Chapter 23: imbalance

  Aspen pressed his lips tightly, unable to utter a single word. After everything that had happened in the tower, his throat was dry, and his body felt heavier than ever. The ghost, on the other hand, watched him with a mocking grin, as if relishing his inability to defend himself verbally.

  —What’s the matter? Has the boy run out of words?— Gengar sneered, its voice unexpectedly deep and clear, almost human but laced with a sinister echo. —I’m not surprised. Humans always have so much to say… until they come across something beyond their comprehension.

  Aspen managed to swallow, his head spinning from exhaustion. He wanted to hide the newly captured Gastly, and above all, protect Dozy, whom he had immediately returned to his Poké Ball to prevent further suffering. The new Poké Ball was tucked inside his torn clothes, buried in his backpack. However, keeping his gaze locked on Gengar was a colossal effort. Even so, he forced himself to do it—a mere shift of his eyes could be interpreted as fear, and he refused to appear weaker than necessary.

  Gengar tilted its head to one side, maintaining that malicious grin. The air around it grew colder, a spiritual poison materializing around its silhouette. When it spoke again, its tone carried both amusement and irritation:

  —The greed of your kind never ends. You’ve proven that by capturing my… eerie little descendant.

  Its gaze fell upon the Poké Ball Aspen was clutching, noticing his desperate attempt to conceal it.

  —Oh, you don’t even have the courage to speak to me directly. Or maybe… you’re just so exhausted that you can’t even open your mouth.

  Aspen gritted his teeth; he barely had the strength for another fight.

  Gengar, uninterested in waiting for a response, continued:

  —You don’t seem to be from the lineage of that old witch who stole my previous offspring, nor from her allies. But you reek of the same venomous manipulation. It’s strange… centuries ago, poison was rare, appearing naturally only in certain Pokémon. But you humans… somehow, you multiplied it.

  There was a coldness in its voice, not quite anger, but something close.

  —You infested the world with creatures that never existed before—like that Grimer of yours, which looks slightly different from what once roamed Kanto. Even those Zubat… bred to have unusual abilities, forced to reproduce to “enhance” their so-called innate talents.

  The words struck deep.

  Aspen, exhausted, couldn’t argue that he had nothing to do with the actions of past generations—he was just a kid, tangled in conflicts far beyond him.

  But Gengar didn’t give him time to process anything.

  —For most Legendary and Mythical Pokémon, everything was “fine” for a long time. It amused them to watch their human creations play at being gods—crafting machines, tools, experiments.

  Gengar’s grin widened, but its tone dropped to something far more sinister.

  —But at some point… your race crossed a line.

  A glint of something ancient and resentful flickered in its eyes.

  —You dared to tamper with something that transcends every natural law. You created new life, usurped the most sacred laws of existence… And the Creator, who once loved you, tolerated it.

  Aspen’s breath caught in his throat.

  —Until, because of your species’ audacity… the balance was shattered.

  The ghost’s voice sank to an icy murmur, curling around Aspen’s spine like a serpent of dread.

  His grandmother had once told him stories about past tensions with higher beings, but he had never truly understood them.

  Gengar, however, didn’t seem to care whether he grasped the meaning or not.

  It muttered with bitter amusement:

  —If it were up to me, I would break the seal.

  Aspen’s breath hitched as Gengar pointed to its own shadow, where dark symbols twisted and danced unnaturally.

  —I’d set the Primordial free—let it wipe out your entire species in one fell swoop.

  Aspen’s blood ran cold.

  —Unfortunately, it would also obliterate half of all Pokémon… and I’m not too fond of universal annihilation.

  A shiver raked down Aspen’s spine.

  His tongue finally unstuck, enough to whisper, —D-do you… hate humans?

  Gengar laughed. Not a kind laugh, but one that made the candle flames flicker wildly, as if the walls themselves recoiled.

  —Hate? Humans are neither good nor evil. They’re simply… a species that, every time they threaten this world, must be erased like a plague.

