Distortion World
In the beginning, there was only consciousness. Pure, unanchored, stripped of any perception of self or the place where it resided. It felt only strange, indistinct tastes. It was part of the surrounding world, and the world tossed it about according to its whim. This primal consciousness simply drifted through the void until, over time, true senses and awareness began to stir within it.
It didn't take long for the consciousness to notice something irresistible—glowing spheres of energy that beckoned with a near-magnetic force. Initially, it was helpless, unable to control its movement, and so, a desire was born. This longing grew and intensified, ignoring the flow of time, which meant nothing in this realm. Then, one day, the current of events swept it directly toward one of them.
The consciousness immediately plunged into the sphere's core and began to feed with a primal, existential hunger. This single sphere changed everything. Through it, the consciousness understood its own existence. It absorbed feelings, thoughts, and foreign memories. It became aware of space and time and began to learn how to control its new essence. It no longer merely drifted; a single thought was enough to move in the desired direction. It began to take on traits it had never imagined before, and it continued to feed greedily.
With every additional sphere devoured, it learned more. The information it absorbed began to make sense. It understood that what it was consuming were pieces of beings—their emotions and experiences. A single word echoed repeatedly in its mind: "Soul."
It didn't know exactly what it meant, but the more it fed, the more it longed to possess one. From this unquenchable hunger in the heart of the World of Destruction, Gastly was finally formed.
"Gastly..." it uttered its name for the first time, its voice rasping in the void.
As soon as it realized the nature of its being, it felt a strange, crushing pressure. The world was trying to push it elsewhere, somewhere away. But Gastly was overcome by fear and resisted. With its entire dark essence, it refused to leave. It remained in the Distortion World and continued to grow.
It grew more intelligent; its gaseous body expanded. Its entire universe narrowed down to the absorption of souls. Occasionally, in the distance, it glimpsed shadows similar to what it once was. It watched another deep darkness feeding on one of the spheres. Suddenly, the sphere vanished, and in its place appeared a "puppet"—at least, that is what it would call it based on stolen memories. The puppet, with its tongue lolling out, scanned the surroundings and spoke for the first time:
"Shuppet!"
"Gastly!" it greeted the creature loudly.
But before Shuppet could even look around properly, it dissolved into the darkness. Was this the displacement Gastly had so desperately resisted? Fear drove it forward. It believed that if it fed enough, it would be powerful enough to remain the master of its own fate. It felt energy pulsing within, and when it stuck out its long, spectral tongue, it saw its own strength reflected there.
Time passed in endless cycles of feeding and resistance until the pressure became almost unbearable. Yet Gastly fought with the ferocity of a creature that knew nothing but the darkness of its home. It struggled desperately, determined not to be torn from the world that had created it.
Finally, a moment came when its will collided with something infinitely more powerful. The space around it froze. The last thing Gastly saw in the thickening gloom were two massive, blood-red eyes staring at it with ancient authority.
Then, a voice spoke. It wasn't a sound that passed through ears, but a chilling vibration penetrating to the very core of its being: "You have resisted for a long time, young ghost. But the time has come for you to know the world out there."
***
A paralyzing fear consumed Gastly. It squeezed its eyes shut and let itself be carried away, expecting pain. When, after a moment, nothing came to harm it, it cautiously peeked. It stopped mid-motion in pure surprise.
"Cemetery." The word echoed in its mind like the ghost of an old memory.
Thanks to the absorbed souls, it knew what this place meant. It knew who humans were, though it did not count itself among them. From flashes of foreign lives, it understood that humans were not purple, translucent, and certainly couldn't fly. It also knew that, unlike them, it didn't have to spend its whole life chasing those strange green pieces of paper.
Driven by curiosity, it drifted between the tombstones. It looked at the faded photographs on the monuments, which meant nothing to it, until a familiar, intoxicating scent hit its nose. Food. A soul was nearby.
