"Some flames are inherited. Others are earned in the dark."
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GLITCH WORLD – THE CORE
The sky bled static. Data storms tore through the void like dying screams of forgotten timelines. Reality here was fragile—held together by grief, vengeance, and raw code. Shattered memories floated in fragments. A child's laughter. A Champion's fall. A battlefield frozen in a loop.
And in the middle of it all, standing at the edge of the obsidian platform—Ash Ketchum.
Older. Scarred. Cloaked in the weight of loss. His eyes were no longer just brown—they were weary furnaces of battles won and lives lost. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched, not in fear, but in preparation.
Across from him stood the boy the world said was impossible.
Ares.
Seventeen. With ash-grey hair streaked in Cynthia's blonde. Eyes golden like flame, cold like steel. He wore armor stitched from shards of ruined timelines, the crest of the Glitch King etched across his chest—a jagged, burning X over the Sinnoh symbol.
He didn't flinch.
Not when the wind screamed.
Not when the sky cracked open with images of dying Legendaries.
Not even when Ash whispered, brokenly—
"…You're real."
Ares tilted his head. "You look smaller than the stories."
Ash stepped forward. "And you look… haunted."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Ares spoke. "Do you remember her screams?"
Ash froze.
"Cynthia," Ares said, his voice low and guttural. "My mother. Your wife. Do you remember how she begged the world to stop breaking before she gave herself to it?"
Ash's heart twisted.
"I remember everything."
Ares's voice cracked like splintering glass. "Then you remember the day I was born."
"I do," Ash said. "The same day I lost you both."
"No," Ares snarled. "You lost her. I was left behind. Alone. Forgotten in this pit of broken data. Raised by the echo of a God too mad to die."
Behind Ares, a throne of burning glyphs pulsed—the Throne of Corruption. It wasn't just a seat. It was a scar. A monument to what the Glitch King had turned Ares into: a weapon molded by silence, hatred, and abandonment.
"I searched for you," Ash whispered. "Through every rift, every goddamned wormhole. I fought the Keepers. I bled through the Vaults. I climbed Mount Eternity when it collapsed."
Ares sneered. "But you didn't find me."
"I never stopped—"
"But I did," Ares hissed. "I found a reason to survive. Not to live. Not to hope. But to burn this world."
His hand snapped out.
Six corrupted Poké Balls hovered behind him, each marked with the names of fallen regions. Inside them: Pokémon broken, twisted, reforged with synthetic souls. Chimera-things. Titans of cruelty.
"And now, father," Ares spat, "you will either kneel beside me—or die with the rest."
Ash didn't move.
"I'm not here to fight you."
"Then you're already dead."
Ash exhaled.
He reached behind his coat.
And from his hip, he drew a cracked Poké Ball. Held together with old tape. Blackened from fire. It shook in his hand like it could feel the weight of what was coming.
He tossed it.
And Pikachu emerged.
Older now. One ear missing. A scar over his eye. But his tail sparked, and his gaze—when it met Ares's—didn't flinch.
Ares blinked. "That's…"
Ash nodded. "He used to sleep on your crib when you were a baby."
Pikachu growled low. His cheeks sparked.
Ares looked away.
And something in him cracked.
"I dreamed of you," Ares said, voice low. "I dreamed of you coming. Of holding my hand. Of telling me that it was going to be okay. And every time I woke up, I was alone again."
The throne behind him pulsed a deep, aching blue.
"I didn't want power," Ares whispered. "I wanted you. But when the pain got louder than the dreams, I stopped hoping."
Ash took a step forward. "Then hope again."
Too late.
The Glitch World roared. The throne erupted with shadowlight.
And from it emerged a voice—not spoken, but injected directly into their minds.
GLITCH KING:
"If you will not be mine willingly, Ares… then fight the fire that bore you. Break him. Become divine."
Ares shuddered.
And then—
He screamed.
The corrupted Poké Balls flew open. From them emerged monstrosities. A Garchomp with wings of wire and flame. A Blaziken made of chrome and bone. A Mimikyu wearing the skin of a Clefairy. A Gengar with eyes like dying stars.
Ash didn't hesitate.
He whispered: "Pikachu. Let's end this."
The air exploded with lightning.
Pikachu shot forward—spinning, blasting, screaming.
And then the battlefield became a war zone.
---
The Fight: Fire vs Flame
Garchomp lunged. Pikachu slammed a Thunderbolt into its chest, dodging last second as its blade-like arms slashed across the platform, tearing reality open.
Ash and Ares clashed in the center.
Fist against fist.
Trainer against son.
Their movements mirrored each other perfectly—two halves of a broken whole. When Ares dodged, Ash read it. When Ash punched, Ares countered.
"You taught me this," Ares spat.
"And you twisted it," Ash roared.
Their fists connected—
BOOM.
Both flew backward, crashing into opposite ends of the platform.
Blood from both.
But it was the silence that followed that struck deeper.
Ares was kneeling now.
Shaking.
"I didn't want this," he choked. "I just wanted… I just wanted you to come back."
Ash walked to him.
Kneeled.
Held out a hand.
"I'm here now."
The throne behind Ares screamed. Data split open. The Glitch King began to rise, ancient and burning.
Ares looked up.
Eyes filled with tears. With fury.
With choice.
And then—he grabbed Ash's hand.
The light exploded.
--
"A throne built on fire will burn its king."
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