[attr="class","skullimg"]

[attr="class","skulltitle"]導通抵抗

[attr="class","skullbody"]They stood like lights in the darkness in defiance of their fate, and yet Isaac could only watch.[break][break]

He wanted so badly to rise up and fight by their side, but every move he made was agony. If it wasn't his stomach wound screaming to life, it was his frostbitten skin being rubbed raw by tides of black crystal. He wanted to call out to them, but the roar of the Hurricane swallowed up any sound he could bring himself to make. Even seeing was harder than it should have been, the battlefield reduced to gouts of pink flame slicing through the miasma.[break][break]

In spite of that, Isaac knew exactly what he saw.[break][break]

He saw Hearth tossed aside like a leaf in the wind, Eurydice's empowered charge almost sending Hearth hurtling into the rim of the Hurricane. He dug his claws into the ground for a last minute save, eyes now glowing with as much intensity as his flame.[break][break]

He saw a towering save shoot through the darkness, threatening to swallow up the entire battlefield. It crashed mere inches away from Isaac, so loud he nearly mistook it for a gunshot. As it threatened to swallow Hearth whole, he saw the souls of the lost clustering before him, sheltering him with what little remained of their vestiges.[break][break]

He saw their souls flicker, fade, and then light themselves ablaze once more, for as long as Hearth drew breath he refused to let the Infernal Parade end.[break][break]

He saw Buffaloman, tearing through the miasma in a headlong rush towards whatever shadows he could find. He was always so straightforward and headstrong, whether in his triumphs in the Mauville Cup or in his lessons for Asher Baran. It didn't surprise Isaac in the slightest to see him go out with a fight, even as the bell had already rang.[break][break]

He saw Pandora, slicing indecipherable, winding paths through the darkness. She was always a dark horse, an unproven element of Isaac's team who ended up being the surprise MVP of his hardest gym trial. Moreso than anything else that night, Isaac regretted not having the chance to know her better. Now, he never would.[break][break]

He saw Sanford, twisting through the aether to run interference for the other lost souls. He'd never been the type of Pokemon to prioritize himself. Even when he and Isaac clashed, as they had often, it was so he could best serve the situation they were in. Not even death could stop him from trying to be of service to others.[break][break]

He saw them all, a whirlwind of hallowed fire, and he knew he'd have traded his life in a heartbeat so they could keep theirs.[break][break]

He saw feather after feather fall from the heavens, slicing into Hearth's body like a rain of arrows, and realized that perhaps his earlier thought was wrong. It was never Hearth's life that the Infernal Parade was tied to. The deathly chill of Lugia's gale left him near immobile. He looked up towards Bran with each slice through his body, but he seemed incapable of responding. What Isaac thought had been Hearth was little more than a funeral pyre.[break][break]

He saw Pridewen confirm his suspicions, that last Night Slash lancing right through Hearth. His body crumbled into white ash, slowly breaking away as it was sucked into the winds of Lugia's hurricane. Out from the ashes, a final soul rose to lead his Infernal Parade to its final rest.[break][break]

He saw the little Cyndaquil he'd hatched from the egg, the baby of the bunch even after so many other Pokemon had been caught. He still remembered so fondly that first contest performance with each other, a ribbon he'd stolen with his awkward cuteness. He, moreso than any of his team, should have been spared such a horrid fate.[break][break]

He saw as they soared, higher and higher, the four souls of Isaac's fallen intertwined with one another. Even as the Hurricane warped into a Shadow Storm, they refused to waver, spiraling counter to its winds as they sailed up the eye of the storm. Isaac eatched, transfixed, wondering if they dared strike at Lugia itself.[break][break]

He saw as they were denied their chance, dissolving into flickering embers far before they could reach. Had they lacked the energy for a final attack? Or did Hearth simply want to look the fallen god dead in the eye before passing on? Whichever rhe answer may be, Isaac took heart knowing that at least the lost souls could find peace.[break][break]

He saw, in their fading light, two specks disappear over the horizon, and knew if he died here he'd at least made it worth it.[break][break]

"We really thought we were gonna pull it off, huh, buddy?" It was ironic. Where the battle had started would be right where it ended. Isaac lay here, dying and impaled, mere inches from where Echo shared his fate. " 'Least we can say it wasn't all for nothing. That's something."[break][break]

Darkness gnawed at the corners of his vision. The chill that spread through his body had faded, only numbness taking its place. Was it because of the Shadow Storm? Or was it because he was dying? He tried to wiggle his fingers, but he couldn't even tell if he was doing so anymore. Only pain, increasingly distant and infrequent, reminded him that he hadn't already passed.[break][break]

He found himself reaching for where Echo fell, guided by the sensation of empathetic warmth that still lingered around his body. Echo had been a gift from the very man he had to fight to even get this far. Eccentric as he may be, he was also one of the most reliable Pokemon Isaac had ever known. Few Pokemon had ever been the helping hand and supporting shoulder Echo had been, guiding Isaac through his hardest trials and deepest traumas.[break][break]

Perhaps, even in these last moments, he sought some final shred of Echo's comfort.

