Chapter 21: Staring at the Devil

  As Aspen turned around instinctively, he saw two red eyes, larger than the ones before, and suddenly, he felt as if he had been transported to another place, but at the same time, it felt different from simple teleportation. The place Aspen is transported to does not obey any laws of physics or common sense as he knows it. Or maybe he has not been physically transported at all, maybe it is all happening in his mind. But, at that moment, his consciousness cannot distinguish between the dreamlike and the real. It just happens: a leap into the void without coordinates, without sky or ground, without anything to anchor him to logic.

  An unearthly silence suffocates him, an unbearable density that opposes his being. There is no wind, no sound of life, no trace of stable light. Here, reality seems to be made of scraps of shadows and ashes, as if the world had been shattered and each fragment was floating aimlessly.

  Aspen finds himself suspended in the middle of this impossible landscape, its gray hues resembling compressed ash. He looks around in confusion, each breath a tremendous effort, almost as if the air were a thick liquid filling his lungs. His vision warps, distorting everything in sight.

  Something floats past him, perhaps a weightless, spinning fragment of architecture, a broken staircase, a crumbling tombstone… It’s hard to tell, as it seems to form and dissolve at the same time. He reaches out to touch it, but the distance stretches and contracts in the blink of an eye, making it impossible to determine how much he needs to move his arm. Or perhaps his arm is warping, too.

  Nothing remains still or stable here. Shapes slowly reconfigure themselves, as if the entire universe is boiling.

  The oppressive weight of this place is overwhelming. He is surrounded by an immense void, but it seems dense. There is no sense of up or down: a fragment of a floating wall floats above his head, screeching with a metallic grinding sound before fading away.

  Vertigo grips him.

  A deep nausea twists his stomach.

  A primal panic seeps into his bones.

  There is no ground beneath his feet, no wind to guide him.

  Everything is suspended in nothingness, like primordial chaos.

  Dark grey absorbs all light, with areas of deeper blackness where even shadows disappear.

  Every time Aspen blinks, the scene changes: a rock floats and turns to dust in the air; an object that looked like a skull dissolves into a misshapen mass.

  Logic. Gravity. Time.

  None of those concepts have any meaning here.

  A stabbing pain explodes in his skull. His brain struggles to find a point of reference, something fixed amid the chaos.

  He finds nothing

  Everything bends, everything breaks. The sheer impossibility of this happening hurts.

  It feels like a weight is crushing his head in a vice.

  The nausea returns in waves.

  Then-

  A shape looms in the distance.

  Aspen's heart races.

  A serpentine silhouette, colossal in size, glides through the gray abyss.

  Its shape lacks clear definition, but he can sense its enormity.

  It does not move with normal grace—rather, it has a stillness so alien that his mind interprets it as motion.

  With every shift, the entity distorts the space around it, breaking and reforming reality simply by existing.

  Aspen cannot describe it with human words.

  “Neck” and “head” are meaningless terms—everything about it is shifting, undulating, mutable.

  Only one thing remains constant:

  Two enormous, blood-red eyes pierce the void.

  Two burning orbs, radiating fury and ancient wisdom in equal measure.

  Aspen’s blood runs cold.

  In that moment, he understands—he is face to face with something infinitely greater than himself, something so ancient that its chronology predates the existence of regions and clans. A force that wouldn’t hesitate to crush him like an insect.

  He feels his inner voice shatter into a silent scream; the brink of a complete mental collapse brushes against him.

  Because those scarlet pupils pierce into him with such intensity that they wound him in the deepest part of his being.

  There are no words.

  No mercy.

  Only the wrath of a titan that does not recognize human life as something relevant.

  With a breath of terror, Aspen realizes his body is frozen.

  His back burns.

  His mind sparks and crackles.

  The chaos around him intensifies—some parts of the void spiral wildly, and he thinks he hears wails resonating inside his skull.

  Everything becomes confusing, disjointed.

  He tries to think of his grandmother.

  Of Dozy.

