Chapter 193: What Tier Do You Think You Are? Same Black Hide as the Black Rayquaza?
"Zekrom. The legendary..."
Elesa stared at the enormous black dragon behind N, visibly shaken. This was the dragon from Unova's own founding mythology — the creature passed down through generations of legend in this region.
In the myth, Zekrom was the Pokémon of lightning, the one said to scorch the world with its power, choosing to serve whoever sought to build an ideal world.
But it had chosen a leader of a criminal organization?
Looker's expression darkened. Why? How did someone running an evil organization earn recognition from a legendary Pokémon?
Up on a hillside at a safe distance, Drayton and the others had pulled back far enough that the words between Mammon and N were inaudible — but not far enough to miss the moment Zekrom descended.
"Hisss— Is Mr. Mammon going to be okay?"
Salvatore drew a sharp breath.
"Team Plasma has this kind of power?" Drayton's brow furrowed. He couldn't wrap his head around it — how had a criminal organization's leader earned Zekrom's endorsement?
In every version of the myth he knew, if a person lost their sense of justice, Zekrom would destroy their kingdom with its lightning. That implied Zekrom wasn't simply looking for someone with a strong enough "ideal" to follow. The intent had to mean something.
Was this Plasma leader's heart actually... righteous?
Or had the myth been wrong all along — did Zekrom not actually care whether the ideal was just, only whether the person's commitment was strong enough?
"Mr. Mammon..." Skyla watched from the hillside, quietly worried.
Trailing a step behind Drayton, Kieran watched the distant scene with a mixture of tension and riveted attention.
"Zekrom, huh."
Mammon looked the black dragon over from head to tail. The Dragon of Ideals from Unova's founding myth — he had to admit, it had presence.
After studying it for a moment, though, he was privately more convinced than ever that the white dragon was going to be more his type.
The real-world Reshiram is probably going to be gorgeous.
"That said — I don't really agree with what you said."
Mammon produced a crimson Cherish Ball, eyes moving back to N.
"You're calling Team Rocket chaotic and evil. What standing do you have to say something like that, exactly, N?"
Mammon's tone was pointed.
N said nothing.
"As Team Plasma's King, you can't possibly be unaware of what your own organization actually does. Snatching Pokémon from random passersby is hardly rare for Plasma. They do it constantly."
"You preach 'liberation' for all Pokémon, and yet — nobody in Team Plasma has actually released their own Pokémon to lead by example. Hypocritical, and frankly repulsive."
Mammon watched the silence on N's face with a faint, sidelong smile.
"Or — is it that you genuinely didn't know? That all of this was somehow hidden from you?"
"...I knew."
The light that had been building in N's eyes a moment ago dimmed back down. He didn't deny it.
"The path toward an ideal is not a smooth one. Achieving it requires 'sacrifice.' That's necessary."
He didn't try to explain or defend Team Plasma members who stole others' Pokémon, framing it as "rescuing" them. He knew the organization wasn't uniform. Some of its members were there purely for their own gain.
He couldn't argue against that.
"What a pathetically transparent excuse," Kagura said flatly, not bothering to soften it.
N's eyes went empty again. He had no comeback for this, because it was accurate. Whatever his intentions at the start, the path of ideals was exactly this brutal. Ghetsis had explained it to him: this was the necessary cost of the world that needed to be built. N had accepted it.
"I already told you." Mammon's Cherish Ball expanded in his grip. "Your ideals aren't going to succeed."
"N. The world is much larger than you think. And you're not the only special person in it. Zekrom is genuinely powerful — but it can't carve your future out for you. For instance, it's never going to be able to beat my..."
The corner of Mammon's mouth lifted.
"Kyogre!"
MMMRROOOOHHH—!
A low, resonant cry — old as the deep ocean floor, older than anything alive — rolled across the darkened sky. A blue-gold radiance blazed against the dim stormclouds.
The Lord of the Ancient Seas spread its great fins and descended, its cold gaze sweeping down to where Zekrom stood on the ground below, with the disinterest of something that had never needed to look up at anything.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
With Kyogre's arrival, the thunderclouds began to dissolve, swallowed by rain clouds. A downpour opened up above them.
Drizzle. Kyogre's passive ability kicking in instantly.
"That's — Kyogre?!"
Looker and Elesa both stood frozen. Their brains had briefly stopped working.
Was this just the standard now? For criminal organizations?
One side fielding Zekrom. The other fielding Kyogre. This wasn't a fight anymore, this was two forces of nature settling a personal disagreement.
On the distant hillside, Skyla and the others erupted.
"I knew it. I knew Mr. Mammon wasn't an ordinary person." Drayton's voice had gone back to its normal lazy cadence.
"Kyogre..."
N's eyes narrowed, looking up at the ancient legendary hovering in the rain above him.
He genuinely hadn't expected this. Mammon was a legendary trainer — and not just any legendary, but the ancient source of Hoenn's seas.
Zekrom's red eyes tracked Kyogre, fixed and intent. Whatever it was thinking, it kept it inside.
"But even Kyogre won't be a match for Zekrom!"
N's voice dropped lower, weight gathering behind it. Kyogre was a genuine shock — but a Water-type couldn't contest a Dragon/Electric-type. Type advantage, plain and simple. Zekrom didn't just resist Water — it actively dominated it.
"You think so?"
Mammon raised an eyebrow.
"Kyogre."
MMMRROOOHHH—!