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[attr="class","skullimg"]

[attr="class","skulltitle"]導通抵抗

[attr="class","skullbody"]For a brief, horrifying moment, Isaac's screams rang louder than the storm that enveloped him.[break][break]

Cil's heavy boot splintered through bone in a way it wasn't meant to break. Every neuron in his body erupted in pain, only for those in his shattered arm to go concerningly numb. The sharp, black crystals Cil ground into his wounds only added insult to injury and injury to insult. Little red rivers of blood drew down from where Isaac had been ground raw.[break][break]

His screams ended as suddenly as they'd began. Isaac knew nobody who cared was listening.[break][break]

"Used to look up to you, man." His voice was muffled by permafrost ground and choked by the screams and tears he could barely hold back. It was tiny and pitiful in the face of the raging storm. In spite of this, of all of this, his voice rang out as clearly as the memories that ran through his head.[break][break]

The day they met, in an office whose Pressure was dwarfed by the onslaught Isaac felt now. This had always been how he'd expected things to go between him and Cil, and yet against all odds he'd managed to impress him. The mission they faced together in the aftermath only confirmed, both to Cil and to Isaac, that the other stood out.[break][break]

The day Dahlia Goode came to Sootopolis, blasting League propaganda musicians from boats full of food like their songs meant something. As Cil's chosen vanguard, Isaac dutifully searched the ships, the only trap he could find the open hand Dahlia offered. Cil swallowed his pride and accepted the goods, and in that moment Isaac knew the heart that beat beneath the nightmare.[break][break]

The day Walsh decided the apocalypse was not to be fought, but to be exploited. Cil had confided his doubts to Isaac, a possibility unfathomable nowadays. Back then, Isaac thought Cil could truly bring a better Rocket. Was it propaganda he'd fallen for, hook, line, and sinker? Or did he and Cil have vastly definitions of better?[break][break]

The day Team Rocket took the Seal Stone. He and Cil fought side by side, and for the first time Isaac got a glimpse of the storm of violence that the man could become. He saw it in the eyes of his loved ones, reflections of the shadow that had taken Cil in mind, body, and soul. He knew at this rate they'd become just like him or die trying.[break][break]

The day Isaac visited the menagerie. It was a paradox. Cil cared for Shadows more than anyone else in the world, and yet lacked a single qualm with putting them through torture to shape them in his image. How could a man's love be expressed through such twisted depths of cruelty? What did it mean for their increasingly fragile bond?[break][break]

The day that bond didn't just break but shattered. In a last act of hateful disappointed and twisted mentorly love, Cil offered Isaac both punishment and salvation. All he had to do was kill a man that was already dead. They said killing became easier after you'd already done it once. Did Cil realize there and then that, for Isaac, it would never get easier?[break][break]

The day when twenty years passed and they reigned in Galar as kings. Just as Isaac was prepared to give up on Cil, deem him irredeemable, he'd found everything he was missing in a foreign dream. Power. Freedom. Happiness. Cil could have all of these and more, and yet in Rocket's long shadow he could only surrender. Even for those who claimed to share in its might, Rocket was the greatest enemy of Rocket.[break][break]

Today, the day of Isaac's death. It wasn't some grand betrayal in the heart of a warzone. It wasn't a leak of secrets to League officials. It wasn't even a refusal of orders. Isaac had slapped a toy out of an admin's hands and argued it had human dignity. That was enough for Cil to hunt him down like a rabid dog and subject him to endless horrors.[break][break]

Isaac rolled over, his now-useless arm flopping beside him. Tears stained his eyes. Blood stained his face. He looked up, half at the fading stars and half at the man who was about to end his life. Against all odds, he was smiling.[break][break]

"Now I pity you."[break][break]

It wasn't even an insult. Not with the genuine sorrow shining in his eye, not towards the team he'd lost or the life he'd thrown aside but toward the man who ended it all. His voice, frail as it was, lacked any shred of malice or sarcasm. Instead, he spoke openly and freely, for he knew this may well be his last chance to do so.

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[attr="class","skullimg"]

[attr="class","skulltitle"]導通抵抗

[attr="class","skullbody"]In the click of a trigger, Isaac was gone.