  Of Noizy.

  Of the tower.

  Of why he is even here.

  But all of it fractures, disintegrating like a house of cards caught in a storm.

  He fears his consciousness will break apart from gazing at the endless body of this creature.

  The idea that this could be a Pokémon doesn’t even cross his mind anymore.

  It feels more like a god of destruction—or an ancient devil.

  Then—at the very peak of horror—

  The seal hanging from his neck—the one his grandmother Julia had given him—comes to life.

  It emits a sudden glow that cuts through the gray-saturated vision, a blinding brilliance that splits the scene in a single blink.

  For the briefest second, the abyssal gaze of the creature falters, as if the light repels it, pushes it away from its orbit.

  Aspen feels a sharp pang in his chest—almost like the seal is draining his breath to fuel its protective power.

  Then—

  Everything turns into a sudden, searing light.

  Aspen screams in sheer agony.

  But that pain, as indescribable as it is—saves him.

  The beast fades.

  That towering form in the void writhes, contracting into mist and vanishing.

  Aspen’s mind experiences a terrible emptiness.

  It is like a curtain slamming shut without warning, crashing reality down all at once.

  A painful pulse hammers in his temples.

  His body collapses onto something solid.

  He is no longer floating in that chaotic dimension.

  He has returned to a physical state.

  He struggles to breathe.

  His vision is filled with dark spots.

  A deafening pulse spreads through his ribs.

  His head spins, and confusion ravages every cell in his body.

  Then—

  He realizes he is back in the tower.

  As if that experience had lasted only a second—

  A mere blink.

  And yet, it has nearly shattered him completely.

  He makes out a half-broken tiled floor, the dim flicker of candlelight, a lifeless corridor that, just moments ago, had been swallowed in Lavender’s darkness.

  He coughs violently, but his voice comes out strained, dry, strangled.

  He clutches his chest, feeling the faint glow of the seal—nearly drained.

  He understands.

  It was his lifeline, the only thing that pulled him back from the madness that would have consumed him after witnessing a being that should not exist.

  A violent tremor takes hold of his legs, and he kneels.

  His back aches as he leans against the wall, and only one thought lingers—

  There is no way to describe the place he was trapped in.

  Were those illusions, created by that force?

  Or had he actually stepped into another dimension?

  Perhaps he will never know.

  But the impression it left on him…

  He will never forget it.

  His breaths come in short, ragged gasps.

  He fights back the nausea clawing at his throat.

  Then—

  A viscous hand presses against his shoulder.

  Dozy.

  His Grimer stares at him with worried eyes.

  Above him, Noizy flutters anxiously, letting out a distressed screech.

  “Th… thank you…” he mutters, closing his eyes for a second.

  He can feel his mind barely recovering, struggling not to black out.

  The worst seems to be over.

  Then—

  A shiver runs down his spine.

  Those red eyes.

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  The ones that gazed at him without mercy.

  They flash back into his memory.

  And suddenly—

  Something manifests in the darkness of the corridor.

  A heavy silhouette begins to take shape.

  Terror seizes him.

  He fears—

  That the same abomination has returned.

  But as his vision focuses—

  He realizes.

  It is not the same creature.

  This form is different.

  Larger than any he has seen before.

  A Gengar.

  Not just any Gengar—

  A colossal one.

  Larger than any specimen Aspen has ever seen or imagined.

  Its skin is darker than the void itself.

  Its limbs loom with an imposing menace.

  Its very presence exhales a funeral aura—

  Far worse than his grandmother’s own Gengar.

  Aspen whimpers.

  His heart races once more.

  He is on the brink of mental collapse.

  But this time—

  The creature does not pull him into a world of distortion.

  It does not drag him into madness.

  It simply stands there.

  Its mere existence is enough to bend reality.

  Its massive grin, filled with blurred fangs, gleams—

  Like an abyss devouring the light.

  And those red eyes—

  Though not as enormous as the ones Aspen saw in the dimensional nightmare—

  Still burn with an infernal glow.

