[The following has no attendant record within the National Archives, but is rather the part of a series of writings of an unknown person calling themselves the "Prophet of Isshu." Only a single copy of this particular text is known to exist (and less than 3 people know of its very existence), and that copy resides within the personal collection of one Quentin Novare.]
Sword of the Vale, August 22, YDR 0
The ancient castle known as the Sword of the Vale was inhabited by something. What, exactly, the local humans no longer knew. But they did know that within those walls, they were safe. Pokemon did not attack humans within those walls. Rather, it was quite the opposite. They were as friendly and carefree as ever. When asked about it, these Pokemon claimed that they had received a revelation, and were content to serve.
"Revelation of what?" the people asked. "The apotheosis of divinity," a Duosion replied once, and said no more. And so rumors began to grow, and scattered survivors began to find their way, through dreams and whispered hopes, into the walls of the Sword. Over the next few weeks, these people also began feeling as though there was a divine presence dwelling among them, and held services praising Arceus for its benevolence. This made the Pokemon extremely upset.
"Why do you worship the creator? It wants nothing to do with us any more. It has left us and busies itself with the creation of yet more worlds to seed Pokemon upon. This we know, for the Three have spoken to us," they cried in anger, and the people were afraid, for they thought that the divine protection had been removed. Time passed, and two new cults emerged: One to worship the dragons of White and Black, and a second, smaller cult, to worship the one who was left behind. The first cult, being larger, took heart to the teachings of the ones calling themselves Team Plasma, and believed that through the Two Dragons, now revered as Gods, there would be peace in Unova once more. The cult of the third dragon did not listen to Plasma's whispers, and hid themselves within the depths of the castle's dungeons, vanishing from memory with the aid of their Psychic Pokemon allies. Not long after, the first cult took up arms and marched forth with their zeal burning bright; led by a Victini who promised them victory against hostile Pokemon, leaving behind nothing but forgotten memories and a few Pokemon that refused to follow them. Word came to the remnants occasionally, telling them about the world outside. The Continent was in turmoil – land and sea brawling, the skies made hostile, the great Ho-oh gone mad in a fit of genocidal rage. This worried the second cult. They called forth their patron god, and it answered them.
Time passed, and three Pokemon arrived within the great halls of the ancient citadel, this time wearing human guise. One, clad in gray, simply walked in through a door leading to the lower levels. The second, clad in black and gold, appeared suddenly like a flash of lightning. The third, dressed in white and red, arrived via a pillar of fire which did not burn, though the sight of it discomfited the first two visibly.
"Siblings," the gray one spoke first in a dry voice. It wore the form of a human male, in the prime of years with a spattering of frost across his eyebrows, but strong of build. Few lines could be seen on his face – indeed, were it not for his snow-white hair, one would think he was a youth barely out of his teens. "I have called you here because we three are the foundations of this castle. Once, the three of us were whole. The Dragon Force still resonates here, prepared to give its bounty to the land once again. I-"
"My Hero will be the one to rule this new Kingdom, Kyurem," he intoned before being interrupted by the figure in black. "Zekrom. I know you are impetuous, but do not presume to interrupt me again. For that matter, why did both of you come wearing those forms?" Kyurem, the man in gray, replied curtly, glancing at both of them with an aggrieved eye.
Both Zekrom and Reshiram – the until-now silent figure in white – had taken the forms of buxom women, beautiful and full in the spring and splendor of youthful womanhood. They wore exotic outfits made of damask and cloth-of-gold dyed in their patron colors and were probably worth the combined gross domestic product of a moderately-sized industrial city. Clearly, godhood suited them. "My followers would not see the truth if it came from a dragon, so I took this form to allay their fears and let them think somewhat more rationally," Zekrom said after a very distinct pause while she waited for Kyurem to nod imperceptibly before starting to speak. Reshiram harrumphed in a most unladylike fashion and rolled her eyes, which of course caused Zekrom to wheel about and face her, clearly indignant.
"I know for a fact you just did it so you wouldn't lose the 'Cutest Goddess' contest after I took this form to represent the ideals inherent in a deist belief structure," Reshiram replied, smirking, which only infuriated her 'sister' more. Kyurem gave a sigh of long suffering as he watched the petty squabbling escalate before finally squaring his shoulders and conjuring a staff made of Nevermeltice, striking the glossed flagstones with enough force to echo menacingly for several seconds throughout the entire castle. "ENOUGH! I did not call you two here to listen to your childish fighting over which favored human is better. I called you here because we have a serious problem."