  Aspen felt an unbearable pressure on his chest.

  —they are useful at times. create wonderful and dangerous things alike. But they never stop—they always want more. And history proves it: they ambition borders on madness.

  A cold sweat trickled down Aspen’s temple.

  The serpentine shadow from his past hallucination surfaced violently in his mind, sending a tremor through his limbs.

  Gengar noticed. And it laughed again, this time with clear amusement.

  —Oh… so you caught a glimpse of Giratina and didn’t lose your mind?

  The sheer casualness with which it said it made Aspen’s stomach drop.

  —That was… Giratina?— he stammered, drowning in confusion.

  —Indeed. One of the so-called Primordials.

  Gengar made a vague gesture with its clawed hand.

  —It’s up to you whether or not to learn its history. But I assure you… you are not ready to understand its realm.

  Aspen’s fingers twitched.

  —But I’m getting distracted… The point is, I’m still waiting for your excuse.

  The Gengar’s gaze darkened.

  —Why should I allow you to take my offspring? I could rip that ball from your hands, shatter it, and end your insignificant life if I wished.

  Aspen’s heart nearly stopped.

  He struggled to find words, but Gengar didn’t even give him the chance.

  A spectral claw shot forward, yanking the Poké Ball from Aspen’s grasp and forcing it open.

  Gastly materialized in a swirl of vapor, its form flickering with exhaustion.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  It looked furious—but in the presence of Gengar, its defiance wavered, as if recognizing its ancestor or leader.

  —B-but…!— Aspen tried to protest, but his voice barely came out.

  Gengar’s dominance was absolute.

  —The strongest Pokémon have families, legacies—descendants.

  The elder ghost reached out and brushed Gastly’s mist, almost thoughtfully.

  —When one of us chooses to follow a human, it’s because there is a bond, an understanding… or because the trainer is strong enough to defeat them.

  Gengar’s gaze bore into Aspen.

  —You, however, have shown nothing—other than the fact that you’re alive by sheer luck.

  Aspen clenched his fists.

  His frustration boiled over.

  His breathing turned ragged.

  With a monumental effort, he raised his injured arm, willing his body to move.

  And he summoned his venomous crystal claw—the same technique he had used against Niko.

  A searing pain burned through his shoulder and mind.

  But he didn’t stop.

  The sharp white toxin crystallized at his fingertip.

  He held it up, panting, shaking, but defiant.

  —M-maybe… it’s just a small trick— Aspen rasped. —But I’m not a nobody. And I won’t let go of Gastly… or back down.

  Gengar let out an amused snort.

  —How cute. That crystal might… tickle.

  It watched Aspen’s shaking body, the exhaustion weighing him down like chains.

  —You’re tearing yourself apart just to prove a point.

  The ghost’s grin widened.

  —But tell me… do you really think desperation alone can forge a bond?

  Aspen clenched his jaw. The burning pain of the crystallized venom spread through his arm, but his defiance refused to wane.

  Gengar’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it widened in amusement.

  —What would you know?— Aspen spat, his voice raw.

  The ghost chuckled, clearly entertained.

  —What would I know?

  Aspen’s frustration surged.

  —I never asked to be thrown into clan disputes, into battles where I had to fight to the death! I’ve had to defend myself from Pokémon and assassins just to stay alive!

  His voice cracked.

  —Every step I take, I’m forced into combat! I won’t just stand by while others think they can take my Pokémon from me whenever they feel like it!

  His breath was ragged, his limbs trembling.

  Gengar tilted its head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

  Then, slowly, it began to applaud—a slow, sarcastic clap that echoed through the dim corridor.

  —Not bad. At least you have some guts.

  Aspen swallowed, still panting.

  Gengar’s tone shifted, turning eerily serious.

  —But let me warn you, boy.

  The air around them darkened, the weight of something ancient pressing down on Aspen’s chest.

  —Your world… doesn’t grant peace. Not even in death.