  Aspen should feel relieved.

  After all—

  This is just a Gengar.

  Not a god of chaos.

  But relief never comes.

  Because this is not an ordinary Gengar.

  There is an agelessness to it—

  A power so immense—

  Perhaps even greater than the mighty Agatha’s.

  It stares at Aspen.

  Aspen cannot move.

  The seal on his neck is almost drained.

  Dozy and Noizy try to take a defensive stance—

  But fear roots them in place.

  Yet—

  The Gengar does not attack.

  Nor does it seek to shatter the young man’s mind.

  It simply watches him.

  A hint of macabre amusement flickers in its gaze.

  As if to say—

  “I let you live… at least this time.”

  The silence weighs tons.

  Then—

  The Gengar smirks.

  A grin that resembles a soundless cackle.

  And in the blink of an eye—

  It retreats.

  Fading into the corridor’s shadows.

  Once again—

  Aspen is left breathless.

  Left feeling small.

  He has stared into the eyes of a predator.

  A being that simply lost interest in him.

  The boy remains on the floor, trembling.

  His throat is parched.

  He knows.

  If the beast had wanted to—

  It could have destroyed him.

  Mind.

  Or body.

  Or both.

  Aspen clings to Dozy, who struggles to help him stand.

  He rises, but his legs quiver violently.

  His teeth clench as he fights the shivers.

  Noizy chirps in his ear—

  Anxious.

  Confused.

  They barely survived.

  By an impossible margin.

  His heart still pounds like a frenzied drum.

  Just as he thinks he might collapse from exhaustion—

  A small movement in the darkness catches his eye.

  His stomach drops.

  Panic surges.

  His first thought—

  “The Gengar is back to finish the job.”

  But then—

  Something else emerges.

  Something smaller.

  A globe of violet gas, with glowing eyes.

  A Gastly.

  It floats out from the shadows.

  Its aura is sinister—

  Yet a thousand times less terrifying than what Aspen just faced.

  And for the first time—

  Aspen feels something close to relief.

  Aspen, almost relieved, experiences a strange contrast: after the supreme horror, this Gastly seems almost like a baby ghost—an infant compared to the demon.

  But he does not dare underestimate it.

  Its eyes reflect a mix of curiosity and rage, and its grin is tinged with an unsettling malice.

  Aspen stares at it, panting.

  The Gastly hovers just a short distance away, continuously circling, as if debating whether to approach or flee.

  Its purple haze moves back and forth, touching the surrounding darkness.

  With every breath, the ghost releases a hollow murmur—

  A whisper without words that sends chills down Aspen’s spine.

  It seems to be laughing—

  But there is no kindness in that laughter.

  “Y-you…” Aspen mumbles, his voice shattered.

  He feels like his body has no reserves of bravery left—

  Like his mind is broken into pieces.

  And yet—

  He cannot look away.

  After witnessing that colossal Gengar, this Gastly—as terrifying as it is—

  Feels like a lesser threat.

  But that does not mean it isn’t dangerous.

  The embers of hatred in its gaze warn Aspen—

  This is not a simple mischievous ghost.

  Dozy, concerned, lets out a gurgling sound of caution.

  Noizy flutters anxiously, brushing against his trainer’s head.

  Aspen understands—

  His team is in no condition for a serious fight.

  But—

  He also cannot ignore the possibility that this Gastly might be the one his grandmother sent him to find.

  His heart pounds with a mix of fear and urgency.

  His grandmother had told him to find a Gastly with the special ability to manipulate shadows—Shadow Tag.

  “Could this be the one?”

  A spark of hope flickers within him.

  Yet—

  It does not erase the chill running down his spine.

  The Gastly, meanwhile, watches him with a mocking gleam—

  As if it understands his vulnerability.

  It is like a wild cub, young but keeping its fangs bared.

  It does not get close enough for Aspen to touch—

  But neither does it flee.

  It remains in a constant sway, like a macabre dance.