Kyogre lifted its head and cried out to the sky. A faint α symbol in deep blue light appeared and dissolved into its body, and the next moment, golden-blue radiance blazed across its entire form.
The cry that followed was older. Deeper. Something that didn't come from biology so much as from the time before things had names.
Primal Kyogre emerged from the light, vast and absolute against the dark rain sky, its cold gaze falling on Zekrom with the detachment of an ocean looking at a stone.
What tier, Primal Kyogre's thoughts moved in their unhurried, contemptuous way, does this dragon think it occupies? Black hide, just like that black Rayquaza. Let me test whether this one is worth anything.
The pressure Primal Kyogre radiated across the ground and sky was suffocating. The rain clouds piled lower, dense and heavy, and the rain itself seemed heavier than before.
N's expression shifted when he saw what Kyogre had become.
He could feel it. Primal Kyogre's presence was something else entirely — qualitatively different from the moment before.
"Primal Reversion. This is what Kyogre actually is." Mammon's smile stayed easy.
"Zekrom isn't a match for Primal Kyogre."
He was relaxed about it. Type advantage, sure — Zekrom had that. But Pokémon matchups were never purely a type calculation. A top-tier legendary against a Primal ancient legendary wasn't a contest that came down to Water-vs-Electric.
"N — let me bring you back to reality."
N pressed his lips together. His eyes sharpened, lit back up.
"Zekrom!"
ROOOAARRR—!!
Zekrom's deep dragon cry rose, blue electrical current spinning up in the turbine at its tail.
"Cross Thunder!"
Crackling lightning spread across Zekrom's entire body as it charged forward, electricity roaring from every surface.
Cross Thunder — an Electric-type move almost exclusive to Zekrom and Shadow Kyurem. It closed the distance at a pace that didn't allow for hesitation.
Of course N wasn't going to fold from words alone.
Turn tail without even fighting? Never.
He was N. His partner was Zekrom, Dragon of Ideals.
For the sake of what he was building, he'd already accepted facing any obstacle that stood in his way.
One ancient legendary. Fine. We fight.
"Origin Pulse."
Mammon saw them coming and let the smile reach his eyes.
You won't fight? Then I attack.
Primal Kyogre opened its massive jaws, ice-blue energy gathering in dense spheres before it, blazing bright.
The next second, four enormous crossed beams of water light launched forward to meet Zekrom's charge.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM!
Origin Pulse slammed head-on into Cross Thunder. The sound was enough to feel in the chest.
Under the force of the detonation, Zekrom's electrical output shattered entirely — and Zekrom itself was launched sideways, crashing heavily into the ground.
"Zekrom!"
N's breath caught. He hadn't anticipated this — a head-on clash, going like this?
Primal Kyogre was this strong?
He looked up at the enormous creature hovering in the black rain clouds, its golden eyes cold, impassive, immune to the spectacle of what it had just done.
"I'm alright, N. Don't worry."
A low telepathic voice settled in N's mind — Zekrom's.
Zekrom was back on its feet, dragon eyes fixed solemnly on Primal Kyogre.
"I'm not its match. N, our best option is to withdraw."
Continuing to fight Primal Kyogre was not, from that exchange alone, a strategy it wanted to pursue. The gap in raw output had been clear enough from one collision.
The Water resistance was the only thing that had kept the Origin Pulse from doing worse. Against continued combat, the calculus only worsened.
"But—"
N's processing was fast enough to understand exactly what Zekrom was telling him.
The problem was, the entire reason he'd come here was to extract Colress. And Colress was still inside the base.
"Blizzard."
Mammon watched N and Zekrom hold without pressing forward, and smiled.
Not attacking? Then I will.
Zekrom, against my Primal fat-fish? Please.
Primal Kyogre opened its massive maw. Ice-blue energy gathered, dense and building.
The next moment, an overwhelming wall of howling frozen wind and snow erupted forward, enormous enough to swallow the sky above the battlefield.
Ice-type. Blizzard.
Zekrom's instinct was to take flight and evade — but the Blizzard was too fast, and it registered immediately that the blast trajectory put N in the path of anything that got through.
Zekrom dropped down, placing itself between N and the incoming storm. Green light blazed from it, a barrier expanding outward.
Protect.
The Blizzard hammered into the barrier without slowing. The impact continued — one second, two seconds, three, four—
When Protect finally hit its duration limit and the barrier dissolved into scattered light, the Blizzard was right there.
Zekrom's pained cry tore across the air. The frozen storm closed over its black form entirely — a swallowing white that left nothing visible for a moment.
When the wind cleared, a thin layer of silver frost had settled across the ground, the rain already beginning to wash it away. The temperature had dropped sharply.
Zekrom was on one knee, breathing hard. The Blizzard had hit it badly.
Ice beats Dragon. Simple as that.
"Zekrom — are you alright?"
N's concern was immediate and genuine.
"Fine. Still standing."
Zekrom's response was technically accurate and deeply unconvincing.
N's brow knit. He was already weighing whether abandoning Colress was now the more reasonable call. Two exchanges, and Zekrom was visibly hurt — Zekrom, who had taken that Blizzard full-on specifically to keep N from getting hit.
"...?"
Colress stepped out of the base, data organized, files secured.
He looked at the Zekrom kneeling in front of him. He looked at Primal Kyogre.
He looked at the visible damage on Zekrom's body.
Colress blinked.
What exactly happened while I was inside?
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