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Centuries ago, after the Great Cataclysm, humanity had been pushed to the very edges of the world.
The Pokémon League, barely surviving, gathered around the few remaining high-level Pokémon still loyal to humankind.
With their help, they built great fortress-cities, last bastions of light amid a world crawling with nightmare-infected Pokémon.
These citadels shielded the remnants of humanity, broken, fleeing, and desperate, from extinction.
Over the years, elite Trainers rose through the League's intensive programs, rekindling humanity's spark.
The Nightmare Pokémon, once in a frenzy, began to wane.
Their assaults grew weaker, their massed sieges less frequent.
And as humanity regained its footing, it began to rebuild. Small settlements like scattered satellites grew around the major League cities, carved from the reclaimed wilderness.
Whiteleaf Town was one such place.
Though called a "town," it was little more than a large village. Located northwest of Ignis City, one of the League's Nine Grand Strongholds, it stood at the edge of the Koron Wastes.
The Wastes had once been a human-made Safari Zone, filled with hundreds of Pokémon species for research and recreation.
When the Nightmare Seed first spread, those same Pokémon became vectors of chaos, devastating the region.
But ironically, because the zone had no true apex predators, only common Pokémon species, the area eventually stabilized.
Once the League regrouped, Koron became the first frontier reclaimed by human exploration.
Now, under the League's governance, the outskirts of the Wastes were officially designated as a Safe Zone, and it was there that Whiteleaf Town took root.
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"Thump!"
A boy leapt down from a tree. Platinum-blond hair caught the last golden rays of sunset.
Sweat trickled down his youthful face as he adjusted the wooden basket brimming with freshly picked Berries. His bright green eyes sparkled with satisfaction.
He looked up the sky above was painted in streaks of violet and rose. Dusk was deepening.
Realizing how late it had grown, he hurried home, heart pounding. The shadows of night crept across the land; the safety of daylight was slipping away.
This was the first time he'd stayed out so late.
He thought of his father's bedtime stories, tales of the old world, of heroes and monsters, and then of his mother's inevitable scolding. The two thoughts together made his stomach twist.
Thud-thud-thud.
His quick steps echoed through the forest path.
Finally, he spotted faint columns of smoke rising through the trees the smell of dinner fires. Beyond them, the wooden gates of Whiteleaf came into view.
"Phew…"
He exhaled in relief, wiping sweat from his flushed cheeks with one trembling hand. Then, grinning, he ran the last stretch.
"Earl, you're back late!"
An elderly voice called out from the narrow main road.
An old man stood there, cane in hand, white hair glowing softly in the twilight. His wrinkled face wore a kindly smile.
"Evening, Grandpa Mayor!" Earl beamed, lifting his basket to show off his harvest.
The old man chuckled, deep lines gathering at his brow. "Good work, lad. But hurry now the sun's gone. Best be home before full dark."
"Got it!"
Earl nodded enthusiastically and darted past him, small feet kicking up dust as he went.
The mayor's loose sleeves fluttered in the passing breeze. He turned to watch the boy's retreating silhouette, smiling faintly.
Then the smile faded.
The warmth in his cloudy eyes dimmed, replaced by something heavier worry.
The sounds of children's laughter and clinking dinnerware floated from nearby houses. Smoke curled from chimneys, carrying the scent of cooked stew. The sinking sun washed the small wooden homes in golden light.
It was peaceful. Ordinary. Almost heartbreakingly human.
But the old mayor couldn't take comfort in it. Not tonight.
He walked the dirt road slowly, thoughts weighing down each step, until he stopped before a lone wooden cabin.
Compared to the whitewashed stone cottages around it, the shack looked out of place, with rough timber, rusty nails, and smudged glass panes. Only the red-and-white Poké Ball emblem nailed to its door hinted at who lived inside.
Knock, knock, knock.
He rapped softly on the door.
"Coming!"
A deep, gruff voice answered.
Moments later, the floorboards creaked and the door swung open to reveal a broad-shouldered man with thick brown stubble and scars webbing his dark skin. His upper body was bare, muscles corded and rigid.
"Mayor."
He stepped aside politely.
The old man nodded and entered, leaning on his cane.
The cabin was as plain inside as it was outside one cot with a thin blanket, two chairs by a table cluttered with dusty books, and a pot simmering on the stove, filling the room with a pungent, unpleasant smell.
The mayor's eyes swept the room once before he pulled out a chair and sat down silently.
"What brings you here?" the man asked, stirring the pot before turning to smirk. "Don't tell me you've come for dinner. I promise it tastes better than it smells barely."
The mayor didn't answer. He clasped his hands atop his cane, staring at the table.
The silence thickened.
The man's grin faded. He wiped his greasy hands on his pants and sat across from him.
He knew the look in the old man's eyes.
Something was wrong.
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~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
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