The two dragons paused in mid-blow to look upon their elder brother with some trepidation and not a little wariness. "Before Ho-oh's – madness, let's not beat around the bush here – I was nothing more than a hungering monster, seeking only the next meal. Now, I am self-aware, more than ever before. I can plan, I can reason, and I have...control. In gaining these abilities, I have discovered that that great flaming idiot's desire for a world without humanity is essentially self-defeating. Uxie joining with him, however, is perhaps the greater threat. Pokemon and humans must coexist, but with this...dampener removal...the balance has been destroyed. We must reestablish this balance, but now that we are akin to gods, it shall be on our terms.
Ho-oh was right, in a way, when he was merely a well-intentioned extremist – human abuse and exploitation of Pokemon is obscene and against the natural order. However, humans are just like us – reasoning, sentient entities with individual personalities. Genocide, of any living creature, is the highest crime a thinking being can commit against another. Living in this castle, I have come to learn its secrets. It has reminded me that humans are remarkable creatures. They innovate, where we would make do. They adapt and overcome, where we would simply move on. And, perhaps most importantly – they can learn from their mistakes, given time and proper education.
Once, this fortress flew in the skies with the aid of Pokemon. Now, the human genome is evolving, in much the same way Pokemon do, to emulate the Psychic phenomena shown by Pokemon. If they were made aware of this castle's capability, they could no doubt power its flight themselves! Humans are gaining abilities and skills that, while different to each of them, is no different than a Pokemon learning new skills. Humans are our cousins, dear siblings. And I will not stand by and watch my family suffer uselessly!" Zekrom spoke clearly, cutting through the otherwise oppressive silence of the empty castle hall. Reshiram and Zekrom simply stood, dumbfounded, hardly believing their elder's words.
"So...what do you want us to do about it, Kyu?" Reshiram spoke first, almost hesitantly. Zekrom nodded firmly in agreement, too scared of Kyurem to actually voice an affirmation.
"My plan is a rather complex one and involves more than 3 variables, which also makes it a rather rubbish one subject to change. However, the basics are as follows: Within the next ten months, you two are to complete your seizure of the remnants of humanity in the west, northwest, and central regions. Using your cult as a model, you will create a strict military-theocratic regime in which your Heroes are the supreme leaders, and Trainers seen as elites. Utilitarian and single-minded, your new empire will focus on human supremacy above all else, and I will grant your humans enough breathing room to fight back with a reasonable handicap. I will also send my cultists out to begin converting those humans in the east and north to my cause, and they in turn will spread my worship secretly among your empire's citizens as well to ensure a decentralized structure.
In twenty months, I want you to focus your humans to the task of attempting to destroy me and my Kingdom, under the excuse of self-defense. I, of course, will act the suitable villain until the time is right.
In forty months, once my armies have been 'shattered' by your heroic forces, our chosen humans, gathered to us and given our blessings, shall reveal themselves and behead the now-insane human leadership, providing evidence both real and fabricated showing how truly corrupt they had become. They will be greeted as liberators and I will be 'shackled' and made to 'submit' in service to these new 'Heroes'. In reality, I will be the puppet-master pulling the strings. Once your technologically hyper-advanced empire is merged into my incorruptibly loyal kingdom, we shall focus on our real goal – the subjugation and destruction of those loyal to Ho-oh. It will require the sacrifice of thousands, if not millions of lives to attain the level of fanaticism required to enable our humans to think beyond their own base survival.
To this end, I have already taken dominion over the Ice-types on Unova. The Swords of Justice and Keldeo have also heard this plan and are in favor. The Psychics have always been friendly with humans, and so weren't hard to convince, either. The Ghosts have, strangely enough, agreed to play the villain, given their natural state as an afterlife of sorts for dead humans. The Dragon clans, and their attendant humans, are willing to play both sides, and the Golurk and Golette clans have always served humanity. The Bugs...they are a lost cause. Too mad with hedonistic desire to see the greater good. They will have to be culled to the point where they become more willing to submit.
The other tribes, I leave to you two. Make them join our undertaking with a minimum of bloodshed, if you can help it." having finished this rather long speech (complete with a conjured easel and many projection graphs, all crafted from etched ice and snow), Kyurem stopped and conjured what appeared to be a bottle of water from somewhere within the folds of his gray robes.