  Its large eyes narrow, pupils shrinking into slits.

  And its grin widens with cruelty.

  Even after facing the terror of the great beast,

  This small phantom still has the power to freeze Aspen’s blood.

  His heart feels like it will explode.

  He can still hear the echoes of that impossible dimension.

  The wails of his fractured sanity.

  And the silent laughter of the colossal Gengar.

  But this little ghost—

  As resentful and threatening as it is—

  Feels like a challenge he can actually face.

  With a trembling inhale, he wipes the sweat and faint blood from his lip.

  Barely holding himself upright with Dozy’s help.

  He meets the Gastly’s gaze—

  Its expression a mixture of curiosity and fury.

  It seems to ask:

  “Who are you to intrude upon my domain, human?”

  “How are you still alive after witnessing the devil?”

  At least, that is what Aspen imagines it saying.

  His skin prickles.

  A cold breath runs down his spine.

  “I-I suppose you’re… not going to leave me alone, are you?” he whispers, his voice devoid of strength.

  And yet—

  He knows his mission.

  He must convince or force this Gastly to become his ally—

  If it truly is the one he seeks.

  It could be just another ghost—

  But his grandmother had warned him—

  Pokémon with Shadow Tag can manipulate and enter shadows.

  Aspen remembers—

  This Gastly emerged from the darkness itself.

  Suggesting it might have that ability.

  And if that is true—

  Then there is no escape.

  This Pokémon could seal the exit if it wanted to.

  No spoken response comes—

  Only a hoarse hissing sound—

  A “ha”—

  Cut short.

  The Gastly lifts its head slightly—

  Letting a wisp of fog spill down—

  Twisting along the floor before dissipating.

  A game of dominance, perhaps.

  A subtle threat—

  Or a test.

  And Aspen remembers, with a shudder—

  That the latent panic inside him is still alive.

  Though, in perspective—

  After witnessing the colossal form of the Gengar,

  Everything else pales in comparison.

  A few seconds of stillness—

  And Aspen understands—

  Time is pressing.

  He cannot stay here forever.

  Lavender Tower is filled with dangers.

  The great Gengar could return.

  Or something else could emerge from the shadows.

  With reluctance,

  He makes a decision.

  He takes a step forward.

  Not an aggressive step—

  But a slow, deliberate one.

  His hand raised—

  Revealing the Poké Ball in his free hand.

  He tries not to shake—

  But it is not easy.

  “Easy now…” he murmurs, his voice as calm as his parched throat allows.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you—”

  “But… I need your help.”

  “And… maybe you need something from me too, I don’t know.”

  A growl—

  The Gastly does not seem convinced.

  Yet—

  It does not attack.

  It does not disappear.

  Its eyes fixate on the Poké Ball—

  With an intense, dark scrutiny.

  A mix of curiosity and resentment.

  As if calculating—

  If this is a trap.

  Or a fair exchange.

  Aspen feels it—

  A faint flicker of hope.

  If this is truly the Gastly with Shadow Tag—

  He might be her most indispensable companion.

  But one thing is certain:

  His heart still beats so violently it hurts.

  Time doesn't stop.

  Neither does the panic he feels inside of him.

  But after staring into the devil's eyes...

  After seeing something so indescribably terrifying that it nearly shattered him...

  This encounter feels like an epilogue to his personal hell.

  An epilogue that, despite the terror—

  Feels like a challenge within his grasp.

  Gasp—

  Aspen keeps his eyes fixed on Gastly.

  His gaze piercing and furious.

  He looks like a demon child.

  A baby monster compared to the great beast before.

  His hideous smile suggests...

  That this won't be an easy bond to forge.

  And yet—

  Aspen, his body numb,

  Summons his last vestige of courage.

  He's nowhere near ready for a conventional battle.

  But he can take advantage of this limbo...

  Where the Gastly hesitates...

  Between attacking him or leaving.

  He'll have to take a risk.

  With persuasion.

  Or sheer force of will.