  Aspen stiffened.

  —No matter what you do, there will always be another force wanting to use you—or tear you apart.

  Gengar leaned in slightly, its eyes burning like embers.

  —Are you ready for that endless game?

  The words cut through him.

  Because Aspen knew.

  If he wanted to keep Gastly—if he wanted to keep any of his Pokémon—he had to grow stronger. Stronger than his comfort zone allowed.

  He had to change.

  Aspen remained silent, but the weight in his expression was enough of an answer.

  Gengar smirked.

  —Perhaps you’re still weak…

  It tilted its head.

  —But poison is, after all, the weapon of the weak—the tool for those who seek to twist the law of the strong.

  Aspen’s pulse quickened.

  —Haven’t you ever seen a Weedle stop a Pidgey?

  Aspen blinked.

  Gengar’s grin widened.

  —That is poison.

  —The power to survive—

  —When all the odds are against you.

  Aspen, his heart hammering, finally found his voice.

  —I… I am weak, yeah.

  His fingers curled.

  —But I won’t stop. Why would I?

  He inhaled shakily.

  —I’ll train him. I’ll train all of them.

  His grip tightened around the Poké Ball.

  —And one day… I’ll be dangerous enough for everyone to leave me alone.

  Silence.

  Then, Gengar laughed—a deep, guttural chuckle that sent a chill down Aspen’s spine.

  A spark of interest flickered in its crimson eyes.

  —Heh… we’ll see if you can prove that.

  With a fluid motion, Gengar extended a claw and let its shadow stretch toward Gastly.

  The barely-conscious ghost flickered in the air.

  Then, with a soft pulse, it was forced back into the Poké Ball.

  Aspen let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  It was… over.

  Gastly was his now.

  Gengar regarded him one last time, something akin to paternal indifference in its gaze.

  —Take care of him.

  Aspen looked up, still on edge.

  Gengar’s voice was low but firm.

  —He’s a creepy lunatic—that’s why he scares so many. But he has potential.

  The elder ghost smirked.

  —Give him a name. Make him respect you. Otherwise… he’ll devour you.

  Aspen hesitated for only a moment.

  Then, softly, he murmured:

  —Creepy… I like that name.

  The words felt right.

  The moment they left his lips, something in the Poké Ball shifted—as if Gastly, in some small way, had acknowledged it.

  Aspen still felt like he could collapse at any moment. His body ached, his vision swayed, and his mind was spinning with everything that had just happened.

  But… he had won.

  Somehow, against all odds—

  He had survived.

  Aspen opened his mouth to say something more, but before he could, the air around him trembled.

  Gengar’s head snapped up, as if sensing something distant.

  And then, with a swift, elegant motion, its entire body melted into the darkness.

  Aspen was left alone.

  His legs wobbled.

  His vision blurred.

  And then—

  A white fog swallowed his surroundings.

  He felt the world slip away beneath his feet.

  His mind collapsed under exhaustion.

  And the next thing he knew—

  He was standing in front of a Pokémon Center.

  His breath hitched.

  Morning light—or maybe it was evening—cast neon glows from a flickering sign above the entrance.

  Aspen took two shaky steps forward.

  Then—his knees buckled.

  A sharp pain tore through his side, making him gasp.

  —H-help…— he managed, his voice strangled.

  It was barely above a whisper.

  But it was enough.

  A moment later, the doors burst open.

  Two nurses rushed out, their pink uniforms a blur of motion.

  —Quick! Get a stretcher!

  —Stay with us, kid! Can you hear me?!

  Aspen barely registered their words.

  He barely registered anything.

  His consciousness was fading fast.

  Somewhere in his pocket, the Poké Balls containing Dozy and Creepy bumped against his leg.

  His lips parted in a breathless sigh.

  At least… he had made it out alive.

  But even as darkness claimed him, Gengar’s words echoed in his mind.

  “Peace does not exist… not even in death.”