As Blaine spoke, Ryuuske slowly unwrapped the bandages coiled around his left arm. The deliberate, unhurried motion carried a sense of ritual and an almost chuunibyou-esque flair, reminding Ryuuske of a famous character—Hiei—who similarly sealed away his power in such a manner.
However, unlike Hiei, unwrapping the bandages didn't grant Ryuuske the ability to unleash the "Darkness Flame Black Dragon Wave." Beneath the bandages lay only an arm exuding an aura of cruelty.
The skin writhed as though alive, like a coiling serpent or an extraterrestrial evil god possessing his flesh, radiating a solemn yet sinister aura. Black markings resembling tattoos streaked across the wrinkled skin, lending an inexplicable air of coolness.
As the arm was revealed, Ryuuske's consciousness once again connected with Mewtwo.
[You need… help?]
A light, melodious voice echoed in his mind, reminiscent of a beautiful, innocent girl. Regardless, as a healthy male, Ryuuske couldn't help but feel pleased by the pleasant voice—infinitely preferable to the gruff tone of some middle-aged man.
[Yes, I need help. I need your help, Mewtwo! I'm sure you can see everything happening here. My life has only just begun, and I don't want to die here. The only one who can save me now… is you, Mewtwo!]
Though Ryuuske communicated with Mewtwo through their mental link, his gaze remained fixed on the raging flames not far ahead. The oxygen in the air grew thinner with each breath, every inhale carrying scorching heat and suffocating agony.
As Ryuuske had said, the only one who could help him now—the only one who could save him—was Mewtwo, the artificial being housed within the pillar-like incubation chamber, a creation of human hands.
[I understand. If it is your request…]
---
Mewtwo had gained consciousness long ago. Even when only half of its body had been formed—the other half still a viscous liquid—its mind had already awakened.
The genes inherited from Mew granted it innate, incomparably terrifying psychic powers. The inhibitors designed by humans could neither comprehend the magnitude of such power nor truly imprison Mewtwo's consciousness.
But unlike Mew, no matter how its genes were restructured or adjusted, Mewtwo could never possess Mew's childlike purity and innocence. From the very beginning, it harbored the most brutal heart of all Pokémon—a heart diametrically opposed to Mew's.
Human science could forge its body, but it could not forge a gentle soul.
Like a newborn, Mewtwo observed the world, greedily absorbing every scrap of information and knowledge it could obtain. It knew it was a weapon created by humans—its body contained not only the genes of countless Pokémon but also traces of human DNA.
Thus, Mewtwo was lost. It didn't know whether it was human or Pokémon. It didn't know the meaning of its existence. Was it truly born solely to serve as a human weapon?
Had it been an ordinary Pokémon, such confusion and doubt might never have arisen. But with human genes intertwined in its being, though its thought processes differed, its emotional and intellectual capacity was nearly identical to that of humans. Thus, it pondered philosophical questions: Who am I? Why was I born? What is my purpose?
It sat silently in the incubation chamber's nutrient fluid, coldly watching as humans pointed at it with excitement or fervor, all while endlessly contemplating this unanswerable question.
Until—until the day it sensed a human consciousness connecting with its own, so intimately that it felt as though they were one. There were no barriers, no separation—this bond was closer than blood. For the first time, Mewtwo felt interest.
It had found its only kin, its only family, the only one who could help it—who could answer all its questions. Because within Mewtwo lay that person's genes, and within that person lay Mewtwo's. They were unique existences in this world, closer than twins, true freaks that the world would never accept.
But before that consciousness could fully establish contact, it began to fade. Mewtwo knew—its genes were corroding that person's brain, and a human body was powerless to stop it. The only one who could answer its questions collapsed into mental ruin. At that moment, Mewtwo felt pain, doubt, and despair toward this strange world.
Then, as if by miracle, a new, vast consciousness emerged from the depths of that shattered mind. Their thoughts finally intertwined. Like a blank slate, Mewtwo cautiously engaged in its first conversation, escaping the loneliness and isolation of solitude. It revealed in this newfound ability to communicate, to exchange thoughts and ideas. Even its heart—once bent on destroying everything—softened.
