Arc 3: The Viridian Labyrinth
Chapter 32: The Blood Ritual
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In the heart of Viridian Forest, there should have been a symphony—the chitter of Rattata, the coo of a distant Pidgey, the drone of insect Pokémon. Instead, there was only a dead, heavy stillness, broken by the rhythmic, viscous drip… drip… drip… of blood from a gloved hand.
The clearing was a charnel house. The bodies of a dozen Pokémon—common, unassuming types, the kind one saw every day on Route 1—lay scattered in a macabre ring. Their lifeblood, still warm, had been used to paint an intricate, circular marking upon the forest floor. It was a complex array of geometric lines and harsh, alien-looking symbols, drawn with a chilling precision that belied the savage nature of their creation.
At the very center of this gruesome mandala lay a girl. Her long blonde hair tied in a ponytail, a stark contrast to the dark, blood-soaked earth, was fanned out like a halo. Her mouth was bound by a strip of dark cloth, her hands tied securely behind her back. She was unconscious, a sacrifice waiting on an altar of gore.
Across from her, standing just outside the circle of death, was a form, who is shrouded in a heavy, flowing robe the color of a starless midnight. It's ragged hem slithering silently, leaving undisturbed tracks in the pools of cooling blood. The fabric moved with a life of its own, a vortex of darkness that promised only oblivion.
From this abyss of cloth erupted a chaotic mane of what might have been hair - a spectral, bone-white mass that writhed and billowed around his head like a frozen explosion. It moved with an unnatural grace, each strand a ghostly tendril tasting the corrupted air.
But the true front of the terror was the mask. It was a smooth, porcelain-white facade, its impassive surface a canvas of pure malevolence. Two impossibly narrow, upward-curving slits were carved where eyes should be, dark voids that reflected nothing and saw everything. Below them, a wide, unwavering smile was etched into the mask- a permanent, mocking rictus grin that spoke of cruelty so profound it found joy in desolation.
His attire was pristine, untouched by the butchery around him. Only his gloved hands, now stained a deep crimson, betrayed his work. He felt no remorse, no revulsion. The Pokémon were a resource. The blood was a catalyst. The girl was a vessel. Each was a necessary component, a variable in a cold, precise equation. His equation.
He raised his dripping hand, not to wipe it, but to observe. The blood was a means to an end. His end. Immortality. Not for power, not for vanity, but for necessity. This body had to endure. It had to be strong enough to withstand the unforgiving currents of time itself.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed a unique, gold-colored Poké Ball into the air. "GS Ball, activate," he commanded, his voice muffled and distorted by the porcelain mask that hid his face.
The ball opened with a near-silent hiss, releasing not a beam of red light, but a shimmering, ethereal glow. A small, green, fairy-like creature emerged, its large blue eyes reflecting a deep, ancient sadness. Celebi. The Time-Travel Pokémon. It floated beside him, its gaze averted from the bloody scene, a silent, unwilling participant.
"It is time," the Masked Man stated, his tone flat. "Begin the invocation."
Celebi closed its eyes, and a low, resonant hum filled the unnatural silence. The air grew heavy with a power that was not of this world. The blood-drawn symbols on the ground began to glow, a malevolent crimson light pulsing like a dying heartbeat. The Masked Man felt a familiar thrill, a sense of absolute control as he read from a scroll clutched in his other hand, the ancient script glowing with a power of its own.
The light from the markings intensified, swirling into a blinding vortex that completely engulfed the unconscious girl. It was so brilliant, so overwhelming, that even the Masked Man had to shield his masked face, a triumphant, cruel smile twisting his unseen lips. The ritual was working. The power of an entity from beyond the stars, was answering his call.
And then, everything went wrong.
The sky, moments before a placid blue, snapped to a dark, boiling purple. The clouds roiled, and a deep, guttural rumble shook the very foundations of the forest. This… was not part of the ritual. The scroll spoke of transference of power. It said nothing of a storm.
Suddenly, a fork of violent, purple lightning tore through the sky. Not one bolt, but two.
One bolt, impossibly far yet clearly visible, arced towards the distant horizon, striking down somewhere in the direction of Pallet Town with a world-shaking boom.
The second bolt, with a deafening CRACK that felt like the world splitting open, struck the ground directly in front of him. The force of the impact was catastrophic. A shockwave of pure energy slammed into him, throwing him backwards through the air like a discarded toy. He landed hard, the air knocked from his lungs, his vision a blur of static.
When he managed to push himself up, his head ringing, he stared at the ritual site. The blood markings were gone, seared away, replaced by a blackened, charred symbol burned permanently into the earth. The air smelled of ozone and scorched flesh.
He scanned the clearing, his cold calculation returning. Celebi was hovering nervously, shaken but unharmed. But the girl…
She was still there, at the center of the blast zone. Unharmed. She was still unconscious, but her appearance… had changed. Her small, childlike frame seemed to have matured in an instant. Her blonde hair seemed fuller, longer. It was a subtle shift, but undeniable.
The ritual… it had been corrupted. There was no transference of power.
The Masked Man felt a flicker of irritation, quickly suppressed. An unforeseen variable. But not an insurmountable one. The vessel was still viable. The vessel was here. The plan is far from done.
He then tossed another Poké Ball, this one a standard red and white. A magnificent, rainbow-colored bird emerged, its feathers shimmering even in the gloomy, post-storm light. Ho-Oh.
"An unexpected energy signature was released in the direction of Pallet Town," the Masked Man commanded, his voice cold and precise. "Go. Observe. Report your findings."
Ho-Oh let out a majestic cry that echoed through the now-silent forest and took to the sky, a streak of living rainbow heading towards the distant town.
The Masked Man turned back to the unconscious girl lying on the charred earth. He retrieved the girl, and called out, "Carl."
Another individual clad in a pristine white uniform with his face covered by a similar porcelain mask appeared by the Masked Man's side. "Yes, Master."
"Prepare for clean-up.", ordered the Masked Man. "Yes, Master.", replied Carl while bowing deeply.
"Celebi," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Teleport us back to base."
The small, green Pokémon emerged, its sad eyes briefly glancing at the changed girl. With a final, sorrowful hum, a vortex of shimmering green light enveloped them both. In an instant, they vanished, leaving behind only a scorched, empty clearing, the silent, murdered Pokémon, and the lingering, heavy smell of ozone and blood.
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Chapter End