It beckoned, calling to it like a beacon in the dark. Gastly floated noiselessly toward the call until it saw a figure with long hair, kneeling before a marble grave. It felt something new, heavy and bitter. It identified it immediately—it was sorrow. That emotion nourished it in a strange, quiet way. Gastly, driven by curiosity, floated even closer to inspect the person.
In that instant, the figure spotted it. A piercing scream rang out through the cemetery. The person recoiled in horror, and a wave of pure, sharp fear hit Gastly. It was a near-euphoric taste. The terrified human immediately took flight. Gastly fed enthusiastically on the remnants of energy the figure left behind, but it was too slow, and after a while, the target vanished into the darkness between the trees. Gastly didn't mind, though. It felt pleasantly satiated and content. It decided to explore this new place a bit more thoroughly.
It wasn't long before word of an unusually large Gastly spread through the area. It wasn't common for wraiths to reach such dimensions, so the townspeople began to avoid the place. However, stories of the creature reached a woman in whose heart hope burned and in whose eyes the experience of a powerful trainer could be seen. She decided she would claim this extraordinary spirit.
***
Gastly was starving. No fresh emotions had appeared in the cemetery for several days, and the fear of the unknown prevented it from leaving the familiar gravestones. But when it suddenly caught the scent of a massive, almost royal "meal," it eagerly set out to meet it. It prepared its widest, most chilling grin and floated toward the approaching figure.
"Pregnant woman." A foreign memory of a hospital and a tiny person in arms flashed through its mind for a second, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Gastly focused on the prey.
While everyone else had run from it screaming, this woman looked at it with a calm smile. He felt no fear from her, no negative energy to feed on, though he sensed a faint hint of power similar to his own. He tried to frighten her anyway—snapping his long tongue forward. But before he could get within a meter, the shadows around the woman came to life.
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced him. Gastly shrieked in agony and tried to flee, but in vain. He was held by purple claws infused with crushing energy that seared his gaseous body. He couldn't even move.
"Give up, little one, or I'll hurt you," a chilling, wide-grinning voice spoke. A Gengar stepped out of the shadow. "Actually... I wouldn't mind if you didn't give up. It would be fun," he added with a dark chuckle.
Gastly went limp immediately. He felt the same helplessness as when he had stared into the massive red eyes in the darkness of the World of Destruction. Against this monster, he had no chance.
"I give up," he admitted defeat in a quiet voice. "What will happen to me?"
"You will watch over and protect my trainer's child."
"What is a child? And why should I do that?" Gastly asked curiously, though his core still pulsed with pain.
"You'll find out in time," Gengar grinned, his eyes flashing ominously. "And why? So that one day you'll be as powerful as I am. So that you'll never have to fear anyone again."
A spark of hope woke within Gastly. He didn't want to be prey anymore. He didn't want to be helpless before entities that surpassed him. Gengar sensed his desire for strength and nodded with chilling understanding.
The last thing Gastly caught was a muffled human voice: "You will be perfect... for my... child..."
Then he saw a flying ball, a flash of a red beam, and the world around him vanished. He found himself in the quiet, deep, and surprisingly pleasant darkness of a Poké Ball.
***
After the child was born, Gastly guarded him faithfully. He wasn't alone; Gengar watched over everything from the shadows, ready to intervene at the slightest sign of danger. The more time Gastly spent near the little creature, the deeper the bond he felt. But the idyll didn't last forever.
The world suddenly collapsed in flames. The woman who had given him a home died. Gengar, his mentor, vanished into the darkness of death along with the trainer's husband. The manor and the entire family history turned to ash. Only two survived the tragedy: an old one and Gastly's young master. But the boy was too small then to even understand how much he had lost.
Gastly received clear instructions. The young master would be hidden in a small town under the supervision of a powerful man, and Gastly would become his first Pokémon when the right time came.
The years passed slowly. Gastly spent most of his time in the Poké Ball, but occasionally the Professor allowed him out to observe the boy. It was a painful spectacle. To see the heir of a powerful lineage scrubbing floors with a mop in hand was incomprehensible to Gastly. His mother would never have allowed it, and Gengar would have sneered in his face! Gastly felt bitterness.