Only then did Mewtwo realize: it didn't truly want to understand the meaning of its birth. It was simply afraid of being alone—afraid of the cold, desolate emptiness. It wanted someone to understand it, to approach it with actions, to comfort it with words, to let it feel what it meant to be alive.
It didn't matter whether that being was human or Pokémon. It didn't care. But now, the one it had acknowledged as its sole companion—the only one who could communicate with and understand it—was in mortal danger. It knew what it had to do.
---
"Warning! Warning! Mewtwo's psychic energy is experiencing an unknown surge! Its consciousness is rapidly awakening!"
"Warning! Warning! Research facility at maximum crisis level! All personnel, enact highest emergency protocols immediately!"
"..."
The shrill alarms blared once more, even more urgent than when Blaine had fled. Researchers and Team Rocket members at the facility's center watched in horror as the nutrient fluid inside Mewtwo's incubation chamber bubbled violently, as though boiling. The skyrocketing readings on the surrounding monitors confirmed it—Mewtwo's consciousness was active. It was waking up.
"What the hell is going on?! You said its consciousness wasn't fully developed yet! You said you were still programming it to obey Team Rocket!"
A Team Rocket operative grabbed a researcher by the collar, roaring in fury.
"W-We don't know! Maybe its power is too strong… Maybe it's been conscious all along!"
"Are you telling me it's been watching us this whole time?!"
"T-That's… probably the case."
"I don't care! Hurry—inject massive doses of sedatives! We can't let it wake up! You know how powerful it is! If it breaks free, we're all dead!"
Amidst the blaring red alarms and frantic footsteps, researchers scrambled to operate the machinery, pumping the chamber full of every human-developed suppressant they had.
But these chemicals were useless against Mewtwo. Slowly, its amethyst-like eyes opened. Glancing at the shackles around its wrists and ankles, it flexed its mind—and with a burst of psychic energy, the metal shattered.
As its violet pupils glowed brighter, cracks spiderwebbed across the reinforced chamber before it exploded in a deafening burst, fluid gushing across the floor. Mewtwo stood amidst the wreckage, liquid sliding off its sleek form as it levitated into the air.
The humans froze in terror, the air thick with an oppressive, viscous pressure. Even taking a single step forward felt impossible.
"Dammit!"
One Team Rocket member reacted, hurling a Poké Ball. A deep-purple cobra—an Arbok—materialized.
"Arbok, use Poison Sting!"
The serpent reared up, venom dripping from its fangs—but before it could strike, Mewtwo raised a hand. Arbok's body locked in place as though crushed by tons of invisible force, its eyes wide with panic.
Mewtwo had never fought before. Though it possessed immense innate power and abilities etched into its genes, it lacked combat experience. Yet, it felt no tension—because to it, these humans and Pokémon were simply too weak.
Another psychic pulse. Arbok's body twisted like a wrung-out towel, its spine coiling into a grotesque spiral. Poisonous blood sprayed onto its trainer, whose agonized screams filled the room as the venom ate through his flesh, dissolving his arm and spreading rapidly.
The screams snapped the others into action. Researchers, devoid of combat skills, scrambled for the exits on hands and knees. Team Rocket operatives, recognizing the futility of resistance, released their own Pokémon—some attacking Mewtwo as a distraction, others targeting the fleeing scientists. In their minds, survival depended solely on outrunning the rest.
Mewtwo, hovering calmly, extended both hands outward. An invisible psychic shockwave erupted. Humans and Pokémon alike were sent flying as though hit by a freight train, their bodies slamming into the metal walls with enough force to leave deep indentations. The sheer impact of Mewtwo's Psychic attack could flatten a person into paste.
With the threats effortlessly neutralized, Mewtwo turned its gaze toward its destination. It saw no need to navigate the facility's labyrinthine halls—its intellect dictated the simplest solution: the shortest distance between two points is a straight line.
Raising a three-fingered hand, it conjured an "impossible substance"—a massive spoon forged from pure psychic energy, materializing the intangible into solid form.
To be continued…