need to break my wrist—do you have dental insurance for your ghost?"

David dangled helplessly mid-air, gripped by a sinister, invisible force as Giovanni stood with his back turned, gazing dramatically at the swirling sandstorm. It looked like he was reliving a flashback or auditioning for a soap opera.

"My name… is Giovanni," he said with a deep, theatrical pause, as if waiting for a gasp or applause. "Perhaps you've heard my story?"

David blinked, still immobilized by Banette's ghostly grasp, and replied with a straight face, "Uh… no?"

Giovanni turned slightly, clearly not expecting that answer. His face—already skeletal and pale—somehow managed to look even more deadpan. You could almost hear the record scratch in the background.

"…What?"

"I mean, I've kinda been busy surviving," David said, hanging like a limp rag doll. "Didn't exactly have time to keep up with whatever's trending in the Trainer Weekly newsletter."

Giovanni's eyelid twitched.

[Acquired negative emotion value +2000 from Giovanni...]

[+3000...]

[+4000... and rising like a stock market crash.]

Giovanni coughed into his sleeve, trying to recover the remnants of his villainous mystique. "Ahem. Five years ago, in the Mystery Zone known as the Dragon Court, I discovered… something." His voice turned reverent. "A power from an ultra-ancient civilization. And I wasn't ready. But my Tyranitar…"

David slowly stopped struggling and listened. Despite the floating and involuntary yoga pose he was in, there was something real in Giovanni's tone. Not just mad-scientist real—he sounded… human?

David's expression turned more serious. Part of him actually wanted to hear this.

Giovanni's voice grew darker. "The power I found—it was pure. Primal. But corrupted. It didn't bend to us… it devoured." He raised a hand, and four of the monstrous, ultra-ancient Pokémon behind him let out low, threatening growls. "They're my creation. My children. My sins."

David swallowed. Hard.

So… this guy had once loved these Pokémon? Then experimented on them. Turned them into... this? The realization made David's skin crawl.

He'd suspected Giovanni was unhinged—he hadn't guessed 'mad bioengineer with abandonment issues' levels of unhinged.

"Actually…" David began, trying to speak, "About that power—there's a reason why—"

Giovanni cut him off, his eyes gleaming.

"But now," he said, holding up a black, glowing Pokémon egg with obsession burning in his voice, "I've finally created the perfect container."

David blinked at the egg. "Is that—"

"The offspring of two champion-class Tyranitars," Giovanni whispered like he was announcing the birth of a god. "My Tyranitar… your Tyranitar. And this—this Larvitar—is the future. The only Pokémon alive that can fully wield the power of an ultra-ancient civilization."

The egg pulsed with an eerie black light, its shell veined with jet-black streaks like obsidian lightning. From inside, a dim red glow flickered.

It was close to hatching.

David shivered. This wasn't just playing with fire. This was giving gasoline to a baby and handing it a match.

Far in the distance, Tyranitar howled through the sandstorm and charged at Dusknoir with renewed ferocity, clearly sensing the danger her child was in. But she was wounded, exhausted, her Rest move locked out by Disable.

David's stomach turned. Giovanni was truly insane. He was experimenting on an unborn Pokémon.

"You're mad," David said. "You're trying to unleash something that can't be controlled. That power—it's evil. Even the tiniest bit of it corrupts."

Giovanni didn't even blink. He just held the egg closer to his chest.

"I've studied it for years," he said, almost lovingly. "The ancient texts, the residual energies, the madness. I've danced with destruction and survived."

"Barely," David muttered, glancing at the guy's sunken cheeks and shadowy eye bags. "You look like you haven't slept since Johto was cool."

Giovanni smiled—a slow, hollow smile. "And now… the final piece. You, David."

David froze. "Me?"

"You're going to be the sacrifice," Giovanni said cheerfully, like he was announcing a bake sale. "When Aron arrives and sees Larvitar awaken and kill you—he'll understand the price of ignoring my research."

"Oh great, emotional trauma as your marketing strategy," David deadpanned. "Maybe throw in a free stress ball with every Pokémon egg, too."

Giovanni tilted his head. "You're very annoying, you know that?"

"I've been told," David said proudly.

The egg pulsed again, cracks forming across its surface like a spiderweb. A faint cry—high-pitched and unnatural—echoed from within. The air around them shimmered, almost humming with suppressed chaos.

Tyranitar screamed from the distance, desperately trying to break through the sandstorm toward her baby.

Banette's ghostly grip tightened around David's limbs.

And yet, all David could do was watch.

This thing was about to hatch. This Larvitar wasn't just going to be strong—it was going to be twisted. Infused with something that no Pokémon should ever touch. It wouldn't be a partner. It would be a weapon. A curse.

He looked at Giovanni—who now had that wide-eyed, cult leader grin. "You say madness. I say evolution."

