"Some legacies are inherited. Others are stolen. And some… are resurrected by force."
---
The Rift – Between Time and Origin
Ash ran.
No ground. No sky. Only fractures. Every footstep shattered glasslike threads, each one a memory, a friendship, a battle—gone.
Pikachu limped beside him, half-erased, sparks sputtering. One eye flickered. His cheeks no longer glowed; they bled static. No "Pika." Just breath.
> "We're almost there," Ash whispered.
His voice came out hoarse—like it belonged to someone else. Maybe it did.
Around him: hundreds of Ashes.
Ash crowned Champion in every region, laughing with his friends. Ash who never left Pallet. Ash who became a puppet of Team Rocket. Ash who murdered Mewtwo.
All distorted. All broken. Some cried. Others screamed. Most stared—void of all humanity.
And one—the closest one—walked beside him.
He looked the same.
But his eyes were empty.
> "You think ending the loop will save you?"
> "No," Ash said. "It'll free them."
The other Ash laughed.
> "You're killing everything."
> "Then maybe something better will live."
And with that—Ash shoved him into the rift.
He didn't scream.
None of them did anymore.
---
Wyndon – The Ghost of Hope
Hop stood in the ruins of the once-proud stadium. Rubble crackled beneath his boots. The ground was soaked in ash—not volcanic, but human.
A claw mark the size of a Dragonite tore through the center.
His hands were scorched. His last Poké Ball bled red light—Zacian, too wounded to roar.
But Hop didn't step back.
The sky was open now.
No clouds. No stars.
Just eyes.
Unblinking, ancient eyes—watching.
The Primordials had awakened.
One step behind him.
A breath colder than death.
He turned.
Ash.
But… not.
His face was carved with crimson script—each letter a memory burned into flesh. His hands were shackled by thin golden threads, yet they glowed with a light older than the Pokéverse.
Hop trembled.
> "What did you do…?"
Ash didn't answer. He dropped a sphere. A Poké Ball turned black.
Hop picked it up.
It was heavy—like it carried a soul.
Inside: a photo. Torn, burned. Ash, smiling with Pikachu. Misty. Brock.
All gone.
> "They remembered me," Ash said, voice shaking. "So I had to… erase them."
> "WHY?!"
> "Because I couldn't be real if I was always someone else's memory."
Hop dropped the ball.
And Ash disappeared.
---
The World Tree – Where Time Ends
Cynthia descended through the World Tree's roots, ice crunching beneath her feet. Garchomp limped behind her, his chest clawed open from a battle that never happened.
She didn't know what she was looking for.
Until she saw it.
A silhouette. Kneeling.
Ash.
Not broken. Not bleeding.
Just tired.
In front of him: a grave made of crystal. No name.
Just a single word carved into its base:
"FORGOTTEN"
> "Ash…" Cynthia said softly.
He didn't turn.
> "You should leave."
> "You started all this, didn't you?"
> "No," Ash said.
And now, he did turn.
> "They did. Forcing me into the dream. The hero. The Champion. The 'chosen one.' What was I ever allowed to choose?"
> "You could've chosen not to destroy the world."
> "I didn't destroy it," Ash said.
> "I unwrote it."
The crystal grave cracked.
And the entire World Tree shook.
Cynthia fell to her knees.
> "You killed us all."
> "No," Ash said, voice calm. "I set you free."
He touched the grave.
It burst into stardust.
And so did the sky.
---
Pallet Town – The House That Waited
Delia sat at the kitchen table.
The clocks had stopped.
The wind had vanished.
Photos on the wall flickered—Ash at age 10, then 15, then 50—then gone.
She clutched his old hat. The original one. The red one. The one he wore when he left.
It burned her palms.
Outside, the mailbox collapsed.
Letters spilled. Unopened. Dozens.
All with one name:
From: Ash
To: Mom
She opened one.
Nothing inside.
Just ash.
And then… a voice.
> "Don't look for me."
> "Don't wait for me."
> "Just let me die quietly."
The letters turned to dust.
So did the house.
Delia screamed. The world didn't hear.
---
The Void Mirror – End of All Threads
Ash stood alone now.
All versions gone.
The final gate was a mirror. Massive. Infinite.
It showed… nothing.
Not a single reflection.
No Champion. No Trainer. No Legend.
Just… absence.
He smiled.
> "Perfect."
He placed his hand on the glass.
And whispered:
> "Erase me."
The mirror cracked.
> "Erase all of me."
It shattered.
> "Let the next boy dream without my shadow."
A storm of memories exploded—Pikachu's first spark. Misty's scream. Charizard's roar. May's smile. Greninja's final bow. Serena's kiss.
They all burned.
Ash walked into the fire.
And the world—
reset.
---
A Place Without History
Somewhere, a boy opened his eyes.
He had no name.
But in his dreams… he saw flashes.
Yellow lightning.
Crimson caps.
A mother crying in a house that didn't exist.
He screamed.
And far away…
A voice whispered.
> "You're the first free one."
---