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[attr="class","skullimg"]

[attr="class","skulltitle"]導通抵抗

[attr="class","skullbody"]It didn't matter how long Isaac spent with his eyes squeezed shut. The ringing never left his head. For a second, he wondered if this was death's true form; no afterlife, no comforting blackness, just a hard stop at those final moments of consciousness. Would this ringing haunt him until the end of his days? Would he always be left choking through a shattered windpipe? Would he always feel the gentlest kiss of burning metal on his forehead?[break][break]

He dared not open his eyes and find out.[break][break]

For the longest time, Isaac was content to just lie down and process. The temptation to see his fate was great. The temptation to hide from it was greater. Perhaps he could get away with pretending that he'd wake up and see another day. It wasn't like that delusion could hurt him. After all, surely he was dead.[break][break]

No, no. It was far easier to act like this was just some long, dreamless sleep. It was refreshing, in a sense. He wasn't haunted by the usual gallery of nightmares and traumas that lurked around the corner of consciousness. In their stead, it was just Isaac, a pain he rapidly grew numb towards, a dancing taco, and the calling of the void.[break][break]

Wait.[break][break]

"Echo?" The broken, frail remnants of Isaac's voice pieced themselves together at the familiar symbol. Long ago, in more innocent times, it had been the goofball Ralts' callsign of sorts. It was so characteristically Echo, and so inappropriate for almost any situation, that if the thought popped into Isaac's mind his Telepathy was the only reasonable explanation.[break][break]

It began to occur to Isaac that there were only three lights in the Infernal Parade. A mix of relief and desperation welled up in his gut as he pushed himself off of the ground, ignoring the pain shooting through his body. "I knew you'd make it, buddy! If anyone could, its you! Now, c'mon, lets get you outta here. You gotta be hurt real-"[break][break]

"Bad."[break][break]

Isaac's hope, freshly reignited, was snuffed out just as quickly. There was no Ralts standing before him. Instead, there was only the gleaming silhouette of a Gardevoir. The only break in the white light was a blood red hole, the exact size and shape of the one Eurydice had ounched through him. The light of evolution tried to fill it in, time and time again, but it could never stick.[break][break]

In that moment, Isaac understood. Echo hadn't evolved to save itself. He'd evolved to give Isaac one final chance. Rather than standing tall and proud, he was visibly strained. Was his Pokerus, fighting against death itself, hurting him more by the moment? How much pain had he endured just to save Isaac's life?[break][break]

"No." Isaac's voice, too, was strained. Saying even one word at a time was agony on his crushed windpipe. Any movement sent sharp pain rushing through his gut. Despite that, he staggered towards Echo, reaching out with the arm that he could still move. He'd lost so many already. He'd endured so much already. He couldn't handle this, too.[break][break]

He stumbled, and Echo was there. The Gardevoir held him close, his touch warm, comforting, but ultimately ephemeral. Isaac could already feel the form Echo could barely maintain breaking away into little motes of light. He stared up towards them, helplessly watching as his dear Pokemon began to fade away bit by heartrending bit.[break][break]

Once more, Isaac could see their signal. However, that wasn't all. Far in the back of his mind, he could hear a voice. Pokemon couldn't speak. Not even psychics, not even telepaths. Despite this, Isaac could distinctly hear a voice. Rather, he could hear the memory of a voice; several voices, in fact.[break][break]

Echo could never say it himself, but he could use the last of his strength make Isaac remember that he was loved.[break][break]

In one last flash of light, Echo was gone. All that was left was the corpse of a Ralts tucked into Isaac's arm. Despite the grievous impalement wound, a peaceful smile spread across its face.[break][break]

"Echo . . ." It all made sense now. Just before the end, Echo had used the last of their strength to teleport them to safe ground. Petalburg Forest may have been ravaged by arsonists and delinquents, but compared to Cil's wrath it was a mercy.[break][break]

It may have been the only mercy he'd be afforded from now on. When Cil realized he'd cheated death one last time, he'd be furious. Rocket's long shadow stretched across the region, and he'd personally see to it that Isaac was smothered by it. Would anywhere be safe? Had all of his efforts simply earned him a long, painful death?[break][break]

He didn't have time to think. His body screamed in agony from wounds great and small. His uniform, rubbed a pale grey from the Shadow Sandstorm and frostbite, was cold and wet around him. He could barely bring himself to breathe. Despite all of that, Isaac knew if he stopped moving for a second they would catch him. He knew if they caught him, they'd make him wish for the mercy of a true death.[break][break]

Isaac took his first shaky footstep towards a freedom that had been written in blood.

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