"And I say therapy," David snapped. "Lots of therapy. Possibly with a frying pan."

Giovanni only chuckled darkly and leaned closer, his breath cold on David's ear.

"Let's see what Aron thinks… when your blood christens my masterpiece."

David winced. "Okay. One, ew. Two—wow, you are absolutely off the deep end. Have you considered writing gothic poetry instead?"

But even as he spoke, David felt the tension rising. The sandstorm was roaring louder. The egg was seconds from hatching.

He had to think fast.

Banette was still gripping him, the same way it had blocked his earlier wrench ambush. Tyranitar was too far, too hurt. And Aron—if he didn't arrive soon, he might walk into a waking nightmare.

David glanced at his Pokéball belt. Still out of reach. His Ralts had teleported him here, but now he was stuck.

Was this really how it ended?

****

David stared at the Pokémon egg in Giovanni's pale, skeletal hands as the system panel popped up in front of him like a warning notification from the universe itself.

[Species: Larvitar (Ground/Rock)]

Gender: ♂

Level: 0 (Egg Stage)

Ability: Guts (Attack greatly increases when afflicted by a status condition; burn does not lower Attack)

Nature: Adamant (Attack ↑, Special Attack ↓)

IVs: HP (31), Attack (31), Special Attack (31), Defense (31), Special Defense (31), Speed (31)

Moves: Ancient Power, Stomp, Outrage, Dragon Dance

Held Item: None

Potential: Champion Tier

Special Trait: ① Inherits uncontrollable ancient power. Handle with extreme caution.

David's eyes narrowed. "Champion-tier Larvitar, huh? With moves like Dragon Dance and Outrage right out the shell?" he muttered.

It was a monster.

Like his own Dreepy, this Larvitar had all the genetic blessings of a top-tier pseudo-legendary. The only difference? This one came with a ticking time bomb in the "Special Trait" box: unable to control itself due to ancient power.

In other words, one wrong sneeze, and this baby Tyranitar might Hyper Beam a mountain into next week.

And right then—

Crack!

A blinding flash erupted from Giovanni's hands. The egg split apart with a chorus of dreadful, echoing fractures. The hatching had begun.

A blinding white light exploded outward—intense, radiant, pure.

But something was wrong.

That radiant light was being eaten. Not dimmed, devoured—consumed by a formless, suffocating blackness that oozed out like spilled ink, swallowing every glow of innocence in its path.

David instinctively took a step back.

And then—

It appeared.

In the sky above the Mystery Zone, where no clouds had been before, an eye opened.

Not metaphorically.

An eye. Gigantic. Golden. Unblinking. Suspended in the heavens like some divine camera lens, watching history unfold.

An eye that didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just stared. Judging. Knowing. Ancient.

An eye that had seen worlds burn.

The breath froze in David's throat. Cold sweat beaded down his spine.

Next to him, Giovanni tilted his head up toward the blackened sky, face solemn. And in that same eerie moment, both he and David muttered under their breath, as if recalling a verse from long-buried nightmares.

"Two forces that destroy the world.

Black's darkness, blackened the sky.

Gold's eyes were disturbed.

A dispute that divides the world in two.

People are helpless.

The gate to another world opens in the sky!"

As if on cue, the atmosphere shifted.

The entrance to the Mystery Zone began to open.

Somewhere outside the churning sands and surging madness, Aron stepped through the unstable portal, emerging into the distorted realm.

His sharp gaze swept over the chaos—the blighted skies, the boiling air, the looming shadow of ancient power being born anew.

The doomsday-level energy practically slapped him across the face.

Aron didn't speak, but his expression darkened. This wasn't a "mission update" kind of moment. This was a "nuke the place or evacuate the planet" kind of moment.

Back in the heart of the sandstorm, David and Giovanni remained frozen—locked in mutual disbelief.

Each of them had just recited the exact same prophecy. Word for word. Like it was branded into their souls.

David's mind raced. That phrase—he remembered it clearly from the anime's unaired episode scripts. The ones that hinted at the rise of the ancient powers. The harbingers of world-ending chaos. The lost chapters.

But how the hell did Giovanni—this creepy, wrench-immune, half-deranged scientist—know it too?

On the other side, Giovanni's eyes narrowed sharply. That prophecy? He'd found it carved into the ruins deep within the Dragon Frontier Mystery Zone. A secret passed down through unreadable glyphs, deciphered after years of obsession and insomnia.

And now this high school kid was quoting it?

The two of them stood silently, staring at each other.

Neither moved. Neither spoke. The air between them was heavy with tension, dread, and something far worse:

Understanding.

Each knew now, with total certainty, that the other wasn't just bluffing, or guessing, or lucky.

They were both tangled in something ancient. Something real. Something unstoppable.

Something that had already begun.