Why did he have to lose his family? This boy acted like a servant and lacked that noble "flavor" of energy he had felt from his mother. But Gastly didn't lose hope. He knew that humans age and change. He believed that one day the young master would stand tall, and together they would achieve the power Gengar had spoken of.
The turning point came the day the young master suddenly collapsed while working. Gastly, paralyzed with concern, immediately summoned the Professor. But the man reassured him—saying it was common in his lineage. Gastly didn't believe him. He had never seen anyone just fall to the ground like that. He feared that if he lost his master, he would never become the powerful Gengar he desired to be.
That made his surprise all the greater when, after waking up, the young master summoned him from his Poké Ball for the first time. His gaze was different—piercing, sharp, and confident. Suddenly, he radiated an energy that reminded Gastly so much of his mother and the old Gengar.
Everything changed. The boy was no longer afraid of his own shadow and left the mop to gather dust. Gastly overflowed with pride. As soon as possible, they began training. Gastly felt a massive potential within himself, the kind Gengar had once mentioned. Back then, the old spirit had always cooled him down, saying that mastering this power would be "the young master's department."
And now it was here. Gastly put his entire being into every attack, every movement. He wanted his master to see his gratitude and loyalty. He trained at the edge of his limits, ready to become the darkest weapon in his owner's hands.
When Gastly saw the young master training side-by-side with him, his determination knew no bounds. Together, they would be the most powerful! Though he had to admit he sometimes didn't understand his master—for example, what was this "grapefruit juice"? Gastly even felt a bit offended when the young master was faster in movement than he was. He, a wraith who defies gravity, could not lag behind!
This jealousy and desire for perfection pushed him to evolve. His misty body thickened, elongated, and finally, claws appeared—those menacing, levitating hands that even the old Gengar had, though they were part of his body. He became a Haunter. When he saw the proud glint in his master's eyes, he knew he would lay down his life for him.
***
Looking at the pathetic, malnourished Beedrill they met on the way, Haunter felt a wave of gratitude. He was lucky to have a trainer who cared about the power and growth of his companions. Later, when the sounds of a massive battle echoed from a distance, Haunter's insides trembled. He felt those delicious negative emotions and longed to feed on them, but instinct told him to stay by his master. His master would be in danger there, so he warned him. But the young master knew exactly what he was doing, and so Haunter followed him faithfully. The result was a new team member—someone who had tried to kill the young master! Haunter couldn't understand it. How could anyone want to hurt the most perfect trainer in the world? Instead of attacking, Scyther should have been grateful.
Their adventure continued until Haunter again caught the scent of blood and darkness. He didn't want to go there, but his master was adamant. Haunter watched with awe his power, determination, and the almost cold vindictiveness with which he convinced foreign Pokémon to cover up the murder of their own trainer. For Haunter, it was a fascinating spectacle—that night, he watched over the camp even more vigilantly. He watched every shadow, every rustle, ready to destroy anyone who dared approach.
In the middle of the night, however, he heard restless mumbling. The young master was tossing and turning, sweat beading on his forehead, his breath shallow and sharp. Haunter watched him with concern. It was strange—until now, the master had slept peacefully.
Was he perhaps troubled by taking another person's life? Haunter doubted it. After all, it was natural to feed on the weaker, especially if the other was a killer himself. He believed in his master's strength; he was sure he would overcome this weakness.
With that thought, Haunter returned to his watch. In the darkness of the night, he quietly billowed, while inside him pulsed a sour, poisonous energy ready for the next spit.
***
Author's note:
This is the first POV chapter for this story! I've experimented with different perspectives in my other works, but after being inspired by a book I read recently, I wanted to try it here and really nail the execution.
We get to see the origin of Gastly and why he's so much larger than others of his kind. While most spirits are displaced by Giratina immediately after "birth," our Gastly resisted, stayed behind to feed, and grew more powerful before entering the real world.
Also, we find out the MC's mother had a Gengar... and seriously, what the hell is up with that grapefruit juice?
***
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12. The Weight of Necessity
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15. Shelled Defiance
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