The Black and White Dragons looked at each other for a moment, then at Kyurem. "You're insane too," they said in unison, which was a rarity. Kyurem took the opportunity to do a spit-take as he was drinking his water, which elicited very little in the way of laughter from the audience. Frowning, he banished his conjured water from the room. "I admit, it's a fairly terrible plan. But it was the best I could come up with on short notice. Trust me, if there was any way in which I could limit the amount of suffering and death we shall orchestrate on the people and Pokemon of Unova, I would gladly take such a path. Yet I have exhausted all other options available to us – save one. Our Orb of Creation. While I hold possession of it, I am unable to use it without all three of us being in complete harmony. Short of combining ourselves again – unlikely, given your attachment to your Heroes – that option eludes us."
Reshiram and Zekrom merely nodded, numb. They knew what the price of using the Orb would mean – and that they only had once chance to use it, for good or ill. Already they had heard the reverberations through the universe that signaled the usage of such sacred objects, given to each High Legend upon their creation.
"What of the humans themselves? If not our Heroes, who should we entrust with this task?" Zekrom pondered aloud. Kyurem looked thoughtful at this and remained silent. Suddenly Reshiram spoke. "Meloetta. We'll use Meloetta's song to examine the souls of humans until we find our suitable hosts, then implant hypnotic suggestions deep within their subconscious. When triggered, they will instantly follow our directives however they are able to. This should ensure a great deal of asset agency and operational security." Kyurem looked surprised at this, but nodded. "Yes, that might work. We might also have to invest in human flash-cloning technology to ensure that if we can't find a suitable champion, we can simply make one ourselves. I happen to know the whereabouts of some rather ethically dubious scientists who are still alive. We should have our cults cooperate on some level about inter-agency protocol when we can't talk physically ourselves. Set them up with a lab somewhere, maybe a cave network near our respective borders... It's definitely worth looking in to."
A few more hours passed while the three dragons worked out the details of their long-term plan; code phrases were set up, government officials were raised up or discarded, religious dogma written down or torn up. A short derailment occurred when Kyurem and Zekrom somehow got into an argument about the validity of certain fetishes, but Reshiram kept them on-task, though she did blush marvelously. It was nearly nightfall when the discussions were compete and the White and Black dragons finally left, but Kyurem did not look happy about it. Descending once more into the depths of the fortress reminded him of just how terrible the world had become, that he was now seen as a god instead of a monster.
"But are we not all monsters, in the end, when God itself has washed its hands of us?" he pondered sadly in self-reflection as he strode down the enormous stone halls of his kingdom, idly passing by cultists who fell to the ground in supplication, traces of icy energy already visible through their paling flesh. Many of his cultists were of the wounded who managed to make it to the Sword – already no few of them had died. Kyurem had used his power over the Void to tether their souls to their bodies and reanimate their dead flesh – a blessing to his devoted, granting them eternity. They responded with a loyalty and fervor that would have been disturbing to any normal psyche, but Kyurem, being an apex predator, simply saw it as his due.
"Is she ready to see me, Ben?" He paused before a great door and addressed its guardian, a man who had died and been reborn, though his injuries and Kyurem's inexperience with raising the dead had prevented his eyes from being regenerated. Kyurem remembered his name had been Ben, or something like that, when he was still human – he called himself Benedictine, now. Some weird pseudo-religious tradition, Kyurem was sure. Seemed a little over the top. Humans seemed to think it was necessary, however, and the Ice Dragon wasn't inclined to argue the point.
"The young mistress has just woken up. As per your orders, I performed another personality spectrum assessment and baseline memory check. All results corroborate our initial exams – she remains a blank slate, most beneficent one." the risen one called Benedictine replied in his dry, cold voice – possibly a side-effect of the resurrection process; certainly his lich-like appearance and visible icy blue light shining forth from his veins could attest to that.
"Very good. I wish to see her." Kyurem responded shortly. Benedictine bowed deeply and with a skill and level of professionalism his mortal body had never known until his death before shoving open the great stateroom doors that held their most treasured possession. The halls gave way to a warm palatial suite, covered in gilt-leaf and precious stones befitting the status of its former occupant, a prince of the defunct Kingdom of the Vale. Within the continental expanse of a four-poster bed draped in the finest sheets, a young girl with golden hair and fiery blue eyes stared at Kyurem unafraid. In fact, you could almost say there was love there...
"Hello daddy! What did you do today? Was it fun? When can I go see the Outside?" Talion Vaelheim asked the gray-clad man, whom she knew only as "Father."