"When the world forgets its legends, the shadows remember."
---
Ash stood between his family and the abyss.
Behind him, Ares clenched the Godslayer Blade, its edges glowing with plasma heat. Cynthia stood to his left, one hand on Garchomp's scarred jaw, the other clenched over her heart.
In front of them—the Requiem Choir.
Six figures in cloaks darker than night, faces obscured by porcelain masks. But behind each mask were champions long believed dead… or erased.
Lance.
Steven.
Wallace.
Iris.
Alder.
And… Red.
Not echoes.
Twisted resurrections.
> "Ash Ketchum," the tallest figure rasped. "You were not meant to return."
Ash's voice was calm, deeper than before. "I was never meant to be forgotten."
The masked Red stepped forward, his eyes glowing blood-red from beneath the porcelain.
> "You gave up your soul to protect them… and now you bring war to their graves."
Cynthia's voice sliced through the cold wind. "He brings truth. Something you abandoned."
No more words.
The war resumed.
---
Above the Peak —
Reality fractured into battlegrounds of memory and might.
Cynthia met Wallace in midair. Their Pokémon clashed—Garchomp's Dragon Claw versus Milotic's Tidal Wreath, each blow carving canyons into the mountain.
Below them, Ares collided with Alder in a whirlwind of psychic strikes and bare-knuckled fury. The Godslayer Blade howled every time it connected, absorbing the corrupted aura into its core.
Ash?
He fought Red.
Not a battle.
A reckoning.
---
Elsewhere — Within the Voidspace
The true architect watched.
She was not a god.
She was not a human.
She was Aithra, the Forgotten Child.
She had been the first Trainer. The one who spoke to Arceus. The one whose name was purged from all records to prevent what she saw from coming true.
And now, she had returned.
Her body was made of starlight stitched into shadow. Her eyes were black holes that devoured memory.
She reached toward the fabric of time—
> "I will erase them again. Permanently this time."
But something stopped her.
A heartbeat.
A single ember.
The Final Flame, now inside Ash's chest, pulsed.
He looked up.
He saw her.
And for the first time, Aithra hesitated.
---
Back on Mt. Coronet —
Ash and Red were silhouettes against lightning.
Their battle was raw.
No commands. No hesitation.
Just instinct.
Ash's Lucario, bloodied and cracked, caught a Hyper Beam with its Aura. Red's Charizard, wings torn, screamed as it launched a final Flamethrower that set the summit ablaze.
They collided—
And then, silence.
Ash stood.
Red did not.
The mask cracked… revealing a boy. Young. Innocent.
> "You won't save them," Red whispered. "Legends… always die."
Ash knelt, placing a hand over Red's chest.
> "Then I'll burn until I become something even death remembers."
---
Meanwhile – The Choir Collapses
With Red fallen, the other five masks cracked.
Each former champion staggered.
Their minds began to return.
Lance dropped his sword. Iris collapsed, sobbing. Steven looked at his hands like he had just awoken from a nightmare.
Ares stood, panting, bruised beyond recognition. "It's over."
Ash didn't answer.
Because above them, the sky bled open.
Aithra descended.
She was beyond human. Beyond divine.
She hovered like a broken statue of creation itself, her voice echoing in every mind simultaneously.
> "You brought fire where silence should have endured. And now, I shall burn the world clean."
Ash walked toward her, arms heavy, heart burning.
He looked back at Cynthia and Ares.
> "If I fall… you run."
Cynthia's voice cracked. "We won't run again."
Ares gripped his sword. "We end this. Together."
---
The final battle had not begun.
But the last song of the forgotten had already started playing.
One flame.
One family.
And an entire world hanging